#ah cool and in the time it took me to write this a second friend responded to a message saying their friendship priorities lay elsewhere

[unadulteratedkr]

friendship breakups are fucking rough y'all

[satorusugurugurl]

My Wedding Date is an Escort!

Summary: When invited to your best friend's wedding, you panic. One of the groomsmen, Toji Fushiguro, is your ex-fiancè. Not wanting to deal with probing questions and the embarrassment of being single, your friend Haibara recommends using an Escort! Taking a leap of faith, you book one my, the hottest one. Gojo Satoru is hot, sweet, and funny! The package deal! Men and Women pay thousands to go on a date with him (even more, which he doesn't do often). So when your request comes in, the desperation and pleading tone of your voice. Gojo’s heartthrobs, even more so when you tell him you don't want to have sex.

Pairing: Escort!Gojo x FAB Reader

Word Count: 2,055

Warning: Fluffy fluff! Happy endings 🥹💚

A/N: And with that, My Wedding Date is an Escort is complete! I am open to writing one shots for our fluffy couple if y’all have any requests! God this has been a journey thank you all so much for the love and support!! I hope you continue to enjoy my other series as well! 💚💚💚

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven

Epilogue:

Two Years Later.

Gojo stirred in bed, reaching for your side and finding it cold like every other morning. He knew where you were from the smell of cinnamon rolls baking downstairs. He fucking loved cinnamon rolls. Satoru walked out into your living room with a stretch and a yawn before strutting towards the stairs that led down to the bakery.

You stood there talking to one of your customers, handing them a bright pink box tied with a white ribbon. He stood at the top of the stairs, just watching you for the longest of times. You moved elegantly over the floor to the display case packaging and different pastries for your customers. Before heading into the back, one of your workers took over for you.

Seizing the opportunity, Satoru followed you through the metal swinging door into the back. You stood there, checking the contents inside the oven. When you had your back turned, he snuck up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. The sudden contact had you jumping at first before you turned to look over your shoulder up at him.

“Good morning,” he said in a gruff voice.

“Mornin’ Toru.” Soft lips pressed lovingly against his cheek. “I made you an omelet. It’s in the microwave.”

“Fuuuck,” he happily sighed, “I love you so damn much.”

Turning to face him, you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him down to your lips. “Mmm, I love you too, Toru.” Satoru kissed you back eagerly, his hands gripping your hips, pulling your flesh against him. “Ah, Toru~!” Giggles were music to his ears; he growled, wanting to do nothing more than toss your pastries to the ground and take you into the kitchen. “Satoru~ haaah,” You gasped as his lips hurriedly trailed down your neck. “We can't.”

“Yes, we can~” he growled hungrily, “come on, I'll be fast.”

For a second, Satoru could see your eyes searching for a place where you two could have a quickie. Just as you were pulling him to the very back, where the cooling racks would conceal you, the door to the front swung open, and Suguru walked in, duffle bag over his shoulder, backpack on his back. The three of you froze as Suguru glanced between you two, his face twisting into a look of disgust.

“Please tell me,” Suguru pinched the bridge of his nose. “you both weren't about to fuck back here.”

“W-What! N-No!” of course, you would be the first to deny his accusation, quickly shaking your head.

Your boyfriend, on the other hand, pouted, throwing his head back in dismay. “Such a cock block Suguru!” Both of his best friends turned to stare at him. The silence was palpable until Suguru groaned, his eyes landing on you, giving you the most disappointing look he could muster.

“Really?”

“S-Suguru, I can explain.”

“I should report your ass to the health department.” He teased, striding forward and smacking Satoru upside the head. “Stop corrupting my best friend, you horny blue-eyed freak.”

Satoru gasped dramatically, placing his hand over his chest. Faux hurt, painting his face as he furrowed his brows together. A look that didn’t stop Suguru from snatching a strawberry off the counter and popping it in his mouth. Not that it phased you as you walked back to the oven, pulling out a tray.

“I thought I was your best friend?!”

“Nah, I like your girlfriend more.” Suguru tossed a strawberry at you. “Even if she's a little freak, too.”

You placed the cookie tray on the counter, tossing an oven mitt back at Suguru. “Hey, I was minding my own business! Satoru’s the one that woke up and chose to be horny.” Satoru slowly smirked, nodding his head.

“Can't help it; seeing the cute pastry chef working in my bakery just does things for me.” Both you and Suguru turned to stare at him. “Wanted to bring you back here and give you an in-depth evaluation.”

“Gross.” Suguru chucked a strawberry at Satoru’s face.

“I didn't know you were my ‘boss’ last time I checked; You lived with me.” You put both hands on your hips, smirking as Satoru blinked.

“Live with you?” Satoru gaped, eyes turning towards a smirking Suguru. “Did I, or did I not invest in her shop?”

“Technically, he did.”

Satoru strode forward, cupping your cheek. “He just wants me for my pastries.” You teased, standing on your tiptoes and kissing him.

“That and your body.” he teased, kissing you back, growling against your lips.

“Oh my god, please stop. We have a train to catch.” Suguru grumbled, rolling his eyes at the groan from his best friend.

“Suguru’s right, baby; hurry and eat.”

Satoru grabbed the omelet from the microwave, pausing to look down at you. “Say~ you busy on Saturday?”

There’s a certain sparkle in your eyes, one that has Satoru head over heels. You tilt your head to the side, glancing up at the ceiling and thinking. “Hmm, I have a wedding to go to.” Satoru’s chest swells with excitement as he eats some of his food.

“Oh really?”

“Mhmm~!”

“Need a date?”

“Oh yeah, I totally need one.”

The adoration and love in your eyes mirrored his own. “Great, sounds like we got a plan.” He lovingly kissed you on the forehead. “Three days, sweetheart! Three days!” Satoru ran up the stairs, humming happily; three days to him would feel like three decades. Saturday, needed to hurry up and get here already!

Luckily for Satoru, three days flew by. His stomach fluttered as Suguru smoothed out his suit jacket. Suguru’s eyes focused on his best friend's neck, where he could see his racing pulse.

“You remember what you told me when you got back from Kyoto two years ago?”

“Uh, thanks for telling me I was a fucking idiot?” Satoru said before taking a deep breath.

Suguru laughed, shaking his head. “You said that which you're still welcome for.” The dark-haired man straightened his back before patting his best friend on the shoulder. “You told me you found the one. Then proceeded to ask me to be a witness at your wedding.” Blue eyes followed Suguru; he looked at himself in the mirror, fixing his jacket. “I honestly thought you were out of your mind back then.” Satoru was a second away from recording back with a snarky remark. “But, I’m happy to admit I was wrong, and you were right. She is the one meant for you.” without another word, Suguru pulled his best friend into a tight embrace.

“Suguru—”

“I’m happy for both of you.” Silence spreads between the two. “But if you hurt her, I will kill you myself.”

A knock at the door sent the two men flying back from each other. “Satoru.” Your mother peeked her head inside. “It’s time.” she has tears in her eyes as Satoru takes a final deep breath.

“If you’ll excuse me, I have a wedding date to get to!”

Two years ago, he received a call from a girl desperate for a wedding date. The same girl had proceeded to steal his heart over the course of a week. In two years, the two of you had moved in together, shared meals with one another, and planned a future together. A future that had come true thus far.

You owned your bakery, and Satoru helped manage it with you, being your number one customer and investor. The two of you happily lived in the loft above the shop, furnished to make it your home. Everything you both wanted had come true. Today, you both will finalize the plans that you had made two years prior.

Satoru stood in the gardens of your family's inn, decorated with vibrant flowers. He watched as your closest friends walked down the aisle one after another in pairs, but he honestly didn't care about them. All that mattered to him was seeing you.

His wish was granted as the official told the guest in front of him to stand. His eyes met yours down the aisle, his breath catching in his throat at your breathtaking appearance. Your wedding gown was elegant and suited you perfectly. Showing off your figure, he loved it so remarkably much. Your face was visible behind the veil, and your eyes never left his as your father led you down the aisle toward him.

Satoru felt his eyes burning as tears streamed down his cheeks. How was it possible for you to look even more stunning than you already did? You are like a goddess compared to him.

Suguru gently pats his shoulder, grinning as his best friend wipes uselessly at his eyes. He finally regained some form of composure once you’re standing before him, taking his hand in your own. His heart is thundering as he pulls you in and turns to the official with the biggest smile. He had told your mother two years ago that the next wedding they hosted at the inn would be yours.

And he had been faithful to his words.

The ceremony was sweet and quick; you exchanged your vows and beamed at the official. “I now pronounce you man and wife. You may now kiss the bride!” Satoru threw your veil back, cupped your face, and kissed you as if the word was ending.

The crowd cheered and clapped as you both held hands, running up the aisle and back into the gardens. The second you were away from peering eyes, Satoru kissed you again, and again, and again until pulling away with a happy sigh. You felt lighter than air as his cerulean eyes roamed over your face.

“I think that was the best wedding date I’ve ever been on.” You proudly announced as he intertwined your fingers.

“Is that so, Mr. Gojo?” Your husband perks up, eyes darting down at you with sparkles in them.

“Why yes, Mrs. Gojo, it was.” You giggle at the use of your new last name. “Ooh, someone likes that new name~!!”

You shake your head, grinning softly. “No, I don't like it.” For a moment, you think Satoru is about to die of shock. “I love it!”

Satoru breathed a sigh of relief before cupping your face in his hands and kissing you as passionately as he could. With wide eyes, you moan into the kiss as he pushes the toy back against the wall of the inn. One hand grabs your hip, and the other remains on your face. You melt against him as he pulls back, your hot, desperate breath mingling together before he squeezes your hip, meeting your lips again, this time with a gentler kiss.

“And I love you. I hope you got enough sleep in the last two years, because I plan on showing you how much I love you on our honeymoon.”

“Oh my god, Toru~!” A squeal of pure joy rocks through you as he lifts you up carrying you across the gardens towards the photographers.

“Hey~ save that for the honeymoon suite baby~!” Your giggled as you both took the steps towards you very long and happy marriage. A marriage that all started with a wedding date.

Tag List:

@arminloverlol @jamzywiththejam28 @gojoful @maskedpacific @ahseyy @kash77 @sadmonke @ari-maccha @sugurubabe @hyori2 @bluechocolatemint @itsinherited @dellappatca @therealestpussyeater @dead-at-tokyo @nvrgojover @drakenswifeyy @nealeart @yunho-leeknow @fire-child-kira @faeryminnyx @tqd4455 @harmonyflora @volkins181-blog @noukstmblr @lovley212 @stinkinstuffie @desihopelessromantic @witchbybirth @sonicsolos @lilbiguy @supsiii @rentheannihilator @bloopsstuff @pepepepepopopopo @pandoness @sw33cadav3r @rixo-19 19 @meguvmii @sxnkuna @mmeerraa @lemonintrovert01 @bunny-lily @kibananya @kamastar39 @rjreins @lzaj19 @tiredflame132 @manyno @oliiper @rengokushair @simp-plague @matchalatte06 @haesify @majanggeum @solarrexplosion @tbzzluvr @username23345 @demonboyssss @sakui1 @strychnynegirl

Forever Tag List:

@darkstarlight82 @pandoness @nealeart @simp-plague @sugurubabe

[revasserium]

hiii i'm a new follower and i love your writing so much

ik u said no requests in ur bio but i just finished reading ur sanji fic.. so even if ur still not taking requests i'd just like to throw in an idea that u may or may not feel like using in the future, up to you (i'm requesting this with opla sanji in mind but if u wanna use it for zoro that's cool too)

k so imagine reader being invited to a friend's wedding, & being excited to go until they find out their ex is coming too (with their partner of some amt of yrs). so now reader is pressured to bring someone w/ them & ends up asking their best friend sanji bc they don't want others thinking they're still hung up on the past.

wedding dress

opla!sanji; 6,544 words, pining with a happy ending, fluff and a tad of angst, flirting, lovesick!sanji, whipped!!!!sanji, no "y/n", zeff is a whole mood, confessions, sanji-appropriate nickname usage, modern!au?

summary: you invite sanji to be your plus 1 at a wedding

a/n: im so sorry this took so long. but. better late than? never? also, there is a tiny bit of rehashing for ep 6 of the live action for sanji and zeff's relationship so... spoilers?

It’s a chilly, overcast kind of day when the call comes in. And in retrospect, Sanji thinks he should’ve known better when he’d seen your name on the caller ID. He’d hesitated, because by god if it wasn’t his New Year's Resolution to get the hell over you this year, but it’s almost December again and he still can’t help the way his heart races at the sound of your voice.

“Hey sweetheart — long time no talk!” he answers after a brief moment of contemplating his entire life, dusting his flour-covered hands on his apron.

“Hey! Sorry for calling so… out of the blue…” your voice is still as sweet as ever, and the way his stomach twists at the tinkle of your nervous laughter makes him want to kick himself. Still, he forces himself to stay calm, clearing his throat as he checks the oven — it’s almost done pre-heating.

“Now you know what I said about actin’ a stranger — just because you moved halfway across the entire world doesn’t mean we ain’t best friends anymore, right?”

It’s what you’d said when he’d been standing at the airport, three seconds from dropping to his knees and begging you not to go. But he hadn’t, because he knew how hard you’d worked for this — for this opportunity abroad, to study art in the birthplace of the Renaissance itself, in the heart of Italy.

“And… you might be able to come visit me, right?” you’d said, rocking on the balls of your feet, your eyes full of what Sanji could only call false hope — which is always, always the worst and most painful kind.

Sanji had swallowed and nodded and said something or other about Europe and fine dining, but there’s a terrible, prickling heat eating up the back of his neck and a voice that’s screaming at him to pull you to him and kiss you. He doesn’t. And he regrets it to this day.

“Ah — right… I’m actually calling because… I’ll be in the area in about a week and…”

Your voice pulls him out of his reverie and he clears his throat, hitches a smile to his face that he knows you can’t see but he’s sure you can hear.

“Oh! That’s great, darling! You’ve gotta come for a drink, I’ll whip up all your favorites — we can make a night —”

“It’s actually for a wedding.”

There are a few moments in everyone’s lives when they learn the true meaning of a thing for the very first time — elation, pride, stomach-twisting guilt, and… fear. True fear, the kind of fear that shakes the muscle from your bones and sends them tingling, threatens to overwhelm you with numbness. Fear, that pushes adrenaline through you like a drug, forces the world into a terrifying, all-consuming focus.

Sanji feels the fear coursing through him, wild and contentious at your words.

A wedding.

Your wedding? Perhaps?

He can’t bear to think of it; he’s so terrified he can barely breathe.

Then comes the moment after, the wave of everything else that the fear had washed away — confusion, anger, guilt (always guilt, for some reason), because isn’t he supposed to be happy for you? For you, the person he loves most in this entire world, to find love, to know happiness. He should. He should.

“Oh.”

Sanji sags back against the hard, metal counter. Almost mindlessly, he reaches into his pockets with shaking hands, digging around for a smoke.

Your breath is soft in his ear, too far across the phone line and a thousand miles of ocean.

“I originally wasn’t even planning on going — she’s not a very close friend — we had like one class together but —”

And within the span of a minute, Sanji also learns relief. The kind that melts the world around you into sizzling butter and champagne bubbles. The kind that makes you want to lie down on the ground and scream.

“— it was so close to your restaurant so I said yes but I didn’t know he was gonna be there and —”

You’re still talking, rambling like you do. And it takes nearly everything inside Sanji to pull himself back to the conversation.

“Sorry, love, who did you say was gonna be there?”

“My ex — you know the one —”

Sanji grimaces, flicking on his lighter with still-shaking fingers.

“Mm, yeah I do. The tall, dark-haired bastard who —”

“Yeah well — he’s gonna be there too and I just —” he hears you swallow hard and take a long, steadying breath. An unnameable something is calcifying in the depths of his stomach as he waits for you to collect yourself.

Curiosity? Why had you called like this, so suddenly, about a wedding where your ex was going to be? Concern? Were you thinking of going back to him?

But slowly, as you stutter through your next few words, the unnameable thing obtains a name — dread.

“— I just don’t think I could do it myself, y’know? And — and you were the one who got me out of it wh-when I decided to break it off with him so…”

Sanji takes a long drag of his cigarette and casts his eyes up at the high, white-slabbed ceiling of the kitchen, scored with long strips of bright, fluorescent lighting that floods the entire room in a direct, unforgiving glow.

He closes his eyes and counts to three.

“Course I’ll come with you, darlin’. It —” he wets his lips, taps off a bit of ash from his cigarette, and sucks in through his nose, clearing his throat of the words still lodged there, “— it’d be my honor.”

Relief — he hears it in your voice, and by gods he can almost see it — the way your whole face would light up, washed as if by the setting sun, your eyes wide and dark, your cheeks flushing his favorite fucking shade of pink and —

“Thank you, thank you, thank you! I really owe you for this one —”

Sanji makes a valiant effort at a nonchalant chuckle; it comes out sounding like a dog with a bit of bone stuck in its throat instead.

“Nonsense — what are best friends for, anyway?”

There’s a tiny pause where Sanji can feel the words best friend scraping along the insides of his mouth, barbed and harsh, leaving his tongue feeling raw and metallic.

“You really are the best friend anyone could ask for,” your voice is soft and honest and Sanji wants nothing more than to chuck his phone into the industrial blender.

You tell him that you’ll send him the details, that you can’t wait to see him soon, that you’ve got a world and a half of catching up to do, that you’ll buy him so, so many drinks, and that you’ll come bearing presents. He laughs at the right times, makes soft noises of consent and agreement, and when finally, finally you tell him goodbye, he clicks off the phone and takes another long drag of his smoke.

And then, he whips his hand back and throws the cigarette butt into the large sink, where it tinks against the metal and sizzles sadly in the murky dishwater.

“Real sucker for punishment, aren’tcha, lil’ eggplant?”

Sanji groans, turning around to find Zeff with his arms folded, the hip to his bad leg propped against a counter.

“Will you fuck kindly off — can’t you see I’m going through a thing here?”

Zeff snorts, clunking unevenly towards him.

“You been going through that thing for the last year and a half since you chickened outta askin’ her to stay so —”

“I didn’t chicken out — I — it was her dream to go to Florence and study —”

“And what was your dream then, ey?”

Sanji bangs his palm against the counter and sighs, “It’s not like I could leave you here with —”

“With what? A thriving restaurant business that I started? A guest list out the door and round the corner —”

“I — I helped!”

Zeff rolls his eyes, “Ah sure ya did, but I never asked you to, did I?”

Sanji huffs, pressing his tongue to the roof of his mouth to stop the torrent of horrible, sad, acrid things he could say and could never mean, so he swallows them back down. When he looks up next, Zeff is still standing there, but there’s a softness around his eyes.

He opens his mouth a few times, but eventually, all he says is, “The oven’s over heatin’.”

Sanji swears and jumps up to tug open the oven door. A wave of hot air whooshes out and nearly catches him in the face. Behind him, he can hear Zeff’s dark, gravelly chuckle, and the dull clunk of his wooden leg.

“You burn the kitchen down, you pay for it.”

And then he’s gone again, leaving the door swinging behind him, and Sanji very much alone with the too-hot oven and a counter full of things he can’t really remember the recipes for anymore.

Nearly a week later, Sanji finds himself standing at the airport, rocking on the balls of his feet, nearly in the exact same place as he’d been a year and a half prior. Except this time, you’re not walking away from him. You’re walking back towards him. He wonders if there’s a name for deja-vu in reverse and comes to the realization that that’s just called… a memory.

And memory seems to work in strange ways now, images superimposing themselves on top of one another — the flicker of a film lens, the bat of an eyelash, the shadow of a smile crimping the corner of your lips. All of this, he sees in the here and now, but he sees it in the air around you too, shimmering and mirage-like — all his memories and dreams of you layered over the shape of you. Your memory like a ghost of itself, trailing behind you as you walk towards him, a shy smile on your face, your cheeks flushed from travel and the cold and —

He doesn’t let himself hope. Not this time.

“Hey!” your voice is just as bell-like as he remembers it, pitched a little higher than it usually is, probably out of nervousness. But it still feels like a kick to the guts. Sanji forces himself to smile.

“Hi, love,” he says, leaning down as you reach him, but the motion aborts halfway because — is it still appropriate to hug you like he’d always done? To press his lips to your cheek or your hairline and revel in the bright citrus of your shampoo, to soak in the butter and cream of your skin like he used to?

There’s an awkward half-second pause before you’re standing up on tip-toe and Sanji’s heart nearly drops out of his ass as you lean in. But then — your lips skim by his cheek and your arms are around him, and stupid, stupid, stupid heart — thundering in his chest like horses or hooves or fists or thumping rabbit’s feet — leaping into his throat and pattering against the base of his tongue as he wraps his arms around you and holds you close. But it’s not close enough. It’s never close enough.

He breathes and distantly, a part of him notes that you still use the same shampoo.

“Hi…” your voice is warm by his ear, a bit muffled, but he can’t help the way it makes him shiver, “It’s… so good to see you.”

He nods, not trusting his own voice to do the normal thing and, oh, you know — work.

“I’ve — I’ve missed you.”

He makes a noise somewhere between a laugh and a cough as he nods again. He feels your arms slackening around him and a fierce, terrifying thing is flapping its wings in his stomach, screeching at him not to let you go. But he does — like he did before.

“I — I missed you too,” he says, though his voice sounds flat and scratchy and he clears his throat again.

A dozen different expressions flicker across the lovely planes of your face and finally, it settles on endeared exasperation.

“Please don’t tell me you still work through like three packs of smokes a day.”

Sanji laughs then, shaking his head as he reaches over for your luggage, “Nah — well, maybe not three but —”

You whack him softly on the arm.

“I actually tried to quit right after you left.”

“You did?”

Sanji shrugs as the pair of you start to make for the exit. He feels your gaze go slanted and shrewd.

“How long’d that last?”

He smirks, “Few hours.”

You whack him again and this time, he dodges out of the way just to bask in the bright spark of your laughter as you chase after him.

“Seriously though, you know how terrible they are for you!”

“Sure do,” he says, tugging one out of his pocket as soon as he clears the airport doors, pivoting left towards the parking garage. You have to jog to keep up with his longer strides, your breaths misting the air between you in silvery puffs.

He makes no move to light it as he helps toss your luggage into the trunk of his car, sliding into the driver’s seat. You huff as you wiggle into the passenger’s side.

“Then why —”

Sanji waits patiently for you to buckle your seatbelt before pulling out of the parking space, one hand on the steering wheel, the other resting soft against the middle console. He slates you a glance.

“Cause,” he says, fixing his eyes back on the road, an easy smirk twisting his lips, “it’s a metaphor.”

You groan, sinking into the seat, “Just because you read John Green one time —”

“Oi, I’ll have you know I read his entire bibliography after you showed him to me.”

“Ugh, whatever you manic-pixie-dreamgirl-loving ass.”

“Yeah, whatever — you actual manic pixie dreamgirl.”

You smile and Sanji allows himself the brief and aching delusion that the past year and a half didn’t happen, that you never left, and that you’d never leave. That you’d always be here, warm and laughing and just within reach.

The rest of the car ride is spent in mundane conversation, in how was your flight and tell me about Florence and how’s Zeff doing these days and I wanna know about your latest dish. It’s light and easy, and Sanji lets it warm the air around him. By the time he pulls into the front of your hotel, all the unsaid words from the past year and a half have soaked through his socks and into his shoes. It sloshes out onto the pale pavement as he opens the car door.

He helps you roll your luggage up into the lobby and tells you he’ll be here at 3PM to pick you up tomorrow. The venue’s just three blocks away.

“Yeah, I’ll see you then,” you say, pursing your lips, waving as he backpedals towards the automatic doors.

“You’ve still gotta send me pictures of the dress you’re wearing — I gotta find a matching tie.”

You laugh, a bit embarrassed, “Right — and here I thought I might surprise you.”

Sanji freezes, eyes wide.

“O-oh! Er — well, you can just — just tell me what color or —” he waves vaguely, “send a picture of a corner of the dress — just so I have something to color match against —”

You nod, eyes glittering, eager once more, “Oh! That’s a good idea — I’ll do that.”

“Great,” Sanji says.

“Great!” you echo, perhaps a bit too chipper.

He gives you one last smile before turning and striding from the hotel, firing up the engine as calmly as he can, forcing himself not to turn and check if you’re still watching him through the brightly lit, sliding glass doors. He allows himself a glance through the rear-view mirror as he pulls away from the drive and his heart skips a beat when he realizes you’re still standing there, right in the middle of the lobby, fingers wrapped around the handle of your suitcase, your eyes fixed on the shadow of his retreating car.

He lights the smoke the second he turns the corner, your shadow no longer in his rear-view mirror.

That night, Sanji dreams in fits and leaps, flashing images and long, sticky streams of could-have-beens —

He dreams of your laughter in a white-tiled kitchen, of powdered sugar and eggshells cracked and leaking on an exposed wood counter, chopsticks clinking against a thick glass mixing bowl. He dreams of your voice echoing off the shower tiles as you sing off-key, the way you used to when you’d sneak into his college dorm for movie night and a midnight snack. He dreams of coffee mugs and errant rose petals and dandelion seeds blowing in the wind. He dreams of dancing with you in his arms in a darkened dorm room that morphs into a bigger room with a softer carpet, one that he’d never seen before but he knows implicitly (like bodies know) is his home — it has pictures on the walls, trinkets lining the far bookshelf, your favorite scarf draped over the back of the well-worn sofa.

In the dream, you pull your head back from where it's pillowed against his shoulder and smile up at him. He leans down to kiss you, his lips hovering half an inch from yours.

Sanji jerks awake to the sound of his alarm, fingers fumbling for his phone, groaning as he smashes the orange snooze button and flips over to bury his face back into his lumpy pillow.

“Ah… fuck.”

It’s not the first time he’s had that dream, and he knows it won’t be the last. But it’d been so real that night, real enough to make him wonder if it just might come true.

He rubs at his sleep-crusted eyes and peers blearily at all the notifications on his screen. There’s a text from you with a picture attached. He clicks it open to find a short message attached to the picture — I really did want to surprise you…

He blinks for three seconds at what looks like a blurry picture of studded black silk before he remembers —

“Send me a picture of a corner of the dress — just so I have something to color match against.”

He allows himself a laugh, swinging his feet out of bed even as he types back — you coulda just told me it was black…

He watches the three little dots appear and disappear a few times, chewing on his bottom lip, before the text appears — well there are different shades of black, right???

Sanji laughs, shaking his head.

sure there are.

A string of tongue-out emojis, followed by an equally long string of middle-finger emojis.

He spends the rest of the morning fussing over which specific black tie to wear before settling on one that he’s quite sure is the exact same shade of black as your dress (and yes, he does have quite the collection of black ties), before tugging his best suit out to press.

It shouldn’t feel so easy, slipping back into the rhythm of things, of texting and smiling and hearing your voice in his head when he reads your texts. It shouldn’t feel so easy to forget the months of radio silence and guilt, the oppressive, resonant weight of what might have been if either of you had done a single thing different that day at the airport — he wonders if he should’ve reached for your hand, he wonders if you’d ever looked back.

He hadn’t. He couldn’t let himself.

He is waiting for you in the lobby at 2:45, wearing a hole into the plush Persian carpet, collecting strained looks from the concierge who had assured him three times in the last four minutes that he’d already rung up to your room and that you’d said you were on your way.

“Wow, you’re early — sorry I took a while — I couldn’t figure out what to do with my hair and —“

Sanji lifts his head and thinks distantly that all those rom-com cliches of a guy looking up, time itself slackening, the room smearing sideways around him, the music going slow, the lighting soft — all of it is painfully, startlingly true after all.

Because there you are, walking towards him, still saying something, but he can’t make out the words anymore because time isn’t really a thing anymore, is it? He can’t focus on that and also the dark glimmer of your dress, the way the neckline skates just beneath your collarbones, barely skimming the skin there before it slips down along the slope of your shoulders in a way that makes his breath unspool inside his chest like loose threads.

And in the slanted, ethereal light of the winter afternoon, your dress looks like it’s cut from a swath of darkest midnight, moonless and scattered with stars.

You blush as Sanji attempts to pick his jaw up off the floor and hitch his lips into something resembling a smile.

“W-wow… you look…”

Your smile is shy as you press your palms against the dress, looking down, “Thanks… you don’t think it’s… too much?”

Sanji shakes his head, feeling dazed.

“No! I mean — it’s —“ his mouth is dry, drier than he ever remembers it being, and suddenly it’s very hard to swallow and Sanji isn’t even sure the muscles in his neck know how to perform the action, let alone force words out alongside it. He struggles for another few seconds, his jaw working furiously as his eyes skitter down and back up the shape of you.

“You look… perfect,” he says, finally, because the word has been ricocheting around his chest like a stray bullet and he had to let it out somehow.

“Thanks — you don’t look so bad yourself,” you say, your voice breathy in a way that makes Sanji’s stomach squeeze.

He offers you his arm, and you glide forward to take it.

He drives the three blocks to the wedding venue in a daze, his mind spinning slow and off-axis, tilted so by the gentle waft of your perfume, the lullaby of your voice as you chatter nervously about this and that and the weather, I mean, can you believe it’s gonna be an outdoor wedding in the winter? He wonders briefly why you’re so nervous, and then he’s reminded of the reason he’s even here at all — your ex will be here. Ah. Right.

“Ready?” he asks, offering you his arm again as the both of you follow the meandering stream of arriving guests toward the paved outdoor garden area where the ceremony is due to take place.

“No, but… you’re here so…” you let out a breath and for a second, Sanji almost thinks he hears the hint of an ache in your voice. An ache like an old scab picked at too many times, like unrequited love, perhaps. It’s an ache with which Sanji is so intimately familiar that he immediately tamps it down and vows not to think about it again for the rest of the night.

There are stiff-backed waiters wandering around with plates of hors d’oeuvres and thin flutes of bubbling pink champagne.

Sanji grabs two glasses and hands you one.

“Cheers, then.”

“Bottoms up,” you say, tossing back the entire flute in one.

Sanji cocks his eyebrows, grinning as he follows suit, smacking his lips.

“Alright then, I guess if that’s how you’re playin’ —”

Your laughter is light, if a little strained, but he remembers how quickly bubbly drinks tend to go to your head and makes a concerted effort to slow down. You make it all the way through the actual ceremony without bumping into your ex, though you do lean over and grab Sanji’s hand as the bride and groom exchange vows — something about love being a choice, one that they promise to make every morning of every day for the rest of their lives — and he looks over to find you misty-eyed, bottom lip caught beneath your teeth.

“Sap,” he whispers, leaning over. It earns him a choked laugh and a half-hearted elbow in the ribs, but it’s worth it to see the tension melt from your shoulders.

Sanji turns back towards the bride and groom, exchanging rings now, and unbidden comes the images of you and him standing where they are — you in a dazzling white gown, him still in a dark suit, but one perhaps of more expensive material and much better tailoring. He thinks about all the things he might promise you, wonders at what you might promise him in return —

“I promise to love and cherish you —” you might say.

“I promise to make all your favorite foods,” he might say.

“I promise not to touch your emotional support le creuset pans.”

“I promise not to make you taste all my experimental dishes —”

“Okay, but what if I want to —”

He imagines the way the crowd would titter, how the officiator would affectionately clear his throat. He imagines Zeff’s warm, well-worn laughter, rough and a little torn at the edges because he’s just as sentimental as the next guy behind all the beard and gruffness. He imagines the crowd smiling up at the pair of you, the way you’d squeeze his hands to get the both of you back on track —

He jerks out of his reverie as you tug your hand away from his to clap, and it takes him a beat to realize that everyone else is clapping and cheering too. He blinks — the bride and groom are kissing, pulling apart as the music swells around them and they link hands to walk back down the aisle.

Sanji clears his throat and hurriedly gets up to clap as well, his eyes trailing the radiant smiles on both the newlyweds’ faces. Another sharp ache sings through him but he feels your hand in his again and he can’t tell if he wants to grip you tighter or pull away. They’d both hurt just as much, wouldn’t they?

“C’mon, let’s get inside — I wanna judge the catering with you,” you whisper, your breath tickling his cheek, and he knows without having to look that you’re standing on your tiptoes, your chin almost propped on his shoulder.

He fights down a bout of shivers and smiles, “My favorite part of any formal event, honestly.”

You laugh, “I know — me too.”

So you spend the entire dinner service whispering to each other about the food —

“God, this steak is so well done I think it just might dislocate my jaw —”

“What’s in this sauce?”

Sanji chews thoughtfully before making a face, “Dunno, but it’s got oregano.”

“Oh the cake looks good though.”

“Yeah, but we both know how much sugar and butter goes into that right?”

You nudge him with an elbow, “Weird, cause I’m pretty sure happiness is also made of sugar and butter.”

“Well for me, it’s always been…” but Sanji trails off, biting his tongue. No. He can’t say that — not now. Not here.

Because for him, happiness has always just been you.

So instead, he swallows passed his own mouthful of regrets and attempts a lopsided grin. And thankfully, your attention is drawn elsewhere by a loud peal of laughter before he has to make a shitty joke about happiness being a well-lit kitchen and a gas-lit stove.

You’re both at least a bottle of champagne deep when it finally happens, inevitable as a summer storm — your ex saunters up to you on the dance floor, sporting a grease-slick grin, eyeing you up and down like a piece of well-cut meat. Sanji is at the bar, grabbing more drinks and you’re catching a breath of fresh air just outside the dance hall.

“Well, well, well — look who it is.”

Sanji turns sharply at the sound of the voice, his eyes narrowing — Asshat. Fantastic. The bartender is putting the finishing touches on two custom cocktails but blinks, confused, as Sanji swipes both drinks out from the bar and casts him a hurried grin.

“Thanks mate, these look great,” Sanji raises the cocktail glasses at the bewildered bartender before hurrying off, slowing ever so slightly as he reaches you, straightening his spine and smoothing out his shoulders.

“Here, got them special-made for you,” he says, pressing the cocktail into your hand, cutting into something that Asshat is saying.

“Oh! Thanks — oh wow, this looks so good!” you beam up at him, taking a sip.

“Oh wow, didn’t know you were still hangin’ out with this guy,” Asshat says, hooking his thumbs into his belt-hoops and jutting out his chin.

You frown, pressing your lips, “Excuse me?”

Asshat scoffs, posturing, “I mean, when we broke up, it was cause o’him right? So I just thought you might’ve realized what a mistake that was and —”

Sanji barely has the time to feel offended before Asshat is gasping and stumbling back. You’d tossed the remainder of your drink straight into his face.

“What the —” Asshat sputters, his fists clenching, but quick as anything, Sanji swipes out a leg that catches him right in the shins and makes him stumble. In one fluid movement, Sanji pushes his own drink into your hand before reaching out the other arm to steady the now flailing Asshat, catching him around the shoulders.

“Whoa there! Seems like you’ve had a bit too much to drink, my friend!” he says, loud enough for the people around you to hear. He thumps Asshat on the back in a would-be kind gesture before tugging him close, still coughing, and hissing in his ear —

“Listen here, you asswipe — you’re gonna turn around and walk away and stay the fuck away from us for the rest of this wedding, you understand? I’ve got plenty more o’this for ya if you don’t, got it?”

Sanji scuffs his foot along the gravel-covered ground in a motion that could easily be mistaken as fidgeting, but you know better. And so, it seems, does Asshat, who scoffs and shoves Sanji off him with a glare, but after another second, straightens his drink-soaked jacket, turns, and stalks away.

You let out a long breath, swallowing hard.

“Hey darlin’… you alright?” Sanji turns and bends down to level his eyes with yours.

“Y-yeah — thanks — you didn’t need to —”

“Nah. Course I did — it’s why you invited me, right?” he allows himself a lopsided grin that borders on self-deprecating and you look up, eyes wide.

“No! I — that’s not —”

“It’s okay, love — I promise I’m not offended —” Sanji’s babbling, he knows he is — but he has to, because the alternative of letting you speak, of letting you confirm what he already knows to be true (that you’ve only ever seen him as a best friend, that you love him in all the ways except for the one way he wants you to, in the one way he loves you) is too much. He tucks his hands in his pockets and shrugs up his shoulders, pulling them up towards his ears like armor.

And then you lean in and kiss him, and every single word he’s ever thought of saying just to fill the silence turns to mist and mornings on his tongue. His mind turns blissfully blank and when he regains consciousness (or has he? Because isn’t this the dream he’s dreamt every waking moment of his life for the past… however many years?), he thanks every god he can name that he feels his fingers in your hair, his other hand cupping the soft curve of your jaw. He tastes your uncertainty against his lips and presses in, hoping, praying that if he just kissed you hard enough you might understand.

When you pull away, he can’t help the satisfied purr that curls up his chest at the pinkness in your cheeks and the slightly glazed-over look in your eyes.

“O-oh — sorry I —”

Sanji shakes his head, leaning in to push his forehead against yours.

“Nah, nah, nah — if you tell me that was a mistake now I might just turn around and never speak to you ever again — because don’t you dare —”

You let out a helpless laugh, shaking your head as you reach up to cover his hands with yours. It’s only then that he realizes they’d been shaking. He swallows and he thinks he can taste every single morning after for the rest of his goddamn life in the whisper of your breath.

“It — it’s not, I wasn’t —” you close your eyes and Sanji holds you still, foreheads still pressed. Distantly, Sanji is aware that people are cheering, that more drinks are being poured, that the dance floor is probably a mess. But he doesn’t care. He doesn’t think he’ll care about anything else ever again — why would he? Now that he’s got you.

“Shh… take your time, love… we’ve got all the time in the world.”

He feels the relief take you, and then you’re falling into him, burying your face in the lapel of his suit jacket, probably smearing it with your foundation. Vaguely, Sanji considers framing it when he gets home.

“I’m… I’m sorry it took so long — I’m sorry I didn’t — that I wasn’t…” you curl your fist into the material of his shirt and thump him lightly on the chest, even as he laughs and wraps his arms around you.

“I know, darlin’… I know.” Sanji presses his lips into your hair and can’t help a smile.

Finally. Finally.

Your hair smells like citrus shampoo.

Finally.

“I thought about you every single day,” you admit, your voice small when you finally pull back to look at him again. He thinks there might be tears in your eyes, or maybe it’s just the starlight caught in the thick night sky of your lashes.

“Did you now?” he asks, fumbling for some semblance of normalcy amidst this night of revelations.

You nod, fervently, and god he wants to kiss you again. Briefly, he wonders if he should, if he’s allowed to now. Instead, he smiles and cocks his head.

“So? What changed?” and he can’t help the tiny note of hurt out of his voice, the slightest shiver of disbelief. After all, cynicism is a hard habit to break.

Especially after so many years of practice.

You shrug, sighing, “Nothing — everything. I mean — I’d always… but then I thought — you had your career as a chef and I didn’t even know what I wanted to do with my life. But it —” you lick your lips, and Sanji nearly breaks when you tear your eyes away from his. He wants to force you back, to soak in the dark and bright of your gaze till he can see the world exactly as you see it.

“It’s always been you…” you say.

At this, Sanji does break. He tips your face towards him with a thumb and a forefinger and leans in, waiting for you to pull back, bracing for it. But you don’t — instead, you press in and close the space between you again, and again, and then again.

He wants to tell you — he needs to tell you that it’s always been you too, that there’s never been anyone else. From the moment he first laid eyes on you, he’s known, even though both of you were children back then, and neither of you had any idea what “love” actually meant. He knew then, too.

“Love…” his voice trails off, but you smile, and he knows you know, knows that you can hear it in the rawness behind his voice, in the softness of his breath, in the way it shakes.

You make to kiss him again. But your lips hover half an inch from his and you stop. Sanji sighs.

“What — why’d you stop?”

Your smile is sweet and sharp, honey glinting on a razor’s edge, and he knows that he has you. And maybe that he’s always had you and was just too blind, too terrified, to see it.

“Haven’t you heard? It’s a metaphor.”

Sanji groans, “Fuck your metaphors.”

You bat your lashes, pulling an expression of mock affront onto your face.

“Well at least wine me and dine me first —”

Sanji licks his lips, “What’dyou think I’ve been trying to do for the last ten years?”

Your breath catches.

“Oh.”

Sanji smirks and kisses you again, slowly this time, languid and deep. Unhurried. He luxuriates in the way you go soft in his arms, in the way he can feel the gentle hitch of your breath as he runs his tongue along the edges of your teeth, coaxing you towards him, closer and closer and closer.

The hardest, angriest part of him wants to swallow you whole, bite down just to hear you hiss, to taste your blood on his tongue. To make you feel even a sliver of the pain he’d felt. He tamps it back down — there’s time for that later.

Instead, he forces himself to pull back and allows himself the satisfaction of watching you chase him, pursing your own lips with a bashful look away, your cheeks dark.

“So,” Sanji takes half a step back, puffing out his chest in the best imitation of a fuckboy at a wedding party, “wanna get outta here?”

You let out a helpless laugh, falling into his side. He lets the sound ring through him like so many silver bells.

“Yeah, I’d love that.”

He chuckles, looping an arm around your middle and leaning towards your ear.

“Your place, or mine?”

You roll your eyes, “I’m pretty sure I still have a toothbrush at your place.”

Sanji hums, “You still have a whole drawer at my place.”

You smile up at him, open and happy and sincere, “Then… I guess that’s your answer then.”

[foryiujeans]

cupid’s arrow.

synopsis. a wall full of hearts and arrows written by mysterious cupids of ships around the school, what happens seeing your name with a certain someone?

pairings. crush!sung hanbin x fem!reader.

warnings. none.

word count. 3.0k

general taglist. @forsobeans

“cupid’s wall is finally here!”

you've never seen the campus so busy. large groups of students hanging around and just having a good time. you arrive with zhanghao and ricky, both of them who were staring quietly at the students. you, on the other hand, you were holding onto your phone for dear life.

within seconds you're caught up in the crowd, loosing all sense of direction as you're swept up in a sea of excited students.

“y/n!” matthew waves you over the second he spots you looking lost. a relived smile adorns your face when you see him, thankful to have found a friend when the three of you were confused by the sudden crowd.

“we’re sitting over here." yujin takes your hand to lead you to safety.

you spot gyuvin and gunwook first, the latter sending you a friendly wave as you reach them. you’re fully aware of the other presence at the table, you can feel his gaze on you but you don't get a chance to even quickly glance his way before your attention is diverted.

"scoot round." matthew laughs, indicating for them to make some room. zhanghao guides you to sit next to him, offering you a drink, which you accept right away.

ricky was standing, gazing at the people who were crowding over a wall and writing on it, “what’s with them?”

“it’s cupid’s wall,” jiwoong said, “you basically draw a heart and write two people you ship which may become true.”

the boys really wanted to check the cupid’s wall out after the crowd has cleared less. you were for sure thought it was nonsense but since they made it sound more interesting, you guessed you had to check it out as well, with your crush.

in the corner of your eye, you saw sung hanbin was conversing, joking around and talking with zhanghao who was doing his presentation on the spot with his laptop opened on the table. the sound multiple of footsteps were heard as it went away. you head lit up and saw that the cupid’s wall had no one there.

“oh cool, they all left. let’s go!” gunwook raced gyuvin to the wall and took the markers and pens that they had placed to write on.

zhanghao went after you, standing beside you as you both scanned the wall with names and hearts written on it. the introverted boy had nudged your side, catching your attention.

zhanghao x y/n.

you and zhanghao are best of friends since middle school. he had taught you how to play the violin and tutored you for the subjects that weakened you while you tutored him his weak subjects. the brunette only laughed at the two familiar names someone had written while you held onto a small smile, chuckling.

"hi y/n." the familiar voice made your heartbeat panic.

"hello hanbin."

you tried not to let your flustered state show at how endearing he was-but nonetheless still annoying.

you softly push at his shoulder which caused him to rock backwards as he was bending over with his hands on his knees to be leveled with you who was crouching. he let out a big smile, not wanting to laugh in the quiet atmosphere of the school, although tempting because of your actions that he found ridiculously adorable. shoot, he even found your deep-sleep-drooling face adorable, proved by the countless pictures of you in his phones gallery. he looked at the boys who were writing names and hearts in one same area.

"i saw your name with hao’s?" he asked me, referring to the cupid’s wall.

"ah, we’re just friends,” you sheepishly answered and frowned at the second, “i don’t know who wrote that.”

he pursed his lips into a thin line, his hand holding onto his bag, “you’re not gonna write?”

the moment you shook your head, hanbin only lets out a small laugh and ruffled your hair. the warm feeling in your stomach was about to burst and you know it. he then stared at his other friends in front of him who were pointing at names and laughing with each other.

“y/n, look!” yujin grabbed your hand and wanted to show you what he wrote. more like they wrote.

sung hanbin x y/n l/n.

the huge amount of your name and hanbin’s were scattered in the same area with pink and red hearts around it. the boys had written all of them in one big red heart with both of your names in pink hearts inside. the blush on your face was pretty visible to which gyuvin and taerae had teased you about.

with a nod, you quickly pull your hands back to break out of the visions. internally cursing yourself for being stupid enough to think that the lover in the visions had been you-just how delusional were you now? sure, you've always been a head in the clouds type of person, falling in love with the possibility that everywhere you go, the next person you meet might just be the love of your life. eye contact with the cute dog walker at the park turns into getting lost in their eyes while walking under the stars. a brush of hands with the hot barista at the local coffee shop turns into holding hands while reciting wedding vows.

and though hanbin was indeed good-looking, even with his face half hidden under the shadow of his hood, this wasn't the same. he was a friend, and you thought he only liked being friends with you. ut was silly to have thought of the possibility of being in his future in the first place, but even more ridiculous to say it out loud.

you immediately shake off the thoughts when you catch him staring.

"so?" he leans forward, looking at you like he has some big secret to share. "what did you see?"

"um, your love life will be just fine."

"yeah?"

"yeah." the small piece of lint on your sleeve becomes so interesting when trying to avoid his intense stare.

the moment of awkward silence between the two of you excluding the noises the others were making in the background was heard. it was only him staring at you with an adorned smile on his face while you were avoiding it.

“i saw it.”

"oh." you swallow the lump in your throat. "i’m not sure why it's there either."

he knew you liked him, you were just denying it.

if he does detect your lie, he doesn't say anything about it. instead, his expression morphs into something softer. "love can be found everywhere, Y/ N," he murmurs.

and how do you answer? it might be too soon for him to know about your feelings, but it's also too soon for your heart to be speeding up the way it does. for you to feel a small burst of butterflies in your stomach every time he so much as stares at you for a moment too long, and for this cover story and the re-enactments to feel more tangible than the abstract concepts they're meant to be.

"besides, i’ll be such a good date for you." hanbin releases you and steps back, smile turning shy as he holds out a hand. "or boyfriend?"

the wave of silence between the two of you didn’t even make you realise that the others were already gone.

hanbin breaks into a soft smile. "you know, i’ve always wondered what you keep thinking about. when you get lost in that world in your head, what do you see? what do you think about?"

"it’s different every time," you murmur, trying to ignore the way your palms feel all too hot intertwined with his. "but these days... it's you."

you don't tell him that it's also getting to know him, falling for him, and imagining how you should be the one doing all those things with him like in the reading. it’s picturing a love that flourishes ever so slowly, one that silently rests between the two of you, growing steadily until a day when it becomes the only thing you can hear.

and though you leave all that out, your answer seems to be enough for him.

"me?"

"yeah," you say softly, avoiding his gaze that was staring into your eyes.

your words feed the twinkle of hope in his eyes as well as the one that seemed to have been blossoming in your own heart for a while now. maybe you can finally admit it; this would be the last time you see him, so maybe it wouldn't matter what happens now.

you know it when he leans in, breath but a whisper at your ear as he says, "you’re really bad at lying that you love me, y/n."

now you don't have to look into his future to know that all the scenes you'd seen were about you. Now you can picture it — hanbin looking up from your laced hands on the table and seeing your smile, face no longer out of focus. pulling away from your kiss in the orchard has you seeing your own gaze, surprised but content. and then there's this very moment when you see yourself in hanbin’s eyes and you just know.

cupid’s wall really did brought two together.

a/n ! thank you so much for reading and giving me requests. i’m thankful that you guys enjoyed reading it and giving all the notes and support. i do not own any characters, music or pics given, will definitely work harder for the next ones !

signing out, miaaa hihi !

[s1k0zu]

Hey everyone,

While I was a bit (okay a lot) late to board the Austin train, once I did, I fell HARD. Before I saw him in Dune II, I knew about him, but never thought to take a second look.

Then I saw Dune and I still can't get Austin's performance out of my head. He was amazing! 😍

I've devoured everything I can find with him since then, and I've been reading a lot of fan fiction lately, and a scene has been playing on repeat in my mind, so I decided to write it down.

I love all the Feyd fics but I find myself wanting more of Austin and less of Feyd (he's just a bit too intense and I kinda miss the hair). So I came up with the idea below.

Let me know if you liked it and if you want me to try writing about something else. 🫣

Fair warning ⚠️ I've never written any fiction before, so this will probably be a mess...and it's maybe a bit too long.

🔞 It's pure smut, so minors stay away!

Under his skin

You and Austin have been together since before his Elvis movie.

You'd met when you were teenagers and became fast friends, but until you had to spend two weeks locked together in his apartment in Australia, because of the pandemic, that was all you were - friends.

You'd visited him for the weekend and then the lockdown forced you to stay.

The tension between the two of you had started escalating gradually, until one night he couldn't resist kissing you any longer. All it took was that one kiss and you were his forever.

You started getting jobs in the crew of all of his projects so you could stay together, which is why you're now in Budapest on the set of Dune II.

It's early morning and it's already as hot as hell. Add to that the giant sound box you've been setting up, so Austin can film his fight scenes in it later, and you're close to fainting.

You haven't seen Austin in two months, because he was busy training in L.A. and you were on location in Jordan with the rest of the cast.

You flew in with the night flight, dropped your bags at his place and went straight to set. He was already there, getting into costume, and you didn't have the time to see him.

Once you're done setting up and finally have some free time you head to his trailer to surprise him and wish him luck.

You open the door and cool air hits your face. Then you see him and you're sure the chill running down your body isn't from the AC.

He's gloriously naked, a black loincloth is all that covers his body. They've painted his torso with black lines and he's got his bald cap already in place. You've seen him in full costume before, but only in photos. This hits differently.

There's something feral and imposing about him and it's doing things to you. Gone is the sweet, gentle Austin you know and in his place is a man who exudes power and dominance.

His body is pure perfection and you know how hard he worked to get here.

"Hey, Earth to y/n. Are you ok?" Austin's voice comes through the fog.

"Yeah", you sigh, "It's just..."

"What?", he asks, a sly smirk forming on his lips.

"Let's just say if you weren't about to shoot, I'd be ruining your makeup right now", you say, raking your gaze over his gorgeous naked body.

"Fuck", he mutters and steps toward you, biting his lower lip, his eyes darkening with want.

"Ah, ah", you stop him, placing a hand on his chest, "makeup."

"Damn you woman! How am I supposed to focus now?", he asks brushing a stray hair behind your ear.

"Hey, I'm not the one wearing next to nothing here," you tell him, "and you're not the only one having a hard time focusing."

You brush your lips against his and his hands instantly grip your face as he deepens the kiss. All the frustration of not being able to touch each other for the past two months melts as your tongues dance frantically, fighting for dominance.

"I'll make you a deal," you say, panting, "you go slay them with your talent and we can come back here during the lunch break, to finish this."

"Deal", he says huskily in your ear, melting you with his beautiful voice.

A crew member comes in to call him to set and breaks the tension before you two can go any further.

You watch him perform, always in awe of his ability to switch between himself and the character in seconds. You busy yourself with work and bringing him water bottles and towels between takes, and just like that the hours go by and it's time for lunch.

"I can't wait to take this thing off my head. I'm sweating like a pig," Austin says, taking a towel from your hands. He's been doing fighting scenes for the past hour and he's in full combat get up.

"I'll stick around to help with the set. Text me when you're done and we can take a shower," you say, walking your fingers playfully up his chest. You lean up to give him a quick kiss but he grabs your waist to keep you there, turning it into a steamy makeout session.

"I've missed you so much," Austin breathes out, his forehead touching yours.

"I've missed you too," you say, tilting his head lower to kiss his nose.

You disengage and he heads to his trailer so the makeup team can remove his bold cap.

A while later you get a text from Austin:

R u coming? We had a deal remember?

You mutter an excuse and head towards his trailer, willing yourself not to run.

#

When you enter, you see him running a hand through his wet hair, the bald cap gone. He still hasn't removed his costume.

"Want some help with that my lord", you ask, starting to unzip the back of his wetsuit.

When he hears you call him that Austin feels a shiver run down his body. He turns and wraps his arms around you.

"Say that again," he growls.

His eyes are dark with desire and you swear you can see Feyd still lurking in the background, ready to pounce.

"You should play the bad guy more often. It's a good look on you...my lord."

"Yeah? Wanna show me just how much you like it?"

You grip his neck, fingers tangled in his hair, and kiss him long and hard, your tongues fighting for dominance. You bite his lip when he pulls away and the groan that escapes from his throat sets your whole body on fire.

He returns the favour by placing kisses on your jaw and down your neck. When he reaches your collarbone he gives it a bite in just the right spot, making heat pool between your legs.

You lean into him, feeling his erection against you and bite his earlobe, whispering into his ear: "I want you inside me."

Austin's hands tighten on your ass and he gives you a smouldering look. His blue eyes are dark with desire as he dives in to kiss you again.

You start undressing each other frantically, hands running all over, tongues locked in a dizzying dance. The room fills with the sounds of heavy breathing, your moans, Austin's groans and wet kisses.

He grabs you by the hand and pulls you into the shower.

You're both panting while he turns around to fidget with the water tap. You admire his naked body while he adjusts the temperature. He's a work of art - all lean muscle chiselled to perfection.

Your eyes travel down his chest to the trail of hair under his belly button and between his thighs and the sizeable erection he's got. His penis is perfect: a round red tip, its length marbled by veins. You can't wait to taste it and feel it inside you.

You can't believe he's yours.

"My eyes are up here, gorgeous", Austin's amused voice brings you out of your dazed wet dream.

"And what a sight they are," you smile up at him.

After seeing you standing gloriously naked before him, raking your lust-filled stare over his body, Austin can't hold himself back any longer.

His hands come up to grab your face and he bends down to devour you. As the kiss deepens, Austin's hands travel down your body, lingering on your breasts. He pinches one of your nipples and you moan into his mouth.

He breaks the kiss to look at you.

Before you can answer he bends down and licks your neck, slowly descending to your left nipple.

"Fuck you're gorgeous. I can't wait to be inside you."

You start kissing his neck, his chest, his abs, your hands trailing down to his hips. His skin tastes salty from the sweat. You kneel in front of him and lick his length slowly, feeling the veins with your tongue. He lets out a groan and braces himself against the tiled wall.

You place tiny nibbles on the head, squeezing his balls, teasing him. He shudders in ecstasy as you swallow as much of his length as you can and start moving your head up and down slowly.

"Fuck, y/n, you have to stop or I'll come...," Austin pants on top of you. You speed up your pace, locking eyes with him.

Seeing you kneeling before him, your mouth on him, looking at him like that drives him over the edge. Austin comes with a groan and you feel his seed spill into your throat. You take him out of your mouth and give the head a little kiss.

"You taste so fucking good every time," you say standing up.

Austin grabs your cheeks and gives you a rough kiss.

"You have no idea how hot you look on your knees, do you?"

When one of his hands sneaks between your legs and he rubs his fingers on your clit you feel a jolt run over your whole body and you can't stop the moan coming out of your mouth.

Austin hears you moan, hands digging into his back and throws caution away - he bites down hard on your nipple, sliding his fingers into you.

"Fuck Austin", is all you can say, your mind going blank with pleasure. You don't know what's gotten into him, but you love this new, dangerous and dominant side he's showing you.

Austin places wet kisses and nibbles all over your breasts and stomach, pumping his fingers into you. You writhe in his arms, hands tugging his hair.

When his mouth descends on your clit you moan loudly. He bites it and then licks the sore spot, curling his fingers inside you. This sends jolts of electricity all over your body and you feel yourself coming, nails digging into his hair.

"Tell me what you want me to do to you," he says, voice hoarse from lust. You can feel his hard length pressing against your entrance.

Austin groans in pleasure when he hears you moan his name, the pain from your nails digging into his scalp sending bolts of pleasure straight to his groin.

He gets up, grabs your hips and lifts you, your back against the tiled wall.

You look at his soft, puffy lips and can't help kissing him again. Austin groans and slips his tongue into your mouth, making you dizzy.

When he finally breaks the kiss to look at you, you see the passion burning in his eyes, but there's something else there too - something feral. You realise he hasn't shaken Feyd off completely.

That sparks something in you, emboldens you.

"Have your way with me, my lord na-Baron. I'm all yours", you say, threading your fingers through his hair and pulling on it, your hips bucking into him.

Hearing you say that, something in Austin snaps. He can't think anymore, all he knows is that he wants to be inside you, now.

With a quiet growl he bends down to crash his lips into yours, sliding into you in one swift move.

You can't help the cry that comes out of your mouth when he slams into you. You were already wet, but he's big.

The sharp pain quickly turns into intense pleasure as he starts thrusting into you with abandon. You can feel every vein on his hard length as he's stretching you and filling you in the best way.

You've been together for years and every time he enters you feels like the first time. It's like your bodies are pieces of the same puzzle. The feel of him inside you is divine.

Austin doesn't wait for you to adjust to his size, he couldn't even if he wanted to. He's possessed by the desire to be inside you, to own you. He picks up his pace, slamming into you, his teeth leaving red marks all over your neck and shoulders. His left hand is moulded to your thigh, his right squeezing your breast.

You've never seen him like this, so forceful and primal, and you realise you love it. As the pain shoots through the pleasure you find yourself coming, trying not to scream. You mould your lips to Austin's to stifle your moans and that just spurs him on. He continues to slam into you, balls-deep, throughout your climax.

After a while, Austin comes to his senses and realises he's too rough, he's hurting you. Just as he slows down his pace, releasing you from his grip, he hears you say:

"No, don't hold back. I want you to lose control. Ravage me."

He looks into your eyes, making sure he didn't just imagine that, and sees only carnal desire and love there. He can't believe you're his.

"Fuck, I love you," he whispers.

You smile and bite his neck hard. The little control he'd managed to take back shatters. Austin slips out of you so he can turn you around, your back towards him, and slams back into you.

One of his hands travels to your neck and squeezes, the other goes to your nipple.

This angle helps him sink even deeper inside you. The sensation is almost too much and you feel the waves of another orgasm coming. Sex with Austin is always great but this is different. He's lost all control and given in to his desire, and you fucking love it.

Austin feels your walls clenching around him and he knows you're close. The hand around your throat tightens as he moves his other hand from your breast to your clit, running his fingers in agonisingly slow circles, and right before you come he inserts two fingers in.

The feeling of his fingers and his hard length inside you is too much and you trip over the edge, your whole body shaking. You claw at his neck and bury your fingers into his hair as he swallows your moans with a kiss when you both come.

You've never seen this side of him before. He's always so protective of you, so gentle. You realise he's been holding himself back, afraid to lose control and hurt you.

He looks at you apprehensively and you smile at him, tugging him close so you can wrap your hands around his neck and give him a slow, tender kiss.

For a while the only sounds in the shower are the running water and your heavy breathing as you're both coming down from your highs.

Eventually, Austin lets you go and eases out of you with a groan. Your legs are shaking as you lean onto the tile wall while he turns around to adjust the showerhead.

He melts into you, relieved you're okay.

You disengage and proceed with your shower, washing each other's hair and bodies, placing soft kisses here and there.

When you're done, Austin stops the water. He swaddles you in a huge fluffy towel, picks you up and carries you to the bed.

He lies next to you on his side, head propped up, facing you, tiny droplets of water running down his face and torso.

"I'm sorry", he says quietly, giving you a sad puppy look and caressing your face.

"For what? Giving me multiple orgasms?"

"No..." he laughs and then falls silent.

"I hurt you. I don't know what came over me."

"Not what, who. You've still got some of Feyd lurking in the background," you say a soft smile playing on your lips.

"That's not an excuse y/n. I should've stopped...I should've..." he trails off, looking remorseful.

"I don't know if you noticed Butler but I liked it. A lot", you lift his head so he can look at you.

"I'm not made of china you know. Promise me you'll stop holding back on me. This was fucking amazing."

"Yeah it was, wasn't it," he says, finally relaxing, "Okay, but on one condition: you promise to tell me if I cross the line."

"Deal," you say and mould your lips over his.

[detectivemarvelingcomics]

Not Your Classic Vigilante [Ch. 13]

Alternate Dimension AU TW: Language, Light Alcohol, Attempted Kidnapping, CW: OC Use, See the OC Guide [Here] Genre: Drama, Action, Angst, Light Comedy Pairing: Batfamily & Batsis!Reader, OC x Reader YN Pronouns: Female (She/Her) Word Count: 8.8K

(13/?) [First] | [Previous] | [Next] [DC Masterlist] | [Not Your Classic Vigilante Masterlist]

Notes: IT'S FINALLY DONEEEE this is crazy how many chapters have I updated this year? LMFAO Not fully proofread by my awakened mind yet but I did run it through grammarly lol I'll give it a proper look later

Disclaimer: This series is originally by @fandom-meanderer who is a close friend of mine, but she has since fallen out of her Tumblr days and asked me to finish a few series for her, hence why I am now in ownership of the Not Your Classic Vigilante series, I hope I can still live up to her writing as I rewrite this series! (I promise not to change too much, hehe)

2012

Things were different. Lonelier. And maybe a bit sadder. You stood in front of the room that now loomed over you, and you took a deep breath to steady your nerves. You opened it, the door slamming against the wall with a loud bang, and you waited, you waited for the usual ‘Get out of my room!’ But none came. And there hasn’t been one for months now. You walked inside, still a mess and untouched as it was the night before he left, and you sat in the middle of it, hugging your legs close to your chest.

“There’s another party downstairs,” you said out loud. “I was thinking I should go for a walk, should I?��� You wondered aloud. No answer. No 'Wait for me,' no 'ask Dick to go with you.' Just silence. You just wanted a quiet place to escape the noise, what with the gala going on downstairs and your father acting in front of the masses, you just didn’t feel up to it. Besides, Dick wasn’t even there to keep you company this time. You sat in the silence for a while, looking around the room as if he was hiding somewhere and was about to jump out to scare you. But no surprises came. Instead, you got up, took one of the dusty books from the shelf, and left the room.

“Oh, hey!” A younger boy stood in front of you, he looked vaguely familiar. “Could I ask you a quick question?” 

“Yeah, the party’s just downstairs, walk down the corridor and you’ll hit the ballroom eventually,” you answered.

“No, it’s something else,” he shakes his head.

“Ah, the bathroom is also downstairs right next to the ballroom,” you cut him off and turned to walk into your room.

“(Y/N) Wayne. I know who your father is, we need to talk.” That got your attention. You stopped with your hand on the doorknob and sighed.

“Right, he’s a businessman, nothing else,” you nodded. But the boy’s face remained grim. “Let’s go somewhere private,” you nudged your head further down the hall and he followed. Once you were both situated in a secluded part of the mansion, he spoke up.

“I’m Tim Drake,” he introduces himself. You shook his hand. Tim Drake, a couple years your junior, you've seen him around in your family's galas before but you've never really talked to him, you were always more preoccupied with your brothers or too busy taking pictures to go up to the boy who tended to stay on the sidelines more.

“I know.” Now you remembered him, he’d gone to a few of your father’s galas before.

“Oh, cool, I was worried for a second, we didn’t usually talk much,” he says, “you were always with two older guys.”

“My brothers.”

“I know that,” Tim shrugs. “I tracked you down because I had a favor to ask you,” he says.

“Sure,” you agreed only as a formality. The Waynes and the Drakes were somewhat of friends. Tim glanced around.

“Batman needs a Robin,” he says quietly. You wondered how he figured it out. There was no point in hiding anything either, he must have been really smart to have figured out your identities, even people who worked right next to your dad couldn’t have deduced it. “Don’t try to deny it, I have pictures,” he says. You shook your head.

“If you’re asking me then that means that Dick said no, huh?”

“Right away,” Tim mutters.

“I can’t give you an answer,” you told him. But Tim’s eyes seemed to shine, as if he’d found a treasure he’d been looking for. Why he was so desperate, you didn’t know. “Well, either way, you figured them out, I’m sure you can think of something too just in case,” you replied bluntly. 

“Thank you, (Y/N),” he says. “Even just thinking about it is enough.”

“Why do you feel like you should do this, though?” You asked him.

“I…” Tim hesitated. “I’m sure you know as well as I do the kind of rampage Batman has been on in the city.” You were. Recently, you were certain, that your father and the one behind the mask are two different people now.

“And you think having a Robin would help him?” You muttered. 

“Yes, I do, and who better than his own daughter?” He asks. You looked away and toward your clasped hands.

“You may be asking the wrong person, Tim, I have no qualifications to be a Robin,” you say.

“Better you than none,” Tim insists.

“I could never do what they did,” you shut your eyes. “The Batman... he scares me,” you mumbled, clutching onto the book in your arms a little tighter now.

“I’m sorry,” Tim says. You held your hand up to stop him. 

“I’m sorry too, Tim, this isn’t a good time,” you shook your head, stood up, and you left. You admired Tim’s good intentions, truly, but they paled in comparison to the thoughts that ran rampant in your mind right now. You just lost a brother. Your father didn’t want to listen to you. Your other brother was nowhere to be found, and that left you to mull all this over. 

You felt lost.

Lost in your thoughts, and all alone. This was the first time, the first in a long time, where you once again felt alienated in this manor. Not a vigilante and barely a Wayne, was donning the Robin mantle what you needed to do to be seen again?

You didn’t know.

~

2022

The three brothers climbed onto the train after Damian pulled an insignia out of his pocket. 

“The Captain sends her regards,” Damian says to the guards. They salute and march away after leading them to a private cabin, one that Damian shut and locked as soon as the other two were situated.

“Alright, Damian, you first,” Tim invites him. Damian nods.

“After that man teleported me here, I woke up on a battlefield, it was… very different than the ones we’ve seen before,” he says. “Everything in this world is different from ours, laws, people, everything,” he says. “I don’t even know where to start for you two. I’ve been here for almost two months now and I’m still learning things.”

“Two months?!” Tim shouts. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah?”

“Damian, you went missing two weeks ago,” Jason corrects.

“Weeks? No, no, I’ve been here for a while now,” Damian shakes his head. Tim pulls out the remains of the watch. “Where did you get that?”

“(Y/N) left it behind before she left,” Tim mumbles.

“This is it. This is the watch that the stranger had too,” Damian takes the watch and opens it.

“So this is the culprit then,” Tim looks down at it. “Maybe we could reverse it somehow to get home.”

“Not in this state, it won’t,” Damian shuts the watch in his hands and places it in his pocket. “I’ve been trying to do my own investigation, but without the watch and with the constant surveillance I’ve been drawing blanks.” 

“Superveillance?” Tim, always the skeptic.

“To avoid any unnecessary complications, I had to hide in plain sight, but that greatly restricted my movements,” Damian grumbles. “Now you two, how did you figure it out?”

“We were tugging it around, and somehow it activated the mechanism inside of it,” Tim explains.

“Before I was transported, the man swang it back and forth, maybe moving the watch is key to activating it,” Damian hypothesizes.

“Movement of some kind, but it has to be precise, otherwise you’d be teleporting everywhere with every step,” Tim swings the pendulum of a clock, but in its sorry state nothing happens.

“Well, either way, we’re not going to figure out shit with it like this,” Jason shakes his head. “I say we find (Y/N) then we figure out how to fix the thing.”

“That’s a good start,” Tim agrees.

“Luckily, I know where she is,” Damian cuts in, “we’ve been sticking close to each other since I landed here.”

“That’s good! She’s alright, then? Safe?” Tim worries. Damian hid the smile behind his hand.

“Good, great even, and most of all safe,” he answers. The train halts and Damian stands up first. “But, since I have you both here, we’re going to have to figure out a way to have both of you go under the radar too. So I’ll share the story we've been using.” Tim and Jason shared wary glances.

“Okay.”

“Sure.”

“We’re from the mountains—”

“Fuck, couldn’t you have come up with something more believable?” Jason groans.

“Trust me, it’s worked so far, it explains our general lack of knowledge on how everything in this universe works as for the lack of ID,” he starts, “so, we’re from a mountain village. Recently, due to impoverished conditions, our parents sent all of us down to start working and to send money home. It works with (Y/N) in her position, it works with me being inducted late, and we’ll find a way to make it work with you two.”

“Sure, alright, I’ll play along if it means we can get home easier,” Tim says.

“Home… yeah,” Damian nods, but Jason is quick to catch his unease. He chose not to bring it up, though.

“Fine, yeah, I’ll be a farmer, or whatever,” Jason leans back against the seat.

“This world, though, you mentioned different laws. Hell, Jason and I got arrested for taking care of things the way we usually do, how can you explain that?”

“The law enforcement in this world is basically airtight, and it’s based on an honor system,” Damian explains, “At any moment, someone can be removed and replaced in the Knighthood under two circumstances: reasonable petition or honorable combat. Reasonable petition is when enough people with viable grievances petition for a member to be removed. Honorable combat is when someone challenges a Knight for their position. Because of this system, a natural respect is garnered by the people, and as a result of that there’s hardly any petty crime. As for the larger crimes, those are dealt with quickly, there’s far worse problems to deal with in this world than crime,” Damian says.

“And the law?” Jason probes.

“No unreasonable violence without just cause and material evidence,” Damian says. “That’s the best way to put why you two were arrested. The victim ran away so you didn’t have their testimony, the criminal was knocked out cold so he couldn’t say anything anyway, and two people without IDs were spotted at the scene. Not a good look, right?”

“Fair enough,” Tim brushes his shoulder.

“It’s a good thing you two are in civilian attire, makes it easier for you to blend in,” Damian says.

“Yeah… speaking of, where’s your uniform? What’s with the get up?” Jason asks.

“It’s at the apartment right now, we had to keep it hidden. To be able to integrate quickly I joined the Knighthood alongside a new regiment, I lucked out in the timing, but because of that I have a strict regimen to stick to, it’s been hard to investigate, but now that I have you both here we should be able to delegate.” The train slows to a stop and the cabin door opens automatically. Damian held a finger to his lips to signal that the conversation was over and the older two nodded. Damian leads them out of the train and the trio steps into a high-ceiling station. “We’re in the citadel now, the Knightsguard is the primary form of law enforcement here,” Damian says just loud enough for them to hear.

“This looks right out of a fantasy book,” Tim looks around.

“Uh… yeah,” Jason watches people interacting with holograms and other tech he couldn’t have even imagined. “So, where’s (Y/N)?” He asks.

“I’m taking you to her, obviously,” Damian grimaces. “But she’s busy right now, we’ll have to wait, but you’ll be able to see her,” Damian leads them down a series of corridors. “I need you both to remain calm while we’re here, though, remember we have to fly under the radar if we’re all going to go home, that means we have to play by their rules,” Damian says.

“Yeah, I can be calm,” Jason huffs. Tim and Damian deadpan toward him. “What? I can!”

“Says the man who decked someone first thing,” Damian chuckles.

“How’d you even know that was us anyway?!” Jason gasps.

“Two men in their twenties, one used excessive force on a civilian and the other screamed in frustration when it happened, then they argued with each other right after,” Damian recites. “I didn’t even have to listen to your names to know it was you two,” his mouth falls into a flat line.

“That could’ve been anyone, though,” Tim says.

“Sure, in any other earth where law-breaking was common, like ours. I already explained to you that things are different here. Not to mention, those other worse things to worry about,” Damian led the two into an arena-like room.

“Dami! Over here!” A voice yells out.

“Ooh, Dami, huh?” Jason nudges him and Damian rolls his eyes.

“Don’t embarrass me,” he glowers.

“It’s kinda in the job description,” Jason snarks and Damian frowns.

“You two are so similar,” he mumbles under his breath. “I’m coming, I’m coming,” he responds to Retta regardless and the three approach them.

“Whoa, who are these?” Lowen asks.

“These are my brothers, Tim and Jason,” Damian introduces them. “They are also from our backwater mountain village,” Damian glares at Hugo.

“Whoa…” Hugo was stuck in admiration, though.

“You two, the group here are my friends, don’t be weird. The one eating a sandwich is Niers, the one who called us over is Retta, the girl playing with those rocks is Luciana, the one reading over there is Lowen, and the one making googly eyes toward Jason is Hugo,” Damian runs through the list and the group exchanges awkward hellos.

“Well, you’re all just in time! The Brigade’s about to start their sparring matches,” Retta points toward the ring in the middle. “Every month the Brigade checks their individual progress through these matches, randomized opponents and randomized scenarios. Though we don’t have to be here, it’s always fascinating to see how quick-witted they are. Truly they are the best of the best for a reason,” she explains.

“Yeah? We’ll see about that,” Jason mutters.

“Jason’s somewhat of an expert,” Tim nudges him.

“What about you?” Lowen snarks.

“He’s smart,” Damian answers for him.

“That’s… that’s it?” Lowen hums.

“Trust us, he’s the most important one,” Jason sighs.

“Oh! It’s starting!” Niers leans forward, pulling out his phone to start recording. “Looks like Officer Jones and Lieutenant Wright are first,” he says.

“Jones is the one on the left, Wright, I’m sure, looks familiar,” Damian speaks so only the two could hear him.

“Holy shit… that’s Alex,” Jason squints his eyes. “What’s he doing here?”

“I’m still trying to figure that out myself,” Damian leans forward. “I don’t believe in coincidences.”

“In our line of work, those don’t exist,” Tim replies.

“What’s your first impression of them? Just a curious question,” Luciana butts into their conversation, she’s looking at Jason, the so-called expert.

“Well…” Jason leans forward. “Both of them are in the military, that’s clear from their builds. Jones has a broader build, though, his shoulders are heavier but his arms are just as built, he probably uses a heavy weapon, right?”

“Right, he uses battle axes,” Luciana leans back. “And the lieutenant?”

“Hm…” Jason thought back, he’d met Alex a couple of times, that nerd. He couldn’t imagine him wielding anything as heavy as an axe, and with that more balanced build it was clear that, if anything, he would only be able to use lightweight weapons. Then again, Alex is a nerd, and if this world is straight out of a story booy then one thing could be plausible. “Magic user.”

“He is an expert!” Niers gasps.

“Just lucky guesses,” Jason hums.

“Watch the screens there,” Retta points to the monitors. “Look, you can see who’s fighting on that first one and the second one shows the random scenario.”

“Swords, wow,” Lowen closed his book and watched with an intent gaze. “Just look at the way they even hold them,” he was amazed, and rightfully so.

“So, you both have talents in martial arts?” Retta asks.

“Yeah, but I’ve never used a sword before,” Jason shrugs.

“Observe carefully,” Damian mutters. Tim and Jason catch onto his words and they turn their focus to the fight ahead of them.

~

2013

You walked downstairs one night, the moon was high in the sky and the stars just barely peeking out of Gotham’s smog. You had another nightmare, the same one you’ve been having for a while now. Your fear of being left alone because of the looming threat of death was one that you didn’t think would be going away any time soon. You walked into the kitchen, ready to pour yourself a glass of water.

“Hey, (Y/N),” Tim says behind you. You gasped in surprise, nearly dropping the glass while turning around. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he says. There’s a mug in front of him, freshly poured and still cooling down.

“Is everything okay?” You pulled up a chair in front of him and he hesitated before answering.

“… No,” he looks into the mug in front of him. “I know I volunteered to become the next Robin but… training’s been harder than I thought it would be,” he shakes his head.

“That bad?” You rest your head on your hand. “Is Dick being too hard on you?”

“No, it’s not that, if anything Dick is the only one I’m actually learning from,” Tim shakes his head. “It’s just… it’s a lot,” he admits. You leaned forward on the table now.

“Well, for what it counts, I know next to nothing about fighting crime, so if you ever want to take a break, why not spend the day with me? I’m just a boring old civilian, but it’ll be nice to get some fresh air once in a while,” you offered.

“You’re not just a boring old civilian,” he shakes his head. “But… if you’re not doing anything tomorrow, maybe we can do something then?”

“Tomorrow?” You hummed. “Sure, let’s go do something after school,” you nodded. “I’ll tell dad so don’t worry about it, if he gets upset he’d have to go through me first,” you joked.

“Yes! I can’t wait!”

The next day, you and Tim were practically bouncing in your shoes waiting for the day to be over. Tim wondering what you had planned and you wondering how the day will go. This is the first time you’d have something of a younger sibling and you were so excited about it. You were excited to spend time with Tim the same way your older siblings spent time with you. It was a miracle that your dad agreed to let you take Tim out for the day, granted Dick did most of the talking, but you were thankful nonetheless. And, once the bell rang, it was nearly in the blink of an eye that both of you were outside.

“So, what are we doing today?” Tim asks.

“Hmm…” you pulled out two slips of paper and showed them to Tim, blank side up. “Choose one.”

“Any of them?”

“Yup, the one you choose is the one we’ll do today,” you nodded.

“Okay, well…” he looks between them both and selects the left one, “ice cream?”

“Ice cream it is,” you showed him the other paper which simply read ‘Arcade’ and you saw the way his eyes lit up, “this one is for the next time we hang out.”

“Next time?”

“Sure, even heroes need breaks,” you nudged him. “Anyway, there’s this hole-in-the-wall place I used to go to all the time, you’ll love it there, they have this cookie-butter flavor that is just so good,” you hummed.

“Cookie butter sounds good right now,” Tim follows at your heels.

“Hey, catch up! Don’t walk behind me like that,” you waited for him to join you at your side before continuing onward. “Look at those, Timmy,” you pointed into the shop window at the shoes. “I’ve been wanting that pair since forever,” you pointed at the one in the middle.

“Why don’t you just buy them then?” He asks you.

“Where’s the fun in that? My mom taught me from the get-go to earn things before getting them. Sure, her way was a bit…”

“Illegal?”

“Yeah, yeah,” you tilted your head to the side and nodded, “so I decided to combine both her and dad’s philosophies.”

“Beating people up?”

“No, no,” you shook your head quickly. “Work hard to make the prizes more worthwhile. It’s good for goal setting, and motivation, and it feels nice to finally reach a goal,” you pointed at the shoes. “I’m not going to buy those shoes until I graduate high school. No ifs, ands, or buts,” you announced. You and Tim walked into the ice cream parlor next to it and Tim slid into a booth. “How about you, Timmy? What’s your motivation?” Tim hums for a second.

“I want to do what’s right,” he says.

“You sure about that?” You asked him. He looks confused. “Think about it, Tim. I’m gonna get our ice cream.”

“But, that is my motivation.”

“That’s like premeds saying they want to save lives when asked why they wanted to go into medicine,” you explained.

“Well, you want to be a premed, why do you want to go into medicine?”

“Surgery, I want to specialize in that specifically because I like cutting things open,” you laughed and Tim’s face grew grim.

“Are you serious?!”

“Yeah, I mean, cutting things open with consent, duh, but see it’s small reasons that will help you drive your bigger one,” you say. “Anyway, what flavor do you want?”

“Chocolate, please.”

“Sounds good, think about it, Timmy, I’ll be right back.”

~

2022

“Talk about crowd,” Carter looks out from his spot. “When did we become zoo animals?” He nudges you.

“Who knows? It started out with the twins observing us, and now we have half the knighthood here,” you shrugged. “Poor Nix, though, he got the short end of the stick with swords.”

“He was never good at that subject,” you and Carter watched the sword slip out of Nixon’s hand and land stuck to the ground beneath. Alex, meanwhile, stops the blade right as it would’ve hit Nixon’s neck.

“Yield! I yield,” Nixon rose his hands and Alex put the sword away, offering his hand instead, which Nixon took with pride. “Good one, Lex,” he pulls Alex in and the two bump shoulders before separating. “Hey, stage’s all yours!” Nixon flags you both down.

“Yeah, yeah, take your time to walk that one off,” you fired back. Nixon rolled his eyes and followed Alex.

“Nixon, you have to pay more attention to your footing, I didn’t even have to worry about striking you since you were too busy tripping over yourself,” Alex says, “it’s amazing that you can wield an axe a foot taller than you.”

“Hey, come on, an axe is weighed totally differently than a sword,” Nixon shrugs. “Who’s up next anyway?”

“That would be us,” you raised your hand alongside Carter’s.

“Oh, now this I gotta see, you two don’t get paired up often,” Nixon grins. “My money’s on the Captain, of course,” he whispers to Alex.

“That all depends on what the random scenario is,” you shrugged. “If it’s anything other than swordsmanship or rifling, I’m screwed,” you sighed and followed Carter out, keeping your eyes glued to the screen to see the scenario. The words moved through the screen quickly in a wheel-like fashion until they settled on one phrase.

‘Hand-to-hand combat’

“Damn it all,” you cursed. Carter, meanwhile, stretched his arms across his chest. “You’re an expert at this one, Adara.”

“You would know,” he answers with a grin.

“Oh shut up,” you rolled your eyes, but your smile betrayed you. You grabbed the wraps from the table and secured them around your hands. “Go easy, maybe?”

“You’d hate me if I did,” Carter held his hand out and you shook it with a firm grasp.

“Good answer,” you separated and took a deep breath and, once the buzzer sounded, your first move was to block, of all things. Too preoccupied with what was going on in the stands, you were more focused on not getting knocked down.

“Hey, she kinda looks like (Y/N),” Jason whistles. Damian and Tim turn back to look at him, the latter’s jaw on the floor.

“You really are stupid, aren’t you?” Damian clicks his tongue.

“That is (Y/N)!” Tim gestures toward you with open hands and Jason whistles louder.

“Oh!” He leans back to get a wider view. “Oh,” his voice drops alongside his jaw. He shoots up and runs down the bleachers.

“Jason! Don’t do anything dumb!” Tim makes a move to follow, but Damian pulls him down.

“Shh!”

“He’s gonna blow our cover!”

“You’re both going to blow our cover if you make a scene,” Damian hisses. 

“(Y/N)!” Jason cupped his hands around his mouth and your head whipped to the side.

“Jason?!” Now it was your turn to be shocked.

“Twelve o’clock!” He shouts. You duck your head in time to dodge the jab.

“Distracted, cap?” Carter pulls his fists back and you hold your arms in a defensive stance while shaking the shock from your thoughts. You knew Carter well enough to know that he wasn’t going to let you off easy, and such was true when he landed a hit clean on your jaw. You stumbled back on slightly, pushing your mandible back in place.

“Good hit.”

“Not good enough apparently.” Carter was relentless, you knew he had a natural talent at this but goddammit you were about to get schooled in front of the newbies. You blocked another hit from him and ducked under his swing. You could only dodge him for so long, you’d have to fight back eventually, but he kept all of his weak points well-guarded, moving just enough every time to block you off. It was when he knocked the wind out of you, causing you to stumble back and land against the railing, then a small ray of hope appeared.

“Hey, kid,” Jason takes your shoulders and holds you steady, “come on, shake it off. When dealing with opponents twice your size, you gotta go for the spots they won’t think twice of. Looks like this guy doesn’t skip chest day, but if you look at his proportions, your best bet is to go for the legs and then you throw punches,” he instructs. You nodded your head shakily, your pride was getting in the way of your logic right now.

“Yeah, okay, why?” Was all you were able to get out.

“I’ll be damned if my little sister loses in a hand-to-hand fight, this is my bread and butter,” he hits his chest with his fist. “Now go fuck him up!” He pushes you forward and you roll your neck, the world stabilizing around you and your breathing steadying again.

“Okay, I’m back,” you hold your hands in front of you.

“Isn’t that cheating?” He nudges his head toward Jason.

“Please, he just wanted to say ‘hello,’” you shrugged and charged again. Go for the legs, that’s right, that was always Carter’s weak point, why didn’t you think of that before? Good on Jason for noticing it as soon as he looked at him too, just goes to show you still have a lot to learn. Color Carter surprised when you roundhoused him first, knocking him onto his back and grabbing him by the collar. “Yield.”

“Nah,” he grabs your arm and sweeps you off of your feet, you were airborne for a while before you felt yourself pinned to the ground. You broke free from his grasp and rolled to the side, regaining your footing quickly to move out of the way of another swing.

“Come on, (Y/N)!” Of course, Jason was always the loudest in the room. You adjusted steadied your stance and threw a jab just as you moved out of the way of Carter’s right hook.

“Who’s he, anyway?” Carter asks.

“Focus,” you duck behind him and sweep his legs again, this time Carter falls forward, but you grab the back of his shirt on time. “You always keep your back open,” you shook your head.

“Well, I usually have you to watch it,” he pushes up and pivots on his heel, once again grabbing your arm, but you took this as a chance to slam your knee into his abdomen, effectively knocking the wind out of him and pushing him to the side. You stretched your arms out again and, right as he recovered, you landed a hit clean against his jaw, knocking him onto the floor. You shook the stinging pain out of your hands while he raised his right one. “Yield,” he adjusts his jaw and you help him up.

“Goes to show I’m captain for a reason, right?” You pulled him close so you could whisper in his ear. “Why’d you let me win? I know you can pack a harder punch.”

“Half the knighthood’s watching, and that guy who said ‘hello’ is glaring daggers at me,” he nudges his head toward Jason. Jason. You let go of him and turn to your brother, nodding toward the side of the stage, and he catches your signal, going in that direction while you drop the wraps back in their place. “Where are you off to?”

“Investigation, watch over Eve’s and Alex’s spar for me,” you walked under the entrance and spotted Jason at the end. “Don’t get excited, he let me win,” you jutted your thumb behind you, but Jason still had a proud grin on his face.

“Does it matter? Look at you go, kiddo!” He clapped a hand against your back and you groaned. “Now… what the fuck was that?!” His shout was obvious and you squeezed your eyes shut.

“Look, Jay, a lot has changed since we last spoke, but more importantly, what the hell are you doing here? How? Are the others about to come pouring in?” You asked.

“Oh, actually, Tim’s here too.”

“Tim’s here too?!”

“Yeah, wanna say hi?”

“Jason, be serious, you shouldn’t be here, the three of you!”

“Well, duh, Tim and I came here to nab you and Damian and head back.”

“Head back? Do you even know how to head back?!”

“Sure,” Jason pulls out the wristwatch and you grab it, looking at the damaged insignia on the front. It was almost too scraped and worn through to be able to get a clear image, but the shape was a dead giveaway.

“How did you get this?”

“You left it behind?”

“Me? No, no, that’s impossible, I don’t use this model,” you said.

“Model? Wait, you have one of these?” Jason points at it in your hands.

“Yes, kind of, it’s complicated, Jay.”

“And you never came home?!” You stopped. You took a deep breath.

“… No,” you shook your head. You opened the watch. “Whatever you two did to this, it’s busted beyond repair. It can’t get you back now, and the models I use are under lock and key by the Crown,” you shut the watch with one hand and handed it back to Jason.

“And since Damian’s still here then you haven’t been able to get it, huh?”

“Without putting him at risk, no,” you crossed your arms and Jason mirrored your stance. “I’m not going back, Jay.”

“I’m not going to try to convince you,” he says while rubbing the back of his neck harshly. “Look, I know you have your reasons, and I’m not going to bang my head against a wall to understand them—”

“I thought you of all people would understand,” you interjected.

“What?”

“You didn’t come home either, did you?” You asked.

“That was different.”

“How so?” You stepped up. “We both died because of a mistake that father made and we both came back fundamentally changed from who we were before, how are we different?”

“Because you are you and I am me,” Jason points to you then to himself. “I… I can’t explain it other than that,” he shakes his head.

“Sister,” Damian approaches with Tim in tow.

“We’ll finish this conversation later,” you took the watch from Jason’s hand and held it up. “Look familiar, Damian?” You held it by the chain and the younger nodded. “Shit, this just got more complicated,” you muttered. You shoved it into your pocket as soon as you heard footsteps.

“Ayo, Cap!” Nixon waves his hand. “Ayo… everyone else,” he observes the group while the rest of the Brigade follow behind him. 

“Whoa, long time no see, Alex,” Jason waves.

“Hello, Jason,” Alex nods his head. “I don’t suppose daddy dearest will be next, will he?” Alex whispers toward you.

“Interesting to see a familiar face,” Tim was already making connections, you could see it in his expression.

“Shit… the Queen’s gonna kill me,” you slumped your shoulders and your eyes rolled toward the ceiling. “Would it be nepotism if I just tossed them in some honorary role?” You looked at Alex.

“Yes, very, but they’re too old to take the recruits’ test too,” Alex hums.

“It’s fine, there’s no need,” Tim cuts in. “We’ll be in and out, we’re just here to get Damian and (Y/N) and we’ll be on our way—”

“Whoa, whoa, what do you mean you’re here for the captain?” Carter subtly steps next to you now. “Sure, take the kid, we were looking for ways to send him back anyway, but you can’t take her.” He looks toward you and you sigh.

“What do you mean we can’t take her?” Tim frowns.

“Stop,” you held your hand out and the group fell into a tangible silence. “Look, we can’t have this conversation until we even find a way to send them back. We haven’t had access to our watches since we came back, and we can only use those with a direct Royal order, so until then, we’re going to have to find a way for you both to lie low, that’s why I inducted Damian into the Knighthood, it gave me a way to keep an eye on him while I researched the monster outbreaks,” you explain.

“There’s monsters here too?” Tim asks.

“Naturally,” you nodded. “Any of you have any ideas on how I handle my brothers?” You looked at your team.

“You are taking this surprisingly well,” Alex comments. You look at your watch.

“No time to freak out, I have to head down to the lab soon, there are developments with the daemon I need to check out,” you silenced your phone, “well? Anyone?”

“It’s a long shot, but…” Eve hums. “I know we have openings on our research team, we could probably fit them in there,” she says.

“I could do that,” Tim says. “Jason, though, I’m not too sure,” he looks at his brother, who crossed his arms.

“There is that way,” Alex speaks up but you shook your head.

“No way.”

“Well, it’s your best bet if you don’t want Jason around vials ten times older than he is,” Alex insists.

“What is it? I can handle it,” Jason nods.

“Mm… who would he fight though? He has to take someone’s place,” you mumbled.

“Or, if he fought someone with high authority and they were impressed with him that could work too,” Alex insists.

“Who has that authority?” You asked him.

“…” Alex didn’t answer.

“Oh,” your eyes widened slightly with the realization. “Okay, yeah,” you nodded. “Jason, repeat after me,” you looked at him and he nodded. “I, Jason Todd.”

“I, Jason Todd.”

“Challenge.”

“Challenge?”

“The Captain of the Brigade.”

“The Captain of the Brigade.”

“For a position on their team.”

“For a position on their… team?” Jason’s head tilts slightly.

“Sure, challenge accepted,” you took his hand and shook it.

“Wait… What?!” You pushed him toward the arena. “Hold on!”

“See you guys in a bit, I’ll explain everything after this, promise, meanwhile someone makes up an ID for him and Timmy,” you looked at your team and they nodded, heading toward the stands. “Jason, make it look realistic, yeah? Eyes everywhere.” You pushed him out of the entryway and Jason looked around the arena. He’d seen it from above, but to be in the center of it all was a whole new experience.

“Get a load of this! Someone challenged the Captain!” A voice shouted.

“Captain Wayne?! He doesn’t stand a chance!”

“Who is he anyway? Someone pull up his ID.”

“Not every day we see someone not in the Knighthood challenge, should be interesting.”

“What did you get me into?” Jason asks, looking around the now looming arena.

“Shh,” you pointed toward the screens. The phrases rolled in roulette until it settled: No scenario. “Well, that’s just luck.” Two tables rose on either side of you. “Take your pick, Jay. Whichever you choose I’ll go with too. If I’m impressed, I’ll induct you in, if not… well, we’ll deal with that after,” you shrugged and stood at the table, waiting for your opponent to make his choice. Jason, as predicted, picked up the pistols. “Don’t worry, there’s an enchantment on them, nothing here is deadly,” you told him, picking up your own pair of guns. “We’re sparring, not killing.”

“Sure, yeah,” he gives them a spin to test their weight, and, strangely enough, they felt perfect. “So what exactly are we doing?”

“Only way I can keep you two close by. Tim goes with research, you stick by me. I can’t have you running off punching people, Jay.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“Not here you can’t, god, you’re worse than Damian,” you readjusted your grip around the handles. “Think of it as a spar, you’ve done plenty of those.”

“This isn’t fair, though,” Jason stood at one end of the arena. “You’ve watched me since I started, you know all my moves.”

“Not true, there was a three-year gap, right? I would hope you learned something new.”

“Oho, you really are my sister if you’re making jokes about your death,” Jason held the pistol up. “I saw that fight too, let’s get caught up,” Jason takes the first shot and you move out of the way just in time, taking your own shot in response.

~

2015

“So, anyway,” Tim takes a bite of his cheeseburger while you drank your soda, “Conner did some crazy shit where he ripped the robot in two, it was insane!” Tim continued to tell his story but soon he caught himself.

“It’s okay, he’s still your best friend,” you urged him to continue.

“Still, though, I mean…” Tim crosses his arms.

“At least he did it the right way, he broke up with me first,” you shrugged. “And it’s good for you too! You don’t have to hear me talking about him anymore,” you nudged him playfully and continued eating. “Anyway, you were saying?”

“Oh, it’s nothing, sis,” he shakes his head. “Plus, I’m out here with you, why would I want to talk about work?” Tim groans. “How are you?”

“Oh, you know, the usual,” you hummed. “I’ve just sent out my applications. I’m looking into some different universities,” you pulled up the list on your phone. “I’m really looking at Metropolis or Central City, they have strong STEM programs that I’m interested in,” you said.

“Oh… what about Gotham U?” Tim asks. You look up from your phone and you don’t quite think you’ve seen that expression on him before.

“Of course, that’s my safe university, I’m pretty much guaranteed acceptance with my namesake alone,” you cleared your throat. “Is… is everything okay, Timmy?” You asked him. You couldn’t beat around the bush anymore. You’d noticed Tim being a bit more… resistant to certain things going on in the house. You leaving for college being one of them, you never noticed just how close you two were until now.

“Bruce… he doesn’t need me anymore, huh?” He says quietly.

“Oh, Tim, don’t say that,” you straightened your posture and you took a deep breath.

“And you… you have an actual younger brother now,” Tim says quietly.

“Hey, come on, blood doesn’t make the bond,” you say. “Plus, no one could ever replace you,” you continued. “I mean, not just anyone memorizes 200 digits of pi for fun.”

“Come on, that’s nothing!” Tim grumbles.

“Definitely something, Tim I cry tears of joy when problems tell me to just use pi instead of 3.14,” you laughed. “But, I’m serious, Tim, if anything you’re going to get promoted,” you grinned. Tim shoots you an uneasy smile.

“Yeah, I guess, I don’t know what exactly I’m so worried about,” he says. “I mean… well, I don’t know,” he stops and decides not to pursue it any further. “But, uh, Metropolis, huh? That’s a good school!”

“I know, just a little far now that I think about it,” you muttered. “Gotham’s program isn’t so bad either, I guess,” you hummed and took a quick glance at Tim, who already seemed a little happier.

“But, (Y/N), you don’t have to go there, you looked excited talking about those other two,” Tim catches your glance. “It’s just… they’re far,” he leans back against the booth. “We can’t be with you there, you know? You’d be on your own and you’re a Wayne and…”

“Hey, I can handle myself pretty well, I think,” you insisted. “I mean, I made it this far, right?”

“Because you had us!”

“Tim,” your voice dropped and you looked both ways, ensuring that no one was listening. “I get that I’m not as… extraordinary as you all, but I’m not helpless, I can take care of myself, I’ve been taking care of myself, and I know you mean well, but Tim you’ve gotta trust me a little,” you folded your hands in front of you. “I’m not as fragile as Dick likes to make me out to be.”

“That’s… that’s not what I meant,” Tim looked away and you sighed.

“I know, I know you just want me to be safe, all of us,” you crossed your arms. “But I can’t just live in fear. One thing being in this family teaches you is how to be careful,” you looked to the side. “And another thing it teaches you is that family is what you make it,” Tim looked at you now. “Dick and I aren’t blood-related, neither was Jason, and neither are you, but still I have never looked at any of you as anything other than my brothers. The same goes for Babs, Steph, and Cass, you’re all my family regardless of anything, and I will always put you all first. But, with that said, the same goes for Damian. He’s young, alone, and probably confused, we can’t alienate him just because of his background, if anything, that’s why we should accept him more. And you, Tim, I get it, you’re different from the first two, but that doesn’t make you any less than them, hell, I bet if Jason were here right now he’d say the same.”

“But…”

“No ‘buts, Tim, I mean it, you’re amazing!”

“Maybe… maybe I’ll take a page out of your book then, (Y/N), retire early,” he says. Your shoulders slumped.

“Whatever you want, little bro. And if you do, I’ll be here to help you out. And if not, I’ll still be here.”

“Even if you’re miles away?”

“You know, there’s this wonderful invention called cell phones.”

“Stop it! You know what I mean!”

“Yes! Yeah, of course, even if I’m partying it up in Central City, if you call me I’ll come running, I know you’d do the same.”

“Well, that goes without saying,” Tim crosses his arms now.

“So… the new team, huh? I’d love to meet them.”

“Oh, you are going to love them, (Y/N)!” Tim beams.

~

2022

You just narrowly dodged the bullet this time, had Jason already gotten a reading on you? Impossible. You had to switch up your tactics quickly or else you’d actually lose. Think, (Y/N), what was he going to do next? Jason, as much as a wildcard he is, you could read him easily. He had these kinds of wind-ups to certain moves, you noticed. Like now, that roll of his shoulder, he’s going in for a hook so now you had to think about where he’s aiming. If he ducks low enough it’s your abdomen, if he keeps his level then it’s your shoulder. Leave it to Jason to play dirty, he picked up the pistols only for them to be a red herring, but, then again, you should’ve expected this from him as soon as he holstered the damn things.

But you knew him as well as he knew you. You play by the rules, maybe a little too much, out of the box operations were more of Carter’s forte while you and Alex tried to stick to orders more. But, come to think of it, you’d always been this way. Always doing what you’re told and never standing up until you have to. Then here’s Jason, an absolute force of nature when he’s pissed and an unstoppable machine when he’s focused.

You dodged his punch and bounced back, creating some distance before aiming the pistol and taking three shots. One on his arm, the other on his leg, and the third missed its mark when it grazed his shoulder. On each impact the bullet dissipated, hitting him with enough force to push him back but hardly enough to leave more than a bruise. You switched hands and fired another round, this time the bullet grazed his cheek and Jason couldn’t stop the proud smirk that rose on his face.

You never really got why your siblings were so crazy about sparring. Sure, you got it from a training standpoint, but their obsession with it was on a new level. It was just a pass time for them and you’d just sip on a juicebox and wait for them to finish.

But you get it now.

It’s a whole different language, one that was perfected by the Waynes. Each attack was like a part of a conversation, let’s get caught up, you get what he meant now. Even your spars with the other members of the Brigade weren’t this entertaining, and everyone in the stands agreed. Usually, you’d hear roars of shouts but this time it was silent. Everyone was watching in tense observation, trying to see if Jason had what it takes to join the Brigade and, hell, he actually might.

“Come on, Jay, you picked up those pistols, use them,” you taunted. Jason shook his head and charged again, you barely moved out of the way this time. “You’re faster.”

“I do cardio with Steph.” You ducked under his swing.

“Wider shoulders too.” He grabbed your fist before you could hit him and you shook him off before he could toss you.

“Dick would kill me if I skipped chest day.” You held the pistol up but misfired.

“Thought he was more of a glutes guy.” Jason evades your attacks easily.

“You know that’s all genetics.” He shrugs and you take this chance to shoot at his foot, causing him to lose his balance temporarily.

“True.” It didn’t last long, Jason was up on his feet in seconds and you were planning your next attack.

“I’m starting to think you just use those things as a safety blanket,” you looked at either pistol and Jason rolled his eyes.

“You know one thing about you that hasn’t changed, kiddo?”

“What?”

“You still don’t look under you.”

“What?” You looked down and your breath stopped, seeing the array of bullet shells and spikes beneath you. “Now when did you get those?”

“Had them from the beginning, you just weren’t paying attention,” he shakes his head.

“Effectively, this would be a draw,” you looked around you, one misstep would be something of an unfortunate lego brick under your shoes. “Neither of us can move forward,” you explained.

“Oh yeah? Boring,” he shakes his head.

“This match is over,” you announced, stretching out your neck and, in seconds, all the weapons disappeared as if in a simulation and the cheering was deaf to you. “I like you, you’re not Brigade material, but I’ll find a place for you,” you held your hand out and he shook it.

“Sure, I look forward to it,” he says. 

“So, I have to ask, why didn’t you use them? Wanted to prove you didn’t need them?”

“You really think I would shoot you? Spar or not, I couldn’t do that,” he shakes his head. You stopped for a moment, but regained your senses before anyone could notice. “Now what?”

“I either get my ass kicked by the queen or we start your onboarding, should be quick, I’m putting you in one of the honorary squadrons,” you nodded. Jason followed you into the end of the arena. “What we talked about earlier? We discuss it to no one. Not Damian, not Tim, and no one on my team,” you said.

“What did we talk about again?” Jason caught your hint.

“Captain! Captain, we have a problem!” Marion was quick to meet you.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“That beast from a few months ago, the one that attacked the new recruits! It’s back! It’s in the courtyard right now! Aldryn’s moving the royal family to a safe house as we speak.”

“Shit,” you looked at Jason, then to Marion. “Take me there,” you pulled your phone out and held it to your ear. “All members of the Brigade report to the courtyard, we have another Daemon to take care of,” you held your hand over the speaker, “Mary how many of them are there?”

“We counted one so far, but if it’s anything like before…” She doesn’t finish her sentence.

“You take the recruits and go somewhere safe, we’ll call for help if we need it.” You ran off toward the courtyard and Marion looks at Jason.

“Who are you?” She asks.

“I’m with her,” Jason jogs after you. “What the hell is a Daemon, (Y/N)?!”

“We have monsters. This is a recent one that happens to decimate towns,” you explained, “why are you following me? Go somewhere far!”

“I wouldn’t even know where to go!” Jason defends. You both stop once you reach the outdoors and Jason swallows down his words. “That… is that it?”

“Whatever it is… that is not the one that attacked the recruits before,” you looked up. It was huge, bigger than anyone you had fought before. It towered over you easily while fresh blood dripped down its maw. It spots you and its ears straighten in alert while its eyes, empty white sockets, bored their way into you. Your eyes drifted to its neck and you could just barely make out the glint of metal that was hidden in its fur. You held your phone up again. “We need it alive.”

“Roger,” Nixon answered first.

“I’ll handle crowd control,” Alex says.

“I’m on my way now,” Eve was next.

“Can you handle it until we get there?” Carter.

“Sure… maybe.” The beast growled and, maybe you were just noticing it, but with every roar or grunt the skies seemed to get darker.

Not Your Classic Vigilante: @gabytodd @peachydokii @marshmallow12435 @f0leysgurl @luminaaz @lolsnack @akuri-shinsou @pansinspace @time-shardz @lovely-maryj @urminebutidontwantyou @y3oudsc @rainnyydaysworld  @underworldempire @franini @mayo-0-o 

If you want to be added to the tag list or removed just send me a reply to this post, and ask, or a DM and I’ll add you as soon as possible!

[snnnailmail]

I see you need some Howdy requests °^°, I am here to provide!

I think it would be cool to see Howdy grow some kind of self-awareness much like wally. Its small stuff first, seeing a small thin crease line up where the sky is and he probably thinks its just his eyes playing tricks on him. Then it would start to derail to seeing the seems of his friends, and feeling that something is isnt quite right no matter how he twists and turns, his body doesnt feel like *his* now, and we're basically here to try to do some damage control because he draws attention to himself (wally side eyeing him heavily)

-🌼

:DDD here’s something like that!! Sorry if I didn’t hit everything,, when I start writing my own visions take over and I forget I’m filling out a request. Anyways,,, I think the concept of walk-around puppets in this universe is horrifying. Here’s my take.

GN! Reader / Ambiguous species

cw: horror and unreality

additional tags: hurt and comfort (you comfort Howdy!)

Also remember my guy has a Transatlantic accent,, so cool so swag. All that time watching Westerns has paid off for me.

<333333333333

When you step into the shop, you’re met with all kinds of pleasantries.

‘Howdy-hey! What’s the news today, sweetheart?’

‘Oh! You’re just in time! I’m having a special on jokes! This ones a kicker! Heard it from Barns himself!’

Not this.

The seven-foot-tall pillar of Home fiddling with his hands like they weren’t his own. If he weren’t your friend it would be grotesquely unprofessional.

“What’s got you down, Howdy?”

You tried to approach this like it was just another bit. Like he was going to announce that someone had picked up the wrong order and he’d send you on a quest around town to find the oblivious culprit. Hilarity ensued.

The look on his face told you otherwise.

No script this time. Just terror.

He shook his head, like some sort of thought was trying to come loose that he just couldn’t get rid of.

“Oh, ah, nothing to bother about. I just got a late shipment to fuss over… right before closing time, too! A shame. I’ll be getting home late tonight. Good thing my home is upstairs, ey? Haha!”

The change in demeanor was relieving, but you were still uncomfortable.

“Oh… I’ll give you a hand, in that case!”

Two hands found his cheeks, one flipped towards you bashfully. “That’s so sweet… you think I need six hands to get around here? By all means!”

You grinned, forgetting whatever your reason was for stopping by. You stepped behind the counter.

But then you paused. It hit you, that you had never been back here before. No one has.

Howdy looked at you happily, blankly. “Weird, huh?”

“Yeah.”

He headed towards the back. You took a second to confirm with yourself that neither of you were going to elaborate. At least not yet, you think. You followed him.

He did indeed have a shipment. All kinds of inventory. Fruit, snacks, cleaning supplies.

“Our little town sure goes through a lot.”

He was beside you with all four hands on his hips.

It was silent for a moment.

“Who brings you these?”

Howdy laughed with closed eyes. “That… I would love to know.”

The two of you worked quietly. Whether occupied with stocking, or just processing the events prior, you didn’t know. You didn’t mind the silence, but the air was heavy. Like there was something you two should have been acknowledging, but it was lost, or hiding.

You decided to stick around and help him close. Putting up food and taking apart warmers, mostly.

“I can’t believe you do all this by yourself every night.”

“All in a day’s work! ‘Sides, being busy ain’t too bad.”

“Yeah, I get that.”

“It feels good to be good for something. Even here.”

The silence was back, but now you were looking at him.

“Less time to think, right?”

Howdy’s eyes widened, like the notion had been ready to jump off his head the whole time, and he couldn’t believe you put it in the air like that. And then his eyes sank in relief, because you felt it too.

“Don’t be shy to come around when you need to quit all that thinking. There’s plenty here to keep you busy.”

“I will.”

Work resumed, putting everything in its place.

“Be careful, darlin’.” He said, uncharacteristically quiet.

“You too.”

And he laughed, and you didn’t like that.

When all was said and done the two of you looked at the pristine store with some sort of pride, muddled by grief that you weren’t even contemplating before you stepped in. Hazy orange shadows coated the walls and floor.

“How about you stay the night? Wouldn’t want you out and about in the dark.”

“Yeah, yeah. Sure.”

But this wasn’t a sleepover of games and stories and staying up past bedtimes. You just needed to be there, and be real. As real as you could get.

Howdy was gazing out the window of his bedroom.

“Funny how dark it gets out there. You would think… I’m not so sure, actually.”

You scooted over to confirm. His window might as well have been a pitch black rectangle. You could just barely make out the outline of Home and their kind eyes.

You closed the curtain.

The two of you settled down for the night. Howdy’s sleeping routine involved spreading out a blanket and rolling himself up in it like a cocoon, or a burrito, and that was kind of funny. You laid right beside him and kept your eyes glued to the ceiling. A night light glowed softly to the side, shaped like a butterfly. A gift, probably.

Howdy didn’t have many qualms sleeping. He worked too hard for his mind to stay wired through the night.

But you sure made it easier, he thought. He imagined the hours rolling by a lot differently if he was alone with his thoughts. Thoughts of scary things, like the sky. The pitch black sky. Like a sheet had been thrown over the entire expanse of home. Everyone knew what the moon was. Where was it?

You shifted beside him, and his train of thought pushed the breaks, coming to a gentle stop.

Wally approached you the next day, casually, as you were tending to some plants.

“Hi, you. What were you up to last night, neighbor?”

You gave him an odd look, but you were used to nosy neighbors at this point.

“Oh, with Howdy! I had no idea I hung out till dark, so we had a sleepover.”

Wally hummed. “That’s sweet.” And walked away. You let out a breath of air when he was out of earshot.

You’ve been paying more attention to your caterpillar friend since then.

He’s been distant. On the occasion he leaves the shop, he’s always glancing around like someone was going to leap out of the bushes and tell him he’s been duped.

He’s always been suave, persuasive. A cool cat or whatever. With so many arms and hands and fingers you can easily spot the anxiety creeping into his form. Your friends noticed, too. Wally seemed especially worried. Poor guy.

You were at the shop one day, just visiting, checking up. Howdy’s demeanor was… upsetting. He kept all his hands in a ball, fidgeting.

It was well past closing and a little yellow figure was passing by the doors. Howdy ushered you to the back. You went along, albeit slightly alarmed.

“You good?”

Howdy rubbed the back of his neck. “Ah— you bet, you bet. Just don’t want any last-minute customers. Love em’, but they’re a pain to clean up after.”

You weren’t convinced. You looked back towards the entrance, but Howdy had taken your hands.

“Just tell me something.”

Unexpected, but this is the most you’ve gotten out of him about the whole conundrum in a while. You nodded.

“Alright. Now this will sound strange, but I need you to put your hands on my hands. Just feel em’.”

His two lower arms raised towards you, and Howdy was your friend and frankly you didn’t care about how strange it sounded, so you reached out and intertwined your fingers. Gave them a squeeze. Just like everyone else, they were soft and cushiony. If you pinched hard enough you could feel your fingers on both sides, but that would hurt. You looked back up.

“Okay.” He replaced those with his upper set of arms. Not having second thoughts, you took those as well.

And paused.

Solid. Completely. You could almost say they were warm. You looked up at him in alarm, still holding his hands, squeezing them, like if you held them long enough they would go back to being normal and you two could laugh about this, but you knew that wasn’t a possibility. Your thumb was on his wrist. It was beating, flowing.

“There is something terribly wrong with me.”

[vorchagirl]

“You’ve got a fever. Of course I’m not going anywhere." for Shepard/Kaidan? 👀👀👀 (Also, hi, Lena! I hope you're doing well, and happy new year, my friend! <3)

Hello my lovely friend! Happy New Year to you too! I was very happy to write this for you - a little bit of Kaidan and Shep sweetness! Enjoy!

“Shepard?”  

Her cabin was in near darkness as Kaidan quietly opened the door and peered in. He gave his eyes a moment to adjust to the gloom, then he slipped inside and let the door close behind him. The only light came from the dim screen of her terminal which had been left active, but it was enough light for him to see the lumpy shape in the bed, and a bedraggled spill of red hair across the pillow.

Was she finally sleeping?

He padded barefoot across to her bed and set the glass of water down on the bedside table, then gently pressed a hand to her forehead to gauge her temperature. Her pale skin was flushed, and her temperature still sky high. Kaidan pressed his other hand to her cheek, and wondered not for the first time why she was stubbornly staying in her room instead of going to medbay.

She groaned, burrowing her face into the cool touch of his skin, and her eyes opened a crack, enough for him to get a glimpse of green, before she closed them again.

“Hey, boy scout,” she murmured. “I thought you were sick of me and you’d gone to bed.” 

He smiled softly and smoothed her hair back from her forehead. “You’ve got a fever. Of course I’m not going anywhere.” Kaidan helped her sit up, and tucked a second pillow under her. “Have some water, you need to stay hydrated.” 

“Yes, mom.” Despite her weak attempt at sarcasm, Shepard took the glass he offered her with trembling fingers and took a long sip. With a grateful sigh she pressed the cool glass against her forehead, and sank back against the pillows. “I blame you for this.” 

The rest is under a cut ^_^

“Me?” Kaidan chuckled as he took the glass and set it down, then brushed some sweaty strands of hair off her cheeks. “And how exactly am I responsible for you catching a virus?” 

She pulled the blanket up to her chin and peered at him across the top, her green eyes impish and adorable despite the fever. “I was showing off,” she admitted, her voice muffled by the blanket. “When we were in the snow on that last mission, and you told me I should keep my helmet on and stay warm? I laughed at you and said the cold didn’t bother me, but I was just showing off.” 

He saw a flush of embarrassment creep up what he could see of her face before she ducked under the blanket, hiding. 

“Ah,” Kaidan mumured as he eased himself onto the bed beside her and tugged the blanket back down. “So it’s my fault that you’re irresponsible?” He pressed a quick kiss to her forehead, on both cheeks, and to the tip of her nose. “I’m the bad guy, huh?”

Shepard nodded. “Yes, you’re a bad influence.” She wiggled a hand free from the blanket and touched her lips. “You forgot to kiss me here.” 

Her tone was whiny, almost petulant, and he chuckled and leaned forward, catching her lips with his in a much more intimate kiss. He teased her lips apart with his tongue, one hand cupping her face as he pressed her back into the bed and wriggled under the blanket beside her. 

If she hadn’t been so sick…

Kaidan chased the thought away. Now was definitely not the time to linger on such things, even if she looked ridiculously cute when she was cocooned in bed. He drew back from the kiss slowly and traced his thumb over her lip. “I dunno Commander, sometimes I think you’re the bad influence in this relationship.” 

She shook her head as she curled up beside him, burrowing her flushed face into the curve of his neck and pressing her lips against his skin. “No,” she mumbled argumentatively. “It's definitely you. But you can make it up to me?”

“Mmm?” He wrapped his arms around her and glanced down, she looked so adorable and small against him. Like a harmless little kitten instead of a trained N7. He hugged her closer. “I’ll give you anything you need, Shepard.”

He felt her smile against his neck, those red lips curving against him. “You can start by calling me Gina.”

[autismnation]

Scare 2

Summary: Part 2 to this. You and Hobie get to know each other a bit more via a makeup session.

Pairing: Gender Neutral Reader x Scare Actor Hobie Brown

Warnings: Fluff. Gwen makes an appearance because I love her. British slang that may or may not be bad but I’m British and hoping it’s the second one. I’m not confident in this but it took me a month to write so take it my brain’s dying. Maybe abrupt ending? Like I said my brain’s dying. Comedy too (I guess? I hope you laugh.) 2nd Person POV with no Y/N. Hobie has fans. Hobie’s also a little less flirty this time. One (1) single mention of Pavitr because I also love him. Not a warning just wanted to say I love him.

Words: 1.3k

@miseries-mistress

An hour later, your mind’s sole focus was Hobie. You couldn’t think about anything other than Hobie, his scary makeup, his cool clothes, and the fact that you were standing right outside his break room.

“You can’t go in there,” the man standing outside raised a hand to stop you. “It’s for staff only.”

“I’m meeting my friend in there,” you protested, hands fidgeting with the ring said friend had given you, before quickly adding, “And he works here.”

The man only snorted in amusement. “Yeah, good try.”

You blinked a few times, frustration welling up inside you. Squinting at the man’s name tag, you tried to reason with him, “No, Greg, I’m telling the truth. His name’s Hobie and he—“

Before you could finish your sentence, the door to the break room opened, and the person you were talking about poked his head out.

“Ah, there you are,” Hobie chuckled. He grabbed your shoulder and tried to pull you into the room, but Greg stopped him.

“You know that’s not allowed.”

Hobie struggled to hide an eye roll. “Mate, come on, just do me a favor.”

Greg pursed his lips, sighing. “If I get in trouble—“

“You won’t. Promise,” Hobie said, and then he pulled you inside the break room.

Songs with a spooky theme played quietly, used as background noise whilst people chattered. Most were in scary costumes and the few that weren’t were in the process of getting ready.

Lights lined the ceiling, glowing red. There was a table pushed to the side and piled full of foods and drinks. A crowd gathered around it, playing a game of tossing bloody red popcorn into each other’s mouths.

The mood was light-hearted and joyful, despite the creepy decorations in the room.

Wrapping his arm around your shoulder, Hobie kept you pressed against his side as he navigated the room. You were glad for it. You were never scared of anything but you had to admit that all of these strangers in scary costumes were intimidating.

“Greg’s so bloody uptight,” Hobie scoffed. Then, he tilted his head to one side as he thought for a moment, “But he’s alright most of the time, and he keeps the creeps away.”

You arrived at what you assumed was Hobie’s space. It was a desk stained with paint and makeup, a mirror hung on the wall with bright lights around it. The desk was messy, rubbish strewn all over and makeup containers opened like he left in a rush.

“So, this is where the magic happens,” You grinned.

“Oh, oops,” was all Hobie said as he grabbed handfuls of the rubbish and tossed them in the bin.

You watched Hobie as he did so, studying the way his brow furrowed and his makeup creased. He was a unique individual, you had to admit. You’d never met anyone as confident or as fascinating as him; you barely knew the guy and yet here you were in his dressing room, wanting to know more about him. Hobie certainly stood out from the crowd and you didn’t understand why, but he had an energy about him that made you smile. Oh, and he was obviously hot as hell.

“You got a starin’ problem, love?”

“What?” His words shook you out of your trance and you found him looking at you, “Oh, no, your makeup’s just really nice.”

“Want me to do yours?” He asked.

“That’d be cool,” You admitted, eager to be turned into something frightening—and to feel his touch.

Smirking, Hobie grabbed you by your shoulders and sat you down on a nearby chair. One hand rested gently on you whilst the other grabbed products and applied them.

“So, how long have you been a scare actor?” You attempted to make conversation.

“Only about six months,” Hobie replied as he spread some sort of primer over your face, “I wasn’t arsed about it at first but my mate was really into it and didn’t want to do it on her own, so ‘ere I am. And it’s fun make people jump, innit?”

“I’m usually the one jumping,” You responded.

Hobie shook his head, “Nah, no way. You’re tough as nails. Your friend, though—their screams might’ve fucked up my ears.”

You laughed, “The whole reason I’m here is because of them, actually. You know, to make them less scared.”

“Where are they?” Hobie questioned, “Did they get too scared and went home?”

“No, no, they become obsessed with the skull cotton candy that’s here,” You chuckled, “I physically couldn’t drag them away from the stall.”

“Hell yeah, that stuff’s great, I always have it when I’m Hank Marvin,“ Hobie smirked.

“When you’re what?”

“Starving,” Hobie laughed when you stared at him like he’d grown two heads. Then, he did a double-take at his desk when he tried to grab another makeup product, “Where the hell—“

“Looking for something?” A younger kid—a girl with blue and pink tips in her hair—appeared out of nowhere and held out some colourful eyeliner.

“That’s mine, you plonker,” Hobie said as he ruffled the girl’s hair. Then, he uncapped the eyeliner and cupped the kid’s face, bringing her closer, “Hang on, Gwendy, you’ve mucked it up, mate.”

With a few quick strokes, Hobie fixed her eyeliner while she stared at you with wide eyes.

“Is this one of your groupies?”

“I’m not a groupie,” You said, unable to hide the annoyance in your tone.

“They’re a friend,” Hobie said and your heart warmed. He scoffed in response to the kid’s question, as irritated as you. Though it quickly melted away and he affectionately patted the kid’s shoulder, addressing you, “This is Gwen.”

“Nice to meet you,” You offered her your hand after telling her your name, but she ducked away from it.

“I’m messy, sorry,” Gwen said before grabbing a packet of wipes out of the mess on Hobie’s desk and scrubbing their hands with it.

“Those are mine when you’re done,” Hobie scoffed—though it was full of endearment. He clearly adored the kid and vice versa.

Even though Gwen’s costume was spider-like, it had many similarities to Hobie’s. The most striking ones were that they had the same makeup and Gwen was wearing a shirt that was clearly created by Hobie.

As Hobie continued to do your makeup, applying some eyeliner on you, he wrinkled his nose, “I don’t have groupies, Gwendy.”

“Tell that to the people who edit you on TikTok,” Gwen replied teasingly as she swept some makeup to the side and sat down on his dressing table.

“I would but that app is a piece of shit that destroys your attention span. I’ve told you that a million times, mate,” Hobie grumbled, “I don’t have it for a reason.”

“Wait, are you guys serious? People make edits of you?” Your eyebrows shot up and Hobie pushed them down with his fingers before continuing with your eyeliner.

Gwen nodded, “Yeah, people go crazy over him. His hashtag has, like, thousands of views.”

“Wait, seriously? Like, genuinely? Actually?” You found it hard to believe. Not because Hobie wasn’t worth it, he absolutely was; he was attractive and charming. It was because you hadn’t come across any of these edits.

“Yeah, and it’s bloody weird. They don’t even know me, and they pick the worst music known to mankind. They’re out of their goddamn minds if they think I’d like MSI.” Hobie groaned before turning to Gwen, “You and Pav need to stop sending me those edits. I already said I don’t wanna see ‘em.”

“You should be glad you can’t see the comments.” Gwen grinned.

“Wait, hang on, I wanna see this—” You began to say but she cut you off.

“You really, really don’t. The comments are the worst part. But the attention’s good for business, though,” Gwen pointed out.

“Yet my wage is still the same,” Hobie grumbled before stepping back from you and gesturing to the mirror, “Have a look, mate.”

Gwen shuffled out of the way so you could see yourself properly—and you broke out into a grin. You were wearing the same makeup as Hobie, matching with both him and Gwen.

Hobie clapped you on the back as Gwen grinned at you, “You’re one of us now.”

And you definitely felt like it.

[twisted-lover-boys]

hello! Loved your Headcanon for my request! ❤ And thank you for providing me a new artist to follow their worked didn't even knew that it existed but overall I hope you have a wonderful day and great Life that's all!

ah also If you're still taking requests May I asked if you can do a brother rook reader fic?(if you're comfortable you can do headcanon or whatever you think suitable) where the reader just mischievous and tricked the 1st year since they didn't know rook has brother better yet attending the school, thinking his the real rook because of his unique power being available to copy anyone by appearances or their voice you can decide what happened in the end

I think I’ve said this before but I’m not a huge fan of the “reader is [blank] sibling” type of writing but, since I like Rook’s character, I’ll do it

Also, you didn’t really ask for anything specific so I’m just gonna make this a special event

{not proof-read}

✨✨✨✨

==================================

I feel like being on of Rook’s siblings is pretty chaotic since he’s the youngest of 7?? I think??? I don’t remember, it was mentioned in book 7. So now adding you, making you know the youngest of 8 feels even more chaotic

It’s canon that his older siblings like to travel a lot and aren’t normally home all the time so you were mostly raised by your parents + Rook. And don’t worry, they took extremely good care of you

You ended up being more mischievous than your other siblings and often got into trouble with your little pranks. You never went too far as you didn’t want to hurt any of your siblings

They eventually learned how to avoid your pranks but Rook was the quickest. Guess that’s why you both make such a dangerous pair

Let’s say that you’re a first year in Pomefiore, so about 2 years younger than Rook so it was almost too easy to prank others with your unique magic

Speaking on that, having the ability to copy anyone’s voice or appearance is pretty cool but, since we don’t want any over powered magic, let’s say there’s a time limit and you can only copy one person at a time and you can only copy the last person you touched

But, let’s be honest here, being able to copy your bother seems badass because of how notorious Rook is for “hunting” other students. You walking down a hall could easily push students out of your way

Anyway, planking your freshmen friends as different people is definitely funny. They don’t know who you’ll copy next and usually end up second guessing which has gotten them I’m trouble before

To be fair, you’ve probably been reprimanded by the other dorm leaders + your own and Rook as to why doing such things is dangerous. Eventually, you did stop and just ended up cloning your friends and copying their movements and voices. It was much funnier

That’s the pranking aspect of it. When it comes to battles/practical usage, it’s super helpful. You could easily blend into a crowd and escape detection or even divert attention. It’s super good for spy work, imo

Your freshmen friends did end up getting used to your jokes and would even try and prank you back, especially Ace. It was honestly just a bunch of fun

Or even doing funny impressions of them or others can get them riled up, especially if you do it in a satirical way. Just don’t tell Vil you copied him and made him say that he likes Neige…

==================================

[miyhhowrites]

Fhdjdjfhdj I like your writing. Like a lot. So I’m gonna rq something else (plus you’ve not had any others). So can I pls have Rui, honami and shizuku x reader that collects loads of stuff like books and shells and things? Ty <333

Collection📔🐚

A/N: hihihi! Thank you so much for requesting again, and i appreciate the compliment🩷sorry if this took too long.. please enjoy🍮

Shizuku hinomori

shizuku didnt find anything weird about you being a collector, infact shes just like you! Except she collects completely useless items that remind her of you or her friends, shes very supportive of your habbit and if you dont have much space to place your books she would gladly tell you that you can place some of your things in her home

"Y/n its okay.. ah! How about this.. you can put some of your things in my room! Me and shii will take good care of it" she promises, if she does end up ruining your collection such as losing a shell or a book page tore apart she would be very very stressed

"Aahh!! I-i..i only meant to look at it! Oh y/n dear im so sorry! Will you ever forgive me..?" She asks, you noticed how her eyes were getting wetter and wetter, you told her that everything was perfectly fine and people make mistakes.. thankfully shizuku calmed down a bit "ah.. okay.. thanks dear.. i promise to not do it again.!"

She was a very good listener, would always listen to your chatters and even ask a question or two "thats so cool! What happened next?"

in the end she would take care of the items you collected and treat it as a person, she would clean them and treat them with great care!

Rui kamishiro

Would never judge you for your habit, he would even encourage you by buying you more books or going to the beach just to pick up some shells or other knick knacks

When he enters your room for the first time and sees the bookshelf he was clearly surprised and even stared for a second, he would ask too many questions and if youre cool with it, he would try and take one of your books, to see if you noticed..

He would also give you stuff that reminds him if you, whether its a book, plushie anything, if it resembles you hes show it off

"y/n dear! I saw this book at the library and i think you might like it, wanna read it today?" He asks, even if you declined his offer you would still end up reading the book he purchased

If you're cool with it, rui would put mini doodles behind your books, sometimes it would be a heart, a doodle of both of you or sometimes a drawing of a wee wee..

Because of your habit, he also starts collecting stuff, stuff that reminds him of you or his friends, he also admits that its very fun to collect things!

Honami mochizuki

Homami also collects things just like you, except the things she collects are like going through a memory lane

If she spots you picking some shells at the beach she'll gladly help you out, if she sees a book that has your favorite genre (ex; horror, fiction, etc..) she'll borrow the book and would give it to you as a present

When you finally show her your collection, she looks very surprised, she would grab a shell and would ask a question about it. She's a very patient person so if you talk about your collection she'll listen very closely

She sees how happy you are about your collection, so she decides to why not try it? She was very glad she did because its a very fun hobby indeed! Sometimes the things she collected was given to you<3

[whirlwindimagines]

Hello! I hope You’re doing well

I was just wondering if i could request for a Wolfwood x gnreader who carries around a scythe and is called the reaper just like how Nicolas carries around a cross and goes by the name punisher?

I think that’d be cool :)) you don’t have to write it if you don’t want! I hope you are well and hydrated!! And that you take your time<33

Aww thanks for the kind words! I had no idea where this story was going, I just get an idea and run with it lol hope you enjoy! Also I’m like this will be short :) 1300 words later lol Also first time writing for Wolfwood so apologies

‘Fate’

Nicholas D. Wolfwood x Reader

You’ve decided three was becoming your favorite number because that’s how many times it took to intertwine your fate with the punisher. You’ve always gone through life with a sense of survival, it’s how you ended up here. Bounty hunting, only taking in targets dead, they call you ‘Reaper’ nothing but an angel of death in their eyes.

It was cruel work, but if someone wanted someone dead, or found dead you’d do it for the right price. It’s how you survived in this harsh world and you are fine with the routine of it. Until your routine was tossed to the side.

The first time had been quick, an annoyance more than anything else. You’ve been tracking your target for days, and you had finally cornered them outside of some backwater town. Scythe in hand ready to strike, the target was begging they always begged you hated this part. The nighttime air filled with the sound of crying until a gunshot rang out.

You dodged to the side unsure where the bullet had come from or where it would land. The night went still, you glanced at your target hoping they wouldn’t take this as a chance to run only to discover where the bullet ended up. Right through your target's head. 

You whipped around raising your weapon, only to come face to face with a man. He was holding a giant gun in the shape of a cross. Your blood ran cold, but you held your ground. 

“You asshole! He was mine.” 

“Relax you can have the bounty I just need proof.” He stepped closer, lighting a cigarette at the same time, his tone was casual. You stepped to the side letting him pass, you knew who he was. This wasn’t a fight you could win, so you would let him do what he needed and you’d collect the bounty.

“You’re not a ghost then, Punisher.” You don’t know why you felt the need to say it, your eyes glanced over him. He must have finished, whatever he did you didn’t want to know. He stood facing you and took a long drag of the cigarette “You’re not one either then, Reaper.”  

The two of you left it at that, you turned in the bounty, got the money, and didn’t think about it again. It was an odd night; one you’d just want to forget. 

The second time was confusing but somewhat enjoyable. You had a long day, you wanted nothing more than to just drink the night away. You found the closest bar to you and planned to hunker down for the night. People always gave space the moment they saw your weapon, and you don’t fuck with me attitude you were set.

What you didn’t expect was for someone to sit down right beside you at the bar. Annoyed you turned to the stranger, he was already looking at you with a smirk and a cigarette between his lips.

“Reaper”

“Punisher” 

You didn’t like being sought out like this; you were very unsure what he wanted from you. He orders a drink and then orders you one. “First rounds on me.” He said clinking his drink to yours. You downed the drink, “What do you want?” You figured you’d just get straight to the point nobody just sought you out for a drink. 

“What can’t drink with a friend?” You frowned at the tone, casual and that sly look on his face. You huffed looking down at your empty glass, “We’re not friends.” 

“Ah but we could be, I think we could help each other out.” There it was, people always wanted something from you. You knew not to get involved with this man; he was dangerous you were to hit you weren’t suicidal.  “No thanks.” You stood grabbing your weapon and preparing to leave until he grabbed your wrist, you glared at him. His hold was loose you could pull away if you really wanted to but you were in a trance at his dark gaze. 

“Hear me out first Reaper, I’m just looking for information if you can help me there, I’ll be out of your hair.” You sat back down, he let go of your hand and smirked. How annoying, he began to ask you a series of questions, he must be hunting someone you didn’t care to know the details of.  You answered honestly and he bought you another drink, you figured that was the end. It wasn’t. 

“It’s Nicholas D. Wolfwood by the way.” He lit another smoke; you watched eyes focused on his face. “Y/n l/n” you responded no one called you by your name anymore.  

You two spent the rest of the night talking, it was fun in the sense there were no expectations. He asked if he could hold your scythe you agreed, picking it up with one hand and passing it to him. You laughed when Wolfwood nearly dropped it, surprised at its weight.

“It’s heavy.” He said with a huff placing it back against the bar. 

“It’s supposed to be, isn’t it?” You said with a knowing look as you leaned your cheek on your hand to look at him. Taking lives came with a heavy toll, and you all had your crosses to bear, some heavier than most. Your heart raced when he met your gaze, you knew what could happen next so you needed to leave. 

Any sort of Attachment or comfort you didn’t deserve nor want to get into, you’d leave the Punisher here. Maybe next time you could be impulsive but not tonight. Well, a little impulse was okay, you leaned in by taking the cigarette from his lips and placing it between your own lips to take a drag. You stubbed it out on the bar top, leaning in once more to leave a kiss on his cheek. “See ya around.” 

You left him there and headed out into the dawn. 

The third was less than ideal, you were dying. Or you were going to die if you didn’t get up right now. It had been an ambush; you fell right for it and now you were going to bleed out on the desert floor.

You knew it would end like this eventually, staring up at the stars you felt some comfort. This was okay, it would be okay. You closed your eyes and accepted your fate. You didn’t know how long you were out; you were still alive but someone was shaking you and yelling. You couldn’t make out the words. You should’ve opened your eyes, but you were just so tired. You could hear the words ‘reaper’ over and over. 

Then another shout and more shaking, then the sound of your name, no one should know your name anymore. Forcing your eyes open, you came face to face with Wolfwood. He found you, how you didn’t know or care. Funny enough you felt safe, he was yelling at you again but you were too tired and closed your eyes again.

You awoke with a start in some dingy hotel room, you moved to stand up but your body protested the movements. Your wound was bandaged, how? What had even happened? Looking around the room you spotted your weapon right beside a familiar large cross.

“You lived.” Wolfwood stood at the doorway, arms crossed. “Guess I owe you my life then.” Your tone was light, but you were grateful just unsure to have to express it. “Thanks.” You whispered out he shrugged moving to the window to light a smoke. 

“Maybe you should stick around, it looks like your good at getting into trouble.” You rolled your eyes and laughed, “I think you just enjoy my company.”

“Maybe.” He answered, you laughed again laying down. Maybe surviving on your own was becoming too much, maybe with Wolfwood at your side you two could start living instead of surviving.

[silentcryracha]

That expression that he makes...actually all of them...do we have any thoughts? Bc I sure do damn 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

https://64.media.tumblr.com/1c7ec4fe58d131ed00a37843d5ec9f00/bc6df3da9159a617-98/s400x600/67b76cf1180be378ab41899538e3cb7b663e28c3.gif

The link to the gif is this one 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

Oh nonnie, do I have any thoughts? My mind is FULL of thoughts actually. Got a small drabble idea so I'll write around it!

Warnings: definitely suggestive but nothing happens

Word Count: 839

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Imagine you're watching your own reflection in the full length mirror, as you fixed your dress and hair. Twirling around and arching your feet to mimick the heels effect as you looked over your shoulder.

Then again, as you were applying lipstick to your plump lips your gaze moved from your face to the space behind you. Your eyes met with Hyunjin's ones, who have been watching your every move for the past five minutes.

'Am I entertaining?' you teased, closing the lipstick up and fixing the edges of your make up with your fingers delicately.

Hyunjin detached from the wall he was leaning against and slowly walked up behind you, his arms wrapping around your hips, pulling you flush against his chest.

You stood up straight, so that now his mouth was at the same level as your right ear.

'I don't find lipstick or hair entertainment per se' he spoke as he left a kiss on your exposed neck, 'But I do find them attractive. On you, specifically.' he continued, as you wickedly bit your lip, both to not chuckle or moan.

'Ah really?' you responded, one hand cupping his face while the other dangerously toyed with the leather belt on his pants. 'What do you think about the color, though? Isn't it too bright?' you continued, keeping it cool.

Hyunjin couldn't be less bothered about the color on your lips at that moment. He was nuzzling his nose in your hair, alternating languid kisses on your neck and exposed shoulder. As if your scent mixed with shampoo and expensive perfume wasn't already enough to make him go crazy, your hands wandering were making it worse.

And by 'it' it meant him getting hard as a rock when instead you two should be on your way to one of his best friend's wedding rehearsal dinner.

'Mmh, dunno' he murmured, still concentrated in abusing your neck. In the meantime, his arms, which were previously hugging you, were now back at his sides, with his hands stroking up and down your hips and thighs, effectively moving around the hem of the dress.

'Mmh' you hummed, purposefully more sensually than it was needed, 'I'm not sure either. Maybe I should try on another one' you took one of his hands, and for a moment he looked up confused, until he saw where your own hand was leading his.

And just like that his index finger was in his mouth, your soft and wet tongue teasing it. Hyunjin audibly gulped, afraid that he might've lost the plot, because weren't you talking about fucking lipsticks and colors like two seconds ago?

'My love wha- ' but you interrupted him before he could finish with his stutter, removing his finger from your mouth and with him a big amount of lipstick, too.

'I thought you would've liked to help me take it off' you turned around, facing him. Your eyes pierced into each other's, mouths so close you could feel each other's hot breathing.

Hyunjin's eyes looked dazed, like he couldn't properly function from how horny he was in that moment, which made you chuckle teasingly.

'If you wanted me to smear that goddamn lipstick off of you you should've just said it, my love' he smirked breathlessly, both his hands coming up to rest on the sides of your face, his fingers sliding into your hair.

But just as he was about to kiss you, a loud knock on the door made you both jump.

'Hwang Hyunjin now it's not the time to fuck, we're gonna be late and the bride is gonna kill us' you heard Minho yell from outside the door, a few snickers joining in, which you assumed to be Seungmin and Jisung.

'Shut the fuck up Lee Minho, we're ready'

Hyunjin had a dramatically annoyed expression on his face, that slowly turned into laughter as soon as you started, first. You stepped back from him, still laughing as you reapplied correctly the bit of lipstick that got smeared.

'Guess this one's gonna have to do' you say out loud as you reach to pick up your purse and him his elegant jacket. Hyunjin was shifting uncomfortably, trying to adjust his pants which had become a little tight in the last couple of minutes.

You brought a hand to your mouth, trying not to laugh. He looked up, giving you a side eye but also secretly trying to suppress his own laughter.

'I'm sorry baby, do you need a moment?' you caress his back as he stands up straight, clearing his throat and huffing. He was at the very least thankful that Minho had interrupted them before he could get fully hard, then he'd have a real problem.

'Yeah no, it's gonna be fine. The frustration, cold and walk down to the car are hopefully gonna do their job.' he joked, masterfully holding the jacket just above the 'interested' zone in a casual way.

'It's my fault for teasing, I'll make it up to you when we get back'

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

All this from a gif, lord help me-

[dappledpaintbrush]

Dimentio gets an ulcer: the fanfic. alternate title: King Boo’s inevitable return (more content for A Jester’s Lament) (don’t take my writing seriously here this is just for fun and kinda a shitpost) (also not necessarily canon) (not at the moment anyways) (I haven’t decided) (also spoilers for the entire fic)

also ignore my recent posts with my second dimentio design. for simplicity’s sake, his original AJL design is what we’re working with

(Part one btw)

—————

Dimentio scanned his writings as his eyes narrowed to a squint. “No, no,” he mumbled under his breath as he erased a word, replacing it with its more dignified counterpart. He paused once more, wondering if the extravagant word choice made him sound pretentious. He decided to keep it as it was.

It had been close to a year since King Boo fell to the Pure Hearts, and Dimentio still had yet to finish his collection of tales and spells. He wasn’t even done interviewing the Pixls, and he still had his own thousands of years worth of experience to put into words. If he wasn’t babysitting the Koopalings or visiting friends, he was writing. Writing, writing, writing, from when he saluted the sun till when he bowed to the moon. Sometimes he would even forget to eat or drink. At least, that’s what he told himself to keep things simple. He was keenly aware of his conscious ignorance of his body’s cries for help, just so he could get a few more paragraphs down on the pages.

“Dimentio!”

Despite himself, Dimentio was brought out of his hypnosis. Suddenly becoming aware of the pain in his hands, he lifted his head as Carrie was now fluttering over him. Boomer, who had been sleeping on the Ancient’s shoulder, suddenly buzzed and spun in circles in a frightened daze. Dimentio’s attention shifted to him for a moment, then back to Carrie. “What are you…” He peered at what the Pixl was holding above his head. Dimentio stood, stirring up the other Pixls resting nearby as if they were fireflies in a twilight field. “Is that my mail?”

“Uh, yes. I wasn’t snooping in your mailbox or anything!” Carrie quickly defended himself as Dimentio took the envelope in hand. “The mailman was dropping it off, and I was like, ‘Oh, don’t worry, I’ll take it,’ and-“

Dimentio raised a hand, silencing the Pixl’s anxious rambles as he mumbled, “It’s fine, Carrie.” His focus drifted back onto the letter. He pinched the corner, ripping it along the top not as delicately as he would have preferred.

“Ooo, the Princess!” Thudley announced, having immediately noticed the, Sincerely, Princess Peach, near the bottom of the letter. “It must be important!”

Dimentio looked around him, having been obvious to the Pixls crowding together by his head. “Weird. Usually they just text me. Ah, I must be climbing up in the ranks,” he half-joked under his breath. “Dear Dimentio, blah blah blah, blah blah blah… Mario Kart?”

“Oh, wow!” Carrie sprung up again. “Did they invite you to race?”

“Good Grambi, I hope not.” He held the note closer to his eyes. “Nope.” A strange disappointment fell upon him. I must not be as special as I previously assumed.

“Well, then what’s it for?”

“I’m getting there,” he assured Carrie, beginning to pace around his Flopside home. “Nothing-nothing-nothing, whole bunch of nothing, blah blah blah.” He recalled his eager Pixl audience, clarifying, “It’s a sort of annual race, and, uh…” He looked at the letter one more time before folding it back up and tossing it onto his bed. “I have received some sort of VIP invitation to come watch.”

“That’s so cool!” Carrie bounced up and down.

“Aren’t you excited?” Dimentio heard Piccolo ask as he opened his closet, the door creating a barrier between him and the Pixls.

“Frankly? Yes, I am.” He chuckled a little bit at the thought of it as he slipped his more formal attire off the hanger to change into. “Damnit,” he began to laugh a few moments later as he began to button up his long-sleeved black shirt.

“What’s so funny?” he recognized Slim’s voice.

“I’m just”—he snickered once more—“imagining it. All of them on their stupid little Go-Karts. Bowser, too, hah! I mean, I get it,” he clarified as he tied the strings of his pants. “I get why it’s such a huge event, but still.” He walked back into view, boots in his hand as he sat on his bed. “They have to be at least a little self aware at how… silly it all looks. I don’t know. Maybe I’m just too old for this kind of stuff.”

“Sheesh, maybe you are.”

“Hey now.” He eyed Carrie. Dimentio finished lacing his dark boots and lifted himself off the bed, staring at himself in the mirror. Long gone was his flashy purple and yellow cape and his diamond-tipped cap. Over his shirt draped a dark cloak that fell down to his thighs, and a hood obscured his face with a similar darkness. Even then, Dimentio still raised his hands to tie a dark cloth around the lower half of his face, sparing only his eyes, and even they were half-blind. He knew there was nothing he could do to hide himself while he remained on the mortal plane. Everywhere he went, there was a shiver up one’s spine that followed. He was an ominous sin, an uncanny evil. Blending in with the shadow he brought with him was the least he figured he could do. But they still knew. They all did. As if it were instinct. Everyone, dead and alive, always knew when Dimentio was near.

And now, he was torn between disappointing his friends by dismissing their invitation and disappointing the world with his presence. I should be used to not ever being able to win. Dimentio shook his head at the sinister thought, disrupting the mask. Thoughts come and go. Let them come and go. Let them come and go.

“Is the race today?” Thoreau flew next to his head as Dimentio adjusted his cloth-mask.

“Tomorrow, but Peach invited us to the Castle. I assume it’s an ‘us’ at least,” he referred to Mimi, O’Chunks, and Nastasia. It had been over a month since he had seen any of them in person. He found himself more eager at that aspect than the race itself. Dimentio peered closer at the dark circles beneath his eyes, their existence unknown to him before that moment. Like the fool that he was, he proceeded to smudge them like that was going to help. “As always, you all can come with me, stay, or go.” He adjusted his collar in the mirror one final time. “I’ll return in a few days. Ciao.” Without another word, Dimentio snapped his fingers, a black box forming and closing in on him as quickly as it appeared.

A toad screeched in fright when Dimentio abruptly appeared. Whether it was due to Dimentio himself or his unexpected arrival, it was anyone’s best guess. “Sorry!” The guard cleared his throat as he stood up tall. Well, as tall as he could. “Welcome to the Mushroom Castle, Dimentio. Not…” Dimentio looked at him, and the toad fearfully shrunk down. “Not that you haven’t been here before.”

Dimentio averted his gaze. He could live for another millennia, and his damage could never truly be undone. “Who is all here?”

“Oh, uh, let me think. Her Majesty, for sure. Mario, Luigi,-“

“Dimentio! Hey!”

He peeked behind his shoulder to see Mimi entering the corridor, her arm stretched high above her head. She vanished within a heartbeat, appearing directly in front of him. Dimentio gasped out of fright, then gasped for air as she wrapped her arms around him and squeezed as tight as she could. She acted as if it had been years since they had seen each other, but it was charming in a way. “It’s so good to see you!” she greeted, hugging him every tighter.

“Is that so?” He wiggled an arm free to pull his cloth-mask down.

She pulled back, gawking at him. “You bitch, you’re supposed to say you missed me too!” Dimentio laughed in response to the playful shove on his shoulder. Before he could respond, Mimi took his chance, “Hey, come out to the cloisters with me.” She took his hand, teleporting the pair to a lounge area just before the Castle's garden. “Fuck,” she expressed to them all. “I should’ve sent a warning first.”

“I hate you.”

“Aw, Dimentio, you came!” Princess Peach interrupted him, her hands folded on her chest. “I’m so happy you could make it. I think you’re going to love it. Mario Kart, that is.”

“Haha, ‘ere he is!” O’Chunks chuckled, gesturing towards Dimentio with his finger.

“Hey, Dim,” Luigi simply said with a smile and a wave of his gloved hand.

Dimentio smiled at them both. “Hello, O’Chunks. Luigi.” He then directed his attention back to Peach. “I appreciate the invite, Princess.” His body moved forwards ever so slightly in an instinctive bow. A breeze then hit him, and he shuddered ever so slightly. He still felt so vulnerable going out in public without his cloak. Not the cloak he currently had on, his cloak. Nothing could ever replace his cloak. He pushed his thoughts aside, or at least tried to, then succeeded to actually push his wind-disrupted hair out of his eyes as he sat down in an unoccupied chair. “Who’s all racing?”

“Everybody, I think. Oh, wait, I forgot, you’re new to this. Heh, sorry.” A smile formed under Luigi’s mustache. “Well, there’s the Princess, Mario.” He gestured a gloved hand to them both. “Anyone who’s on the usual roster. Oh yeah, me too. And Mimi wanted to race, but it’s so hard to get new people onto the track.”

“Isn’t it literally called Mario Kart?” Dimentio crossed one leg over the other. “Why is it difficult?”

Mario chimed in, “It’s more so just simply named after me. I don’t really run it. Those who do, the higher-ups, they’re very strict. Something about getting new karts, altering schedules, training new racers, so on, so forth. You have to tell them months in advance for them to even acknowledge your request. Did you want to race?”

Dimentio scoffed. “Hell no.”

“How can you not?” Mimi gawked at him. “It looks super fun!”

“‘Looks,’ Mimi. It ‘looks’ fun. You try racing over a hundred miles per hour inside a volcano or something of the sort while getting pelted by shells, lightning, bombs,-“

“That’s the fun part! Geez, when did you get so uptight?”

Dimentio raised his eyebrows. “Do you not know me at all?”

“Gosh, see? This is what happens when you stop all the evil stuff cold turkey. Oh no, Mimi, I don’t want to race inside a volcano, that sounds boring! I’m going to go drink some tea and stare whimsically at the sunset for a few hours. Ooo! Maybe tomorrow I’ll drink a different flavor of tea. My, isn’t that scandalous? Wake up a little!” She reached over and shook him by the shoulders, interrupting Dimentio’s humiliated rubbing of his eyes so he wouldn't have to look at anybody. “You’re as bad as Aldus was.”

“Aldus had a few sins under his belt, don’t underestimate that.” Dimentio resumed rubbing his eyes.

“Oh, yeah, races!” When Mimi abruptly changed the subject, Dimentio lifted his head, spying Luigi quickly pretend like wasn’t staring. “What are the tracks this year?”

Peach, Luigi, nor Mario would know the answer to her question. The “higher-ups” had yet to release the roster and track list. The group conversed some more, all while Dimentio couldn’t fully cower away from the spotlight that had been put on him. He knew he had no right to feel the way he did. He wasn’t the victim of his own hand. And yet, there he was: feeling. Were they still afraid of him? The more he pondered it, the more he felt like it would be strange if they weren’t. Foolish, too. Not because he was ever going to do anything of his former nature again, but because they couldn’t prove he wasn’t.

Dimentio trekked the halls of the Mushroom Castle, not relishing in the days where he was being chased by a deranged, unstoppable feline down the chasms of blood and broken glass. He passed multiple other rooms before getting to his, a place he hadn’t been to since he was first introduced to it over a year ago. As he opened the door, the golden light spilled from the slivers in his curtains to his boots. He narrowed his eyes as something on the desk caught his attention. Letting gravity pull the door close, he stepped towards the unknown book, picking it up and blowing the dust off.

“It’s a spell book.”

Dimentio gasped and twisted his head over his shoulder, spying a door that had not closed after all and a familiar plumber standing in the entrance.

Luigi’s eyebrows furrowed. “I’m sorry.”

“No,” Dimentio quickly reassured. “No, don’t be. You didn’t do anything wrong.” He glanced at the book once more, then lifted his eyes back to Luigi. “Did you get this for me?”

“Yes. No. I mean,” Luigi cleared his throat. “I borrowed it from Merlon, and I got done reading it a while back, and I asked him if I could let you borrow it, so… Yeah, I didn’t necessarily get it for you, since it still belongs to Merlon, b-but whatever. You know what I mean.”

“I do.” Dimentio smiled slightly to ease Luigi’s clear anxiety. He stared at the title, written in the dead language of the Ancients. ‘Ancient Magic for Dummies.”

“Does it actually say that?”

“No, Monsieur, no, it doesn’t,” Dimentio chuckled quietly, and Luigi soon followed. He stepped into the room as Dimentio peered back at the cover. “I’m not too fluent. This language was practically extinct by the time I was born, surprisingly enough. See this?” He held the book out to Luigi and pointed to a word. “I know what that word means, but it doesn’t have a true English translation.”

Luigi nodded, interested. “What is your best guess?”

Dimentio’s eyes rose to the ceiling. “I believe… I am being humbled.” Luigi laughed lightheartedly as Dimentio scrambled for a word. “Enchiridion, perhaps.”

“Is this still English, my friend?”

“Guide. Manual. Instructions.”

Luigi thought for a moment. “So, my best guess is that it technically says, ‘A Guide to Ancient Magic.’”

“No.”

“But technically?”

Dimentio’s one working pupil flicked from the book to Luigi, who had a smug smile and was clearly trying not to laugh. “Sure.”

“Mhm.” He teasingly nodded with a quiet chuckle.

“Sure, I guess it technically says that.”

“And you say you aren’t fluent.”

“My relationship with language is complicated!” he spoke above Luigi’s increasing laughter. Dimentio couldn’t help but crack a smile as he flipped through the book, eventually landing on a preserved passage written in the dead script. “Ah! I know this one.” He garnered Luigi’s attention, who watched him point his finger to a word on the page and translate aloud, “The.” Silence filled the room. Dimentio dipped his head. “Je t’en prie.”

They shared hushed laughter once more. “How long has it been sitting there?” Dimentio finally asked.

“Oh, not long. Couple of months.” When Dimentio eyed him, Luigi muttered, “A year.”

Dimentio looked back at the book, flipping through the pages. While powerful in his spells, Dimentio was likely the dumbest, most pathetic Ancient to ever exist. While there was his dimension-creating spell, Dimentio never finished his apprenticeship, and it was rare he indulged in self-taught lessons throughout his centuries of life. This book was likely the answer to learning all he never got to learn. But even then, he was sure most spells would be lost to time.

‘Year,’ echoed in his head. “This is my fault. I’m sorry.”

“Dimentio-“

“Mimi was right. I do spend most of my time doing nothing. I haven’t spent as much time as I should’ve with any of you since the Odyssey trip. Especially you.” Silence took his place, then Dimentio interrupted it, “It’s not that I don’t care. I do, it’s just… I’m afraid I don’t know.” You do.

“Dimentio.” He took note of the plumber’s hand on his shoulder. In that second, dozens of battles flashed before Dimentio’s eyes. “It’s okay. It really is. I know you care, we all do. I… I get it.”

Neither of them had to explain it. Even if they wanted to say it aloud, they likely couldn’t.

“But hey, you’re here now. I am. They are.” Luigi pointed to the open door. “We’ll be here for about fifty more years on top of that. If we don’t fix it now, we have more than enough time to do so.”

“Fifty years is a second for me, Monsieur, you know that right?” Dimentio instantly regretted his negative words. Luigi was just trying to help him, like always. He was well aware of Dimentio’s statement, too. “Hell, who knows.” He popped his neck as he interrupted himself, as if it could cut off the statement already processed in Luigi’s mind. “You all just might outlive me.”

“God, I hope so,” Luigi smirked, and they both laughed again. Luigi took his phone out of his pocket after feeling its buzz. “Hey, look, they announced everything!” He rotated his phone screen to Dimentio, who caught glimpse of a message from her highness. “The tracks, who’s racing. Everyone’s in the living room. Let’s go check this shit out.” When Dimentio raised his hand to teleport them, Luigi motioned his head towards the door. “Come on, walk with me.” In protest, Dimentio levitated a few inches off the ground, then felt bad and lowered himself back down again. After being extra careful walking down the stairs, Dimentio was met with a turn of heads and a blaring television above them on the wall.

“Boooo,” Mimi called out, her thumb pointed upside down. Nevertheless, Dimentio sat down on the couch next to her.

“Have we missed anything?” Luigi asked as he sat next to Dimentio.

“Nope, nothing.” Mario shook his head.

“I am Lakitu, your host as always!” Dimentio finally paid attention to the yellow Koopa-like creature that was speaking on the television. “And oh boy, do we have some exciti news to share with you all! First, the tracks. What’s a race without its tracks, am I right? Hah! This year, we will be taking a trip down memory lane and return to our 2009 cups! That’s right! It’s all back! From Mushroom Gorge to Moonview Highway,-“

“Woohoo! Hell yeah!” Luigi jumped out of his seat, the applause from the three racers temporarily drowning out Lakitu’s announcements. Lakitu continued to list off the featured tracks from the 2009 cup, alongside bonus courses such as Berlin Byways, Dragon Driftway, and Electrodome.

“We can’t possibly do this all in one day,” Dimentio mumbled under his breath, unsure if his statement would make him sound like a complete idiot or not. He was only slightly confident in his understanding of kart racing.

“You fucking fat-headed orangutan,” Mimi began, and Dimentio sighed upon knowing it was all over for him. “It’s over several days.”

“Without further ado, let’s list off this year's selected racers!” Lakitu cleared his throat, then the green screen stationed behind him began to change. He listed the names off Luigi, Mario, Princess Peach, a randomly selected Toad, all you could expect, featured with their picture and their name written in big, bold letters. “Now, folks, we are onto the big, bad villains. But fret not! As you are all very well aware of, they have taken a solemn vow to keep their antics out of this race.” He adjusted the papers in his talons. “First off, we have Bowser! The evil, menacing King of the Koopas, you all know him! Next up, Kamek! The sly, magical, blue-clothed advisor of the Koopa King. Bowser Junior and the Koopalings are set to join us as well! Don’t let their size or age fool you, they are merciless on the karts.”

“What are they doing here?” Dimentio narrowed his eyes, his enthusiasm slipping. “This is far too treacherous for children!”

“Calm down, dude, they’re gonna be fine.”

“And how do you know that?” Dimentio turned his head to Mimi, who continued to face forwards without acknowledging him, a smug smirk on her face. He sighed, dragging his hand down his face. “I will have to initiate an intervention with their father.” Somewhere in the background, Mimi mocked him. “Right now.”

“Dimentio!” echoed around him, but he turned his attention to Luigi, who was adding, “You’re gonna miss the announcements!”

Dimentio stood and began to make his way to the back of the room. “Don’t pause it. It’s fine,” were his last words before he whisked into the hall, furiously teleporting a scarcely-used phone in his hands. “Bowser,” Dimentio briskly hissed when the ringing ceased.

“Hi!” Dimentio was immediately greeted by giggles and shrieks of laughter. His face fell. This was not Bowser.

“Junior.” Dimentio began to pace, clutching the arm that hoisted his phone with his free hand. “Where is your father?” Dimentio recognized Roy hooting in the background of the call.

“What’s the pth-password?!” Junior could barely get out the sentence before choking on his laughter. The silence that followed from Dimentio only made them erupt even more.

“There is no password.” The defeat in his voice was already present and impossible to ignore.

“Yes there is!”

”Come on, Dimentio, what’s the password?” Dimentio could practically see Wendy’s mischievous glare through the phone.

”Say it, say it, say it!” many began to chant unsynchronized.

Dimentio was a lot of things, a lot of nasty things, but he was no fool. There was only one thing they could be talking about. Dimentio glanced behind him at the corridor’s entrance, then, when no watchful eyes greeted him, breathed a deep and weary sigh. He took a double-take, then gritted his teeth together. “Balls.”

Dimentio ripped the phone from his ear as the detonated cackling threatened to deafen him. “He said it! He said it!” Larry yelled at the top of his lungs.

“Larry! Junior! All of you! Where is Bowser?! Why are you racing?! You should be in school! Lemmy, what’s nine times four?” As he expected, Dimentio’s queries were thoroughly and wholeheartedly ignored, unless the chorus of cackles was a language he didn’t know how to decipher.

After more screeches so loud that Dimentio’s phone speakers were moments away from being placed on life support, a singular thunder rose above the splattering rain. “Hey, hey! Give me that sh- Give me that!” a familiar rumble grew louder with each stomp. Junior’s cry of protest was audibly cut short as Bowser snatched the phone from his claws. “Who is this?”

“Dimentio!” Junior answered for him.

“He said balls!” Iggy screamed from below.

“Oh, y’all got him to say the password? Haha, nice. Hey, Dimentio. What’s up?”

“Bowser, I need to have a word with you about Mario Kart.”

“What about it? Roy, let go of my leg!”

“What is going through your thick skull to even ponder the possibility of letting the Koopalings race? They are children! I assumed it was common sense to not let young kids behind the wheel, especially with such dangerous speeds and unforgiving competitors-“

Bowser let out a loud, exaggerated, drawn-out snore that, for a moment, was loud enough to drown out the ramblings of the Koopalings. “Boring!” he bellowed into the phone. “Untwist your panties, Dimentio! Nothing is going to happen to them. They have their daddy’s genes!”

“That is precisely what I am worried about.”

“Geez, take a step back, won’t you? Dimentio, I’m grateful you babysit and all, but at the end of the day, I am their dad, and I know what’s best for them more than you do. Listen, if you’re gonna cry about it this much, I can at least promise you that nothing bad’s gonna happen. They’ve done this thousands of times! Ain’t that right, kids?!”

“Thousands?!”

“Dimentio.”

The voice caught him off guard, and he nearly hurt himself jerking his head back towards the entrance. There, Luigi stood, stiff, quiet, and hollow, yet so heavy. Casted in shadows, the whites of his eyes were almost like lanterns. He appeared to be unnaturally still, until the shaking of his hands became evident.

The call had become background noise. “I’ll be back,” he hastily murmured, then, with a snap of his fingers, the phone vanished. His heart stammering, Dimentio rushed forwards to Luigi, who refused to even flinch. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

“Dimentio…” he repeated, his frail voice somehow so sharp. Dimentio opened his mouth, yet he found himself speechless as well. He stood there, waiting, the fear fatally contagious.

At last, Luigi heaved a breath, his chest falling with an uneven shiver, and he rasped out a name Dimentio thought he would never hear in the present tense ever again.

[lumosandnoxwriting]

tis the damn season || Fred Weasley

Title: ‘tis the damn season Pairing: Fred x Reader Summary: and the only heart I’m breaking is my own Warnings: NSFW - mentions of vaginal sex. A/N: a muggle AU b/c something like this isn’t really plausible with the whole apparition thing and i love this song too much to not write a song inspired by it. I started this over a year ago and have just recently gotten back to it to finish! It didn’t quite end up the way I imagined it but i kinda just let the words take me where they wanted to go. Hope you enjoy!

He can’t remember the last time he was back.

His old life always feels so far away down in London. Like his memories of growing up in Ottery belong to someone else, and Fred’s just watching them on film. 

London is just so different. Busier in a way that Ottery never will be, with its barely populated town center and handful of businesses down Main Street. If you put the whole village together it would probably only span three blocks of London, including all the scant cottages that are just barely considered to be part of the village; the piece of land The Burrow is situated on included. 

The joke shop and his friends and life in general barely give him enough time to give Mum and Dad a call, let alone pop down for the weekend to visit. Not to mention retirement is treating the Weasley parriarchal well, allowing them to split their time between all of their children and the various parts of the world life has taken them. 

But it seems a grapple with nostalgia has led all of the Weasley children back to Ottery St. Catchpole this Christmas. Bill and Fleur took over the helm of hosting the family celebration years ago, when they decided traveling back to England with a baby was harder than hosting a slew of Weasleys at their cottage in the French countryside. So it caught Fred by surprise when his Mum called last month, letting him and George know not to bother booking a ticket to France, since they’d be doing Christmas the old fashioned way this year. 

At Molly’s request they’ve all taken the next two weeks off from work and made the trek back home, for one more Christmas at The Burrow. Fred would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little bit disappointed in the change of plans this year. He spent so much of his life trying to find a way out of Ottery, so driving back up here has left him with a weird feeling in the pit of his stomach. Which is why he left George at home as soon as they’d pulled in the driveway, needing to take a second for himself. 

He doesn’t realize he’s been sitting on a bench in town square, staring into the abyss until a quiet voice calls out to him. 

“Fred?”

Despite the time that’s gone by he’d recognize that voice anywhere. Y/N.

“Hey,” he greets casually, turning to look at her as he tries to pretend his heart hasn’t plummeted into his stomach. There’s a beanie pulled down tight over her hair and her cheeks are rosy from the cold, but she’s just as beautiful as the last time he saw her. It’d been right in this very place, he’d given her one last look through the rearview mirror as he and George left for good. 

Back then her face had been red from the tears she’d shed as he said goodbye, her eyebrows drawn together in frustration. The look on her face today is indifferent, and Fred can’t tell if he should be upset or relieved at that. 

“You’re home,” Y/N states, voice even. 

“Yeah,” Fred replies simply.

Their words hang in the air around them, both of them just looking at each other while they try and find something to say.

“Well, I’ll see you around, I guess. Unless you’re just stopping through?” Y/N asks, the tone of her voice curious, with just the barest hint of hope.

Fred nods, gesturing down the road with his hand. “Yeah, yeah, I’m in town for a bit. Staying at Mum and Dad’s for the holiday and all.”

“Ah, okay. Cool. Cool,” Y/N responds, rocking back and forth on her heels for a moment. “See you around, then.”

In the next second she’s gone, walking past Fred without a second glance back his way. 

Once Y/N has disappeared Fred heads back towards The Burrow, unable to tell exactly why that funny feeling is still there in the pit of his stomach.

-

“Freddie, Georgie! Long time no see, Lads!” 

The pub is loud, but somehow Dean’s voice overpowers it all and the boys easily find the table their old friends have commandeered for the evening. It’s tucked away in the corner, close enough to the bar that they’ll have no problem getting drink refills, but far enough away from the general rowdiness that they’ll be able to have a conversation without having to shout at each other. 

All the lads stand up as Fred and George approach, each one taking a turn to pull them each into a hug - as if no time has passed at all. Fred’s embarrassed to admit how long it’s been since he texted one of his old hometown friends, let alone sat down to catch up with them. It had been easier when they first moved to London, they were all young and carefree and it was normal for Fred and George’s living room to be taken over by the lads every few weeks for a Boy’s weekend in the big city. 

But as time went on Fred and George got busier, their dream had started to become a reality and investor meetings and paperwork became their priority. And it’s not like things only changed for them either. It seemed like one by one their friends started to find serious partners, and time with the boys started to take a backseat to time spent with their significant other. And now Fred and George are the only two of the group who aren’t married with a kid or two. 

“Look at our big London boys, taking time out of their busy ol’ schedules to slum it here up north with the rest of us,” Lee teases, toasting his beer to the boys before he takes a long drag. “We’re honored you could fit in some time to see us, truly.”

“You’re all a bunch of prats who don’t deserve our time,” George shoots back, winking as he drinks from the beer Tom had pressed into his palm. “And truly the honor is ours, I know changing diapers and feeding babies is important work and we appreciate you sacrificing your time to sit here at the pub with us.”

“You can laugh all you want now, boys - but just be ready to get it back tenfold once you degenerates decide to finally settle down and become family men,” Dean chuckles. 

Fred takes a long sip of his beer, letting the cool liquid run down his dry throat. Because sure there have been plenty of girls since Y/N. But they’ve all been short term, casual - some of them so brief he doesn’t remember their name or what they look like. There’s only one girl he’s ever imagined that kind of life with, and he’s sure that ship sailed the second he left town without her. 

“You boys ready for another round yet?”

Fred swears he must have done something epic to piss off whatever cosmic being exists out there, because for the second time today he’s blindsided by Y/N’s sudden appearance. He keeps his eyes downcast, suddenly super thirsty as he takes another long drink in order to avoid interacting with her again. 

“Do you even have to ask?” Lee answers with a hearty laugh. 

“Some things never change,” she responds with a lighthearted eye roll, collecting the empties from the table. “I’ll be right back with those.”

Fred finally looks up, his eyes following Y/N as she disappears back into the crowd. He feels like he can breathe again, and he finally sets his empty beer bottle back on the table. Their interaction earlier is still fresh in his mind and despite how uneasy their short interaction left him - he would be lying if he said he wasn’t hoping he’d run into Y/N again. He just didn’t imagine it would be so soon. 

“She teaches year one, over at the primary school.” Fred’s eyes meet Dean’s, his cheeks flushing at the realization he’d been caught. “All the kids love her. Daisy has her this year and I swear everyday when she gets home all she does is gush about Y/N. She works here on the weekends to help her Uncle out.”

Fred finds his eyes trailing back to where Y/N had disappeared to, hoping he might catch another glimpse of her. He’s happy to hear that she’s teaching, that him wrecking their plans of a future together didn’t deter her from following her other dreams. He looks back to Dean then, forcing a smile onto his face. 

“Daisy’s already in first year? You’re a proper old git aren’t ya, mate?” he teases in an effort to move the conversation in a direction that doesn’t involve the feeling of regret that’s suddenly started to creep up his throat. 

-

“Are you stalking me?”

Fred turns around at the sound of her voice, goosebumps shivering down his neck. He’d come down to the creek for some solitude, already getting tired of having his siblings and their families crammed into the Burrow after only three days. But of course, this had been their spot, so he’s not all too surprised that Y/N had found him here. 

“Are you sure you’re not stalking me?” he teases, breath catching in his throat at the smile that takes over her face. “I was here first, and I was at the town square first the other day too. Seems to me like I’m the one being followed.”

Y/N shakes her head with a quiet laugh, taking a few steps down the embankment so she’s closer to Fred. “And what about the other night at the pub, hm? What about then?”

“Happy accident,” Fred answers with a shrug, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “It’s not like there’s other pubs in the village to hang out at.” He can tell he struck a nerve based on the way Y/N’s eye twitches, and silence grows between them as his brain scrambles to think of something else to say.

“All those years in London and Ottery is still too small for you?”

There isn’t any anger or resentment in her voice, and Fred takes that as a win. In the few months before Fred and George finally took the plunge and moved to London he and Y/N had been fighting more than ever, and like an idiot he forgot that most of those fights revolved around his need to get out of their hometown. While he found Ottery’s size suffocating, Y/N found it charming and more than once she’d made it clear to Fred that the only place she could ever imagine raising a family was the little village they’d grown up in. 

So instead of making her choose between her own dreams and his, Fred decided to leave. It broke something in him that day, watching Y/N get smaller and smaller in the rearview mirror as they drove away. But he knew moving to London would have broken Y/N too, and he’d rather die than see her become someone she isn’t. 

So, he left with no intentions of ever coming back. 

And yet here they are again.

“What can I say, I’m a city boy now through and through.”

Y/N hums, giving Fred one last glance before she starts to walk along the creek, and it only takes a moment of hesitation before he follows. She’s walking slow enough that it only takes a few strides for Fred to catch up, and before he knows it they’re walking side by side, arms just barely brushing as they move. 

“It’s everything you ever wanted then?” Y/N inquires after a few quiet minutes. Her eyes are downcast, and Fred is thankful that she can’t seem to look at him. He’s not sure he’d be able to handle it. 

“It is, yeah,” Fred answers honestly, swallowing thickly. “The store is better than everything George and I ever dreamed of. And the friends we’ve made are amazing. It’s better than I ever imagined.”

“That’s good,” she responds, voice curt. “So  you don’t regret leaving everything behind to start a new life?”

“Not everything,” Fred answers honestly again, his voice laden with remorse. 

She stops in her tracks then, turning to finally face Fred. He stops too, barely able to bring his eyes to meet hers. He can tell by the way she exhales that she’s upset, but he can’t find himself feeling sorry for what he said. Because all of it is true. 

He realized it the other night, after they got back from the pub and he couldn’t sleep. That weird feeling in the pit of his stomach was still there, and he couldn’t figure out why. He thought seeing his old friends would ease it, that he was nervous about seeing them again after so long and it wouldn’t feel the same as it used to. But the night couldn’t have gone better, they all picked right back up as if no time had passed at all. 

And yet the feeling had only gotten worse. 

When he fluffed his pillow for the hundredth time his fingers brushed against something under it, and when he pulled it out his stomach dipped even further. It was a picture from high school that George took of Fred and Y/N. She was wrapped up in his arms as she smiled for the camera, but Fred had been looking at her. He’s looking at Y/N with so much love you’d think she’d hung the moon and the stars and in that moment Fred realizes that she did. She was the universe, and Fred was a mere mortal lucky enough to be caught in her orbit.

And it’s in that moment that he finally realizes what that funny feeling in the pit of his stomach is.

Regret.

“Fuck you, Fred,” Y/N finally responds, voice full of anger. “I stood there in the middle of town square crying as I begged you not to leave. As I begged you not to leave me behind like everything we had meant nothing to you. And now all these years later you have the audacity to stand here and tell me that you’re only regret in life is leaving me behind.”

She turns on her heel and storms away, and Fred immediately follows. “Will you just let me explain?” he calls as he catches up. He grab’s Y/N’s wrist, stopping her in her tracks so he can pull her back towards him. 

Suddenly her body is pressed up against his, and Fred’s heart feels like it might beat right out of his chest. He can’t remember the last time they were this close and he instinctively reaches up to cup her cheek. “Please,” he begs. “Don’t run away from me.”

Snow has started to softly fall around them, and Fred feels like he can’t breathe as her eyes finally rise to meet his. “Please,” he whispers, afraid that if he speaks too loud it’ll break whatever trance they’ve fallen into. 

A softly murmured Fred is Y/N’s only response, and before he can second guess himself Fred leans down and kisses Y/N slowly - finally feeling like he’s home. 

-

“This is still your go to hiding place I see.”

Y/N doesn’t even flinch at the sound of his voice, as if she was expecting him to find her here. Which wouldn’t surprise Fred in the slightest. They used to be so in sync it was as if they shared a brain - and he’s happy to find that time and distance hasn’t changed that one bit. 

When she does nothing to acknowledge his presence Fred heaves a sigh, taking a step closer to where Y/N sits. “Ignoring me isn’t going to make me go away. It only fuels me to stick around to annoy you further.”

That earns him a glare, and he can’t help but smile. “There’s my girl,” he teases.

“Oh fuck off Fred,” Y/N responds, but there’s no malice in her voice. 

Fred takes that as an invitation to come closer, and he sits down on the empty swing next to her. His mind has been racing since Y/N took off after their kiss a few hours earlier, and now that he’s here with her it’s finally starting to quiet down. He’s not really sure what possessed him to kiss her, and even now that he can think straight his brain has yet to come up with something decent to say to her. 

They just sit there staring straight ahead for who knows how long, feet just barely pushing against the ground so they can slowly swing back and forth. Wind curls around them as it blows, but Fred hardly feels the chill as he thinks about the girl sitting beside him. He hasn’t thought about her for years, and all it’s taken is three days and a few brief interactions for his thoughts to be consumed with Y/N once again. 

“I can’t do it again.”

It’s Y/N that finally breaks the silence, and Fred turns so he can look at her. She doesn’t meet his gaze, but Fred can see the way her lip trembles and he has to fight the urge to reach out and comfort her. 

“When you left,” she continues, taking a deep breath. “When you left before it broke me, Fred. I couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe. It took months for my life to get back on track and over a year for me to start to finally feel normal again. I got my degree and started teaching, started dating again-“ she pauses as Fred flinches at those words. “Point is I moved on from you, and I can’t do it all over again. I can’t let you back in just for you to leave again.”

Y/N finally turns to look at him, and when Fred opens his mouth to respond she puts her hand up to stop him. 

“But I also can’t ignore the way that kiss made me feel. Because nothing I’ve done in the years since you left has ever made me feel like that and I can’t go around just pretending that you have no effect over me. Not if I’m going to survive seeing you around over the next few weeks.”

“So what are you saying?” Fred asks after a moment. He’s pretty sure he knows exactly what Y/N is saying - but he needs to hear it come from her.

“I’m saying that as long as we can agree that whatever is going on between us is just for this time that you’re back in town - then I’m in. No real feelings, no talking about our future. Just me and you and the next two weeks. Do you agree?”

Fred knows that he should walk away. That he should say no, stand up and walk away from Y/N and just avoid her for the rest of this trip. But Fred is selfish, and the only thing he wants in this moment is Y/N and whatever parts of herself she’ll allow him to have - even if just for a short period of time. 

So instead of walking away, Fred nods - forcing a grin on his face. “I do.”

-

“How the fuck is your cunt still so tight,” Fred groans as he buries his face in Y/N’s neck. 

She’s sinking down onto his cock for the third time today, and the way she squeezes around him is making his head spin. They hadn’t wasted any time after their talk in the park. As soon as the words left Fred’s mouth they were on each other, Fred pressed her against the swing set as they kissed and he’d been tempted to fuck her right there in the middle of the park. But ever the responsible one, Y/N had managed to hold Fred off long enough for her to drag them down the block to her place. 

He took her for the first time against her front door, both of them still fully dressed with their pants pulled down just enough for Fred to slide his cock into her cunt. It had been frantic and uncoordinated but still perfect and over embarrassingly too quickly. Which is why Fred took Y/N for the second time on her couch a few steps away. He managed to get them both undressed as they stumbled into the living room, and he spent so much time on his knees kissing and licking at her pussy that he’s sure to have rug burn in the morning. 

For the third time they finally managed to make it into bed. After she came in his mouth and around his cock Fred finally felt satisfied enough to take his time. He kissed Y/N slowly as they made their way down the hall, stopping periodically to press her up against the wall. When they fell into bed she’d crawled right on top, whispering into his mouth about how it was her turn to take control. 

Which is how they got here, with Fred’s mouth pressing kisses from her neck to her collarbone, her hips moving against him as she rides his cock at an achingly slow pace. It feels too perfect and too much like home for Fred to handle, so he grips her hips and kisses Y/N hard to avoid saying the things that are running on a loop in his mind. His thumb finds her clit as Y/N words herself on his cock, rubbing circles in time with her movement to push her closer and closer to another climax. 

“Fred, fuck,” Y/N moans breathily as his lips trail back down her neck, toes curling as that familiar feeling pools in the pit of her stomach for what feels like the dozenth time tonight. Fred knows her body even better than she does, and it's embarrassing how quickly Fred has already brought her to the edge of another orgasm. Sex has never felt like this with anyone but Fred, and Y/N already regrets agreeing to a temporary fling. 

Because being here with Fred already feels too much like coming home. 

All it takes is one more final whispered, “That’s my girl, come for me,” from Fred to push Y/N over the edge. Pleasure washes over her in waves, electric shocks radiating from the tips of her toes to the top of her head as her cunt clenches around Fred’s cock, bringing him over the edge with her. 

As they both come down Fred gently rolls over, resting so that they’re both on their sides facing each other, his cock still buried deep inside. He knows he should pull out before they both get too uncomfortable, but some primal urge keeps him from moving an inch. 

Neither one says anything, chests heaving to catch their breath as they look into each other’s eyes. Fred figures he should say something to break the heaviness in the air that has settled around them, but Y/N is so warm against him and her bed is so soft that he can’t find the energy to do much besides pull her in even closer so that their bodies are practically one as they drift off to sleep. 

-

Fred spends the days leading up to Christmas at home with his siblings, taking the time to reminisce about their childhood while always finding new ways to create mischief with his plethora of nieces and nephews. For as much as he was dreading coming back to Ottery, Fred actually finds himself having a lot of fun, and he finds that he doesn’t miss London as much as he thought he would. 

And he’s sure that spending his nights in Y/N’s bed has played a role in that as well. 

Once everyone heads to bed at night he sneaks back out, taking the short walk into town to meet Y/N. Sometimes she’s closing up her Uncle’s pub, and Fred sits at the bar and harasses her as she completes all of her closing tasks before walking her back to her place. Other times she’s waiting for him in the town square after coming from her parents or running an errand, and Fred kisses her right there to try and erase the thoughts of him watching her get smaller and smaller in his rearview mirror. 

But most nights she’s already in bed waiting, the porch light on and the door unlocked so he can slip inside. Those nights are his favorite because it’s easy to pretend that this is their life. That Fred’s coming home to his favorite girl and their warm bed after working late or hanging out at the pub with his friends - instead of him coming over for a quick fuck and a few hours of sleep before he has to sneak back into his parent’s house. 

Christmas Eve comes upon them quicker than Fred would like, and they agree not to see each other until Boxing Day - neither one wanting their family to catch them in the act. Fred barely gets any sleep that night, tossing and turning so much George throws a pillow at him in warning. Less than a week he’s been sleeping beside Y/N and Fred already is having trouble sleeping on his own. 

He doesn’t want to think about the fact that in one more week he’ll be back to sleeping alone. 

The kids wake everyone up far too early on Christmas morning, and as Fred trudges down the stairs the only thing on his mind is how he might be able to sneak away to see Y/N for a few minutes. After presents are opened and breakfast is eaten, Fred is just about ready to implement his plan to see Y/N under the guise of an after meal walk when his parents drop the news. 

“I’m just so happy you all took the time to come spend the holidays with us here back home this year. It really warms my old heart to see all my babies back under my roof,” his mother starts, hand pressed against her heart. 

“But your Father and I have been talking a lot this year about what our future looks like and well,” she pauses, looking over her shoulder at Arthur.”

“We’ve decided to sell The Burrow,” he announces, resting a comforting hand on Molly’s shoulder. Ginny stands in protest, and Arthur puts a hand up to stop her. “It’s far too big of an undertaking for just your mother and I, and between all the traveling we do to visit you all we only spend a few days a month here. That’s why we decided to hold the holidays here just one last time, so we could fill this place with love and laughter one more time before we give another family the opportunity to make their own memories here.”

Bill, acting in his big brother duty, is the first to speak up. 

“I know this decision must not have been easy for the two of you to make, and I think I speak for all of us when I say that while it is going to be hard to wrap our minds around the fact that The Burrow won’t be ours anymore - we respect your decision and are happy that you guys are following your dreams.”

“Yeah, we love this place,” Ginny starts, getting up to hug Molly and Arthur. “But we love you more, and we support you in any way that you need.”

They all murmur similar sentiments as they join Ginny and their parents in a group hug, but Fred finds himself not really meaning any of the words coming out of his mouth. He was just starting to find the joy in coming home to Ottery, and now there won’t really be a home to come back to. The thought of making some excuse to come up and visit Mum and Dad in the new year was the only thing that made the thought of leaving Y/N next week tolerable - and now he doesn’t even have that to hold on to. 

“You alright?” George asks as they separate from the hug, nudging Fred’s shoulder with his own. 

He nods, putting the best smile he can manage on his face. “Yeah, just busting at the seams from all that food. Think I’m going to take a walk - make some room for Christmas dinner.”

George gives him a look that screams he knows Fred is up to something, but he just gives his brother a nod in acknowledgement. “Alright, mate. See you in a bit.”

The second he grabs his coat Fred is slipping out the front door, phone already in hand to convince Y/N to sneak away to meet him.

-

“You’re not going to try and fuck me out here, are you? Because getting arrested for public indecency is definitely not how I want to spend my Christmas,” Y/N jokes as she approaches. But as soon as she sees the look on Fred’s face the smile drops from her own, and she takes the swing next to him. “What happened? Did someone die?”

“Just my childhood,” he responds dryly. 

“Elaborate, please.”

Fred heaves a sigh. “Mum and Dad are selling the burrow, they announced it after breakfast.”

“Oh,” Y/N exhales, taken by surprise. “I’m sorry.”

Except her tone sounds more confused than comforting, and Fred gives her a questioning look. “You don’t sound sorry.”

“Sorry it’s just, you confuse the fuck out of me Fred. You haven’t been home in years, in fact you ran the hell out of here like your ass was on fire and never even looked back. And now you’re acting as if your life is over because your parents are selling their house when in reality it’s not going to have any effect on you or your life.”

Fred scoffs, pushing off of the swing so he can slowly pace back and forth. “I just, I don’t know. Always thought that they’d be there to come home to if I ever needed it. And recent events have made me think that maybe coming home every once in a while isn’t such a bad idea.”

“Don’t,” Y/N states firmly, standing up as well. “Before we started this you agreed that it was a one time only thing. No talking about the future, no real feelings. Just us fucking around until you run back off to London in the New Year.”

“Well I’ve changed my mind,” he announces. “I want to talk about the future and have real feelings. Because this past week has been the best week I’ve had in years. Seeing the lads, running around the burrow with everyone, spending time with you. This is the life I’ve been missing out on and I don’t want to miss anymore.”

“Fuck you,” Y/N spits. “Where was this revelation ten years ago when you left me crying by the side of the road while you went off to start a new life without me? I’m sorry that you regret your decisions in life Fred, but it’s too little too late. I can’t trust you anymore. We talked about starting a life here and then you fucked off to London and now you want to come back here and expect me to just jump back in where we left off? Who’s to say you won’t regret this decision in ten more years and you’ll abandon me here with kids and a house and a whole fucking life you just decide to throw away? I’ve spent enough of my life picking up the pieces that you broke and I’m done.”

Fred’s crying silently as she storms away from him, and it’s far too familiar to the scene he left behind all those years ago. Except Fred had turned back to give Y/N one last glance, but she keeps her head forward as she leaves him behind.

-

They leave to go back to London on New Year's Day. Christmas is usually their biggest time of year, and both Fred and George want to get back so that the employees who covered for them can get some much deserved time off. Fred had texted Y/N to let her know when they planned on leaving in case she wanted to say goodbye, and despite not getting a response he remains hopeful until the moment they start the car up to leave.

Fred keeps his eyes forward as they drive away from the burrow, steadily ignoring the way his twin looks at him from the passenger seat. He knows he’s been acting weird since Y/N left him standing alone in the park, hoping that his behavior can be attributed to the fact that their parents are selling their childhood home and not the fact that he somehow managed to break his own heart. 

“You alright?” George asks as they drive through Ottery one last time. 

“No,” Fred answers honestly, looking over at his brother from the corner of his eye. That ache that settled in his bones when they first arrived two weeks ago is back with a vengeance, and it only hurts more knowing he’s the reason why it’s there. “I’ll feel better once we’re home.”

“Yeah, I guess London really is our home now.”

Fred just hums in acknowledgement, eyes flicking to the rearview mirror for one last look at Ottery as they leave for good.

[caseylicious]

If you’re still taking requests, can I ask for Donnie and Leo headcanons for fem reader with abandonment issues and severe anxiety that they try to hide?

I'm Here.

Summary: How does Leo comfort his girlfriend finding out she has fear of abandonment?

Characters: Leo

Reader: FEMALE

Relationship: Romantic (Not specified in the request.)

Warnings: Involvement of a break up, Fear of abandonment, Anxiety. Hurt/Comfort.

A/N: I am on a ROLL finishing these requests!! I genuinely, could not think of how to write Donnie's so please take only Leo. Thank you for the request, doll!

As always! Please, Enjoy 💐

[ If you have any constructive criticism or corrections for any of my English do let me know! :) ]

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - 💐

You never expected yourself to be in a loving relationship again. It took you a long time to trust people after your last partner. They chose to manipulate you into thinking they'd stay with you forever. Before abandoning you, as if you were trash. Ever since that day you've relapsed on how they told you how much they loved you, how much they cared about you. That they'd never abandon you.

But in the end those were all lies and you were left a heartbroken mess. It wasn't until April pulled you out of your break-up hole to build yourself back up. Introducing you to her friends; you felt yourself to heal.

You even fell for one of the brothers! And they were everything your ex wasn't. They respectful of your wishes, loyal to you as their girlfriend, and had a good sense of humor. Though, they always repeated how they wouldn't leave you, and how they'll be with you forever. Which made you question your relationship completely. Not because you didn't want to be with them! No, no!

You just didn't want them to abandon you like your ex did. You just couldn't go through all of that again.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - 💐

💙 Leo

Leo loves you dearly, He is the man of PDA. He actually had feelings for you first.

You just were so cool in his eyes and so beautiful too.

April has told him and his brothers about how you may be a bit distant due to your own personal issues. And they all accepted that.

However Leo had no clue how much baggage your ex forced you to deal with when they left.

And you tried hiding the memory as best as you could. You were doing better than before. You could even say with some effort you're over it.

It wasn't until you both were cuddling one another as he said those 5 words.

"I'll never leave you..." He smiled, holding you close. Expecting you to say a silly comment... but you didn't. You only looked up at him with a blank expression. He looked down at you his smile fading away.

He sweat a little, not knowing what to do. "H- hey, what's with the blank face? You're looking like D, haha!" You blink for a couple seconds, before letting a small chuckle escape from your lips. "A- ah. Sorry, just got lost in my own thoughts..."

You smiled the most genuine you could, before resting back on his plastron.

Ever since that day he's been a bit worried. You haven't reacted like that with him ever.

Was there more to your personal issues than he thought?

He asked April about it again, abut she couldn't tell him. To respect your secret.

He asked his brothers if you told them anything, but there was no luck there.

Leo thought for while: wondering if you genuinely didn't like him. No, that can't be... you loved him dearly. Your feelings wouldn't have changed...

... right?

He didn't want you to leave him. Just the way how you didn't want him to leave you.

So for the next couple of days you've noticed how Leo suddenly brings gifts out randomly.

He did acts of kindness which was sweet, such as bring you flowers, opened doors for you, and many, many favors.

It was cute, but it did make you quite suspicious.

You decided to confront him while you both were on a date. The movie was on and there was warm pizza in front of the both of you.

Your hand clasped with his and he must've said something funny, because you began to laugh loudly.

As your laughter faded you spoke.

"Hey.. babe?" His eyes went away from the screen and onto you. "Yeah hun?" You looked up at him, fixing your position. "Why have you've been acting more sweetly towards me?" He was caught off guard from your question. "Hmm.. well because somebody like you deserves the sweetest~" Of course he uses humor.

"No, well... thank you." Admittedly, it was cute and made you blush. "But... you did random things for me out of the blue. Am I missing something?"

"No, n- no. You aren't missing anything Y/N..." He pat your head once, as you adjusted your head for him to continue. Before he could say anything, you talked first. "Then what's up Leon?" He sighed, "Just.. when I said I would never leave you. Your face suddenly changed..." You could see him open his mouth, but then close it. "Did... I offend you? In any way?"

"What-? No, no. You didn't offend me.."

"Then, what happened back there?"

You frowned, seeing how worried your boyfriend was. You gave in. "Just... it reminded me of my ex-partner." You could see his expression changed to surprised. "They said they wouldn't leave and... they did. In the most humiliating way possible." You looked away from him. You thought you were over them, yet it still hurt you like this. "..I-i'm sorry." Your voice became hushed as there were tears in the corner of your eyes.

Your boyfriends' arms wrapped around you, his head on top of yours. "No Y/N, I'm sorry. That must be something difficult to talk about..." You didn't know what to say as your tears dropped. You opened your mouth to say something... but nothing came out except sobs. "I meant it when I said I wouldn't ever leave you. Y'know that right?" You nodded your head as you gripped onto his shell to just cry.

After that date you both spoke about boundaries and what to expect for the incoming future.

A future that you'd both together in.