and the worst thing is that there is still enough dorks to make a part three

The Real You

Summary: Danny doesn’t have a crush on Stiles. No way.

Notes: Another one for @inell, who wanted Stiles/Danny and “be nice to your seat partner, they might just be your future spouse!” This is an AU where nothing supernatural happened in Beacon Hills. (On AO3)

Danny always hates the start of every school year. There’s a new schedule to learn, a new locker to find, and an influx of baby-faced freshman wandering around. There are also new teachers, new classes, and most importantly, new seating assignments.

He has to stifle a groan when he discovers that his desk-mate for English is none other than Stilinski. He’s weird and awkward, and only ever seems to hang out with his one dorky friend. Danny does not need him bringing down his reputation.

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Funnel Cake - Okieriete Onaodowan x Reader (Pt. 2 of Cotton Candy)

Summary: The story of the first date Oak takes you on after your meeting at the carnival. The universe loves to repeat itself, but it also loves to meddle. 

Warnings: A single swear word. Literally, that’s it. 


Request: @l-tay - Cotton Candy gave me MAJOR Oak feels. Part 2? Please? Pretty please with more tooth rotting fluff on top?

A/N: Okay so, when I started this I totally hated it, but by the time I finished it I really loved it. So there’s a mound of mixed feelings about this one. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it!

askbox | masterlist

The worst part of a date, hands down, was the wait. The minutes that dragged on as you stare at the clock in anticipation, or the seconds that hurry by too fast for your grasp to hold on tight enough and be early for once in your goddamn life.

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Requested by: anon
Request: I was wondering if you could write one where spencer gets slightly jealous that Morgan calls the reader baby girl and that sort of thing and have a friendship similar to the one that Morgan and Garcia have, and spencer acts kind of distant to everyone and keeps looking up at the reader idk if this makes sense but then she confronts him and he confesses his feelings just fluff pretty much. Yea I love your writing, thank you sm


You had been working at the Behavioral Analysis Unit for almost three years now. Since you started, you had grown to love each and every member as if they were all part of your family - because they were, really. But you’d always had a special bond with Morgan.
He was your first friend on the team. The first day you met, he’d forgotten your name and just settled for calling you “princess.” He still calls you that even after three years. He was like your big brother. You went to him for advice, when you were having a bad day, you even went to him when you needed to talk about a certain guy in your life. He was always there when you needed him, and you knew he always would be.
You sighed as you took a seat at your desk. You hated paperwork. You glanced up to see Reid jetting through his and shook your head with a smile - the man amazed you. Besides Morgan, Reid was probably your best friend out of everyone else on the team. You two spent the most time together outside of work, and you had plenty of stuff in common, but Reid was too someone you thought of as a brother figure. You didn’t know what you felt towards him, but you knew it was strong and special, and absolutely terrifying.
“Hey, Spence? You should take some of my stack.” You suggested teasingly, pointing to the giant stack of files on your desk and sticking your bottom lip out slightly, earning a smile and chuckle from the man. He didn’t say anything, just rolled his chair across the room to your desk and took nearly half of the stack. Your eyes widened as you shook your head, trying to reach for the files, but he was already rolling back to his desk. “Spence, I was kidding. You don’t have to do those.” You said, sending him a grateful smile anyway.
“I know.” He said, his eyes never leaving the paperwork. “Just make it up to me later.” He added, sending you a nervous smile.
“How?” You asked, raising your eyebrows and waiting for him to suggest some kind of weird movie night at his place. However, you never knew what he was going to say, because before he could answer he was interrupted by Morgan.
“Morning, Princess.” He said, kissing the top of your head and smiling down at you. “Morning, Pretty Boy.” He added, nodding at Reid. Reid raised his hand and let out a sigh, going back to his paperwork with his shoulders slumped slightly. He didn’t talk to you for the rest of the day, or any other day for that matter.
For two weeks, he’d avoided you and the team as much as he could. He didn’t speak unless he was spoken to, or unless it was something important to the case. He didn’t go out with the rest of the team and he didn’t joke around with you like he used to. You didn’t know what you did, but you’d make sure you found out.
“Hey, Spence?” You walked up to his desk and sat on the corner, staring down at the man. “I have to talk to you about something really important. Will you meet me in the break room?” You asked, watching as he sighed and hesitated before finally standing up and following you. When you got there, you shut the door behind you and stood in front of it with your arms crossed.
“Alright, Reid. What the hell is wrong with you?” You questioned, using your best glare to stare him down. “You’ve said about fifteen words to me in two weeks. You act like being around me is the worst thing imaginable. What did I do?” You sighed, searching his eyes for some kind of answer. “If you didn’t want to be my friend, you just had to say it.”
“Stop.” Spencer said, holding his hands up and shaking his head. “It isn’t that, I promise.” He added quickly, sighing and looking at the floor.
“Then tell me what it is!” You laughed. You just wanted to fix whatever had went wrong. You missed Spencer. “Talk to me, Spence. Please?”
“Alright, fine. I like you, Y/N. A lot. And it’s pretty obvious that you feel nothing like that towards me…I mean, I’m no Morgan. So, I thought that by pulling back, it’d be easier to get over this feeling…” He admitted, finally meeting your gaze and swallowing thickly.
You didn’t say anything. You just stepped forward and wrapped your arms around his neck. Soon enough, you felt his arms wrap around your waist and you smiled, pressing your face into his shoulder and sighing contently. “By the way, I like you too, Dork.”


I hope you like this! If not, I’m sorry! I tried, haha! I’m sorry it took so long. I’ve been so busy with school and just a bunch of other things!!

If you like this, send me requests! If not, I appreciate constructive criticism! Please be nice tho bc im a v sensitive bean ://

Thank you! I love y'all! xx

When You Come Home (Part 2 of 3)

Part One | Masterlist

Pairing: Lin-Manuel x Reader

Summary: Enjoy the ride, kids.

Warnings: Did we mention #pain before? Because #pain is coming.

Word Count: 14,114 (and you thought part one was long lmao)

A/N: We have been absolutely floored by all of the incredibly kind responses to part one and we have been itching to give you this for days. Honestly, we can’t thank you enough for reading this pile of garbage and saying such nice things about it, and we hope that you still like us after you read this. So here we go, part TWO of THREE! (you can get through this, we believe in you)

Also: here’s a playlist that we’ve been making and listening to over the course of writing this fic. You should totally listen to it while you read this part… for the immersive experience.

-Team GTNW-

“This is literally the worst,” he groaned as he lied flat on his back on his mattress, staring up at the stucco ceiling. “Do you know how pathetic this makes us?”

You didn’t know. It wasn’t too big of a deal for you because in your mind, there was always something else that was somehow within reach yet still unbelievably unattainable. But even then, just knowing that you had this regardless of whether or not it was reciprocated was sufficient enough for you.

“I think you’re blowing everything out of proportion,” you huffed as you rolled your eyes, already fed up with his gripe that was lasting more than the five minutes you anticipated it would. With a copy of 1984 opened up and dying to be read in your hands, you just wanted it to be over. “It’s really not that bad.”

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anonymous asked:

How would the Gasters react if they thought their S/O was cheating, when it turns out they were just being secretive to get them a present?


- He’s concerned
- Which is putting it lightly
- You’ve been staying out late, hiding your phone screen while you text, avoiding conversation
- His first thought isn’t that you’re cheating, but that something’s wrong
- Are you stressed from work? Depressed? Did someone upset you?
- He keeps dropping hints that he knows something’s up, that you can come to him with any problem and he’ll gladly help
- The more that you say you’re fine, the more he worries
- It’s Sans who plants the idea in his head
- ‘maybe they’re gettin’ bonely and started seein’ someone on the side.’
- He literally only said it for the pun, but Gaster’s way too insecure to not take it seriously
- He can’t stop thinking about it
- On the one hand, he has total faith in your loyalty
- But on the other, he’s shocked you ever wanted to date him in the first place
‘I’d leave me, too.’
- Soon he can’t take it any more and timidly begs asks to know what you’ve been up to
- He admits that it’s been driving him crazy
- You didn’t want to ruin the surprise so early, but it’s not worth making him anxious
- So you tell him to pack a travel bag and take the next week off work
- You’ve been planning a trip to Disney World
- Gast’s all like

- This 36 year old man is gonna have the time of his heckin life wearing one of those mickey ear hats and eating overpriced churros and you’d better kiss him while the fireworks are going off because it’s so romantic-


- If you’re being disloyal, he’s going to kill you
- …except he won’t
- He might kill someone else, though
- And be really, really sad angry
- When you start acting strange, the idea doesn’t even occur to him
- He’s prideful enough to believe that you’re perfectly happy with the relationship
- But part of him is fully aware of his flaws
- i.e. his temper
- Sometimes it scares you, or his stubbornness makes you upset
- Has he pushed you too far? Is that why you’ve stopped talking to him?
- Expecting the worst, he closes himself off
- He’s back to his old, snide self
- Cold, distant, cruel, angry
- It’s really just a defense mechanism, since he’s sure you’re going to drop the truth at any moment
- And break his heart
- You notice, obviously
- And ask him why’s he’s being such a dick
- He childishly argues that he’ll stop being this way once you tell him what you’ve been up to
- So you walk to the closet, pull out a hidden box, and shove the immaculately wrapped present at him
- Gaster almost immediately realizes his mistake
- He feels incredibly stupid
- So he opens the gift and sees it’s that expensive book set he‘s been wanting
- He quietly thanks you
- There’s no spoken apology, but he does take you out to a nice restaurant the next night


- I’d like to think he’s mature and experienced enough not to jump to conclusions
- But like
- He’s a Gaster
- It could go one of two ways
- 1) He is a mature adult and brings up that you’ve been acting differently, and if something is wrong you should talk to him about it
- 2) He goes full Phantom of the Opera and gets extra clingy, even more obsessive
- Like making excuses for you to stay longer when you visit
- ‘You can’t leave yet, I need help with…moving a couch.’
- ‘Please disregard the fact that I don’t own a couch.’
- He’d never force you to stay but he’s nearly desperate when asking
- Plus he does all these super unnecessary things to prove his affection and ‘win’ you back
- Someone plz let him know it is not the 1400s and you don’t get a spouse by throwing gifts at them
- He’s just so upset and he could easily discuss it but he’s too busy being an operatic drama queen
- I bet he writes sad poetry about it in his diary, fuckin dork
- Either you’ll have to intervene or he’ll pull himself together and be a goddamn adult about it
- Option 3 that I hadn’t considered until now) he makes use of his sneaky skills and straight up follows you
- Hopefully it occurs to him that that is a huge violation of trust but like I said, he’s a Gaster
- They tend to not have the best judgment


- It’s not until he sees strange receipts on the table that he starts to get ideas
- Why were you shopping at these high end stores…?
- Rather than coming to the blindingly obvious conclusion that you’re getting him something special, he’s heartbroken
- It’s finally happened, hasn’t it? You’ve found someone better, and you’re wooing them with fancy gifts
- He goes to soap opera levels of drama and imagines how you’ll break the news
- Each scenario is even worse than the last
- He mopes around his massive mansion, anxiously waiting for you to come home
- You return with a bunch of shopping bags, which only reaffirm his suspicions
- He outright asks who you’ve been seeing
- Your confusion seems genuine
- But he pushes on anyway
- He shoves the receipts in your face
- You must be getting gifts for your secret lover! Why else would you be buying a…
- …a telescope…and a book on astronomy…a star map…
- Come to think of it, he hadn’t actually looked at the items listed
- He’s so ashamed for accusing you
- In his defense he’s been cheated on way too many times, it’s left him a little paranoid


- He doesn’t really understand the concept of cheating on a partner, since his species is pretty much entirely asexual and often polyamorous
- But he does understand jealousy, and it seems like you’ve been spending more time with someone else than with him
- And that is wholly unacceptable
- How dare you not spend every possible moment you can in his company
- He’ll be super passive aggressive and bitchy about it
- I mean he’s usually a grump but this is a new level
- Turning his back on you, refusing to surface, splashing you with saltwater, the silent treatment
- Basically just a giant baby about the whole thing
- I don’t know what you could even get for him, it’d have to be waterproof and tailored to his very specific interests
- Which are pretty much just food and anything to keep him from getting bored while you’re away
- Maybe pool toys or something
- Whatever it is, he will grouchily accept it
- And gradually forget why he was angry because hey, this gift is really nice!
- Also his short term memory is really shitty so

Tech Support

Rating: General Audiences
Word Count: 5750
Co-written by: syl-writes-stuff
Summary: @skimmingsurfaces​ sent me a prompt:  “‘I keep calling the IT center because you seem really cute’ au because Wirt and technology fails and he would so keep calling Dipper because Dipper is insanely cute.” I filled the prompt <3

Tech Support

“Thank you for calling Mystery Tech. For your awareness, this phone call may be recorded for quality assurance purposes. My name is Tyrone. How can I help you today?”

“Um. Right. H-hi. I don’t-” There was a gusty sigh. “My little brother got me a laptop, and I have no idea what I’m doing.”

Tech support laughed. “Okay, no problem. Is there something specific that you’re trying to do?”

“I- Oh, no. Wait. Hold on. He can’t know I called tech support.” The caller’s voice was muffled. “I’m coming, Greg! Just give me five minutes!” Pause. “No, I know exactly what I’m doing and absolutely don’t need your help!” There was another pause before his voice became clear again. “I have no idea what I’m doing, and I need your help.”

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The 4 Times Gladion Helped You Out

Title: The 4 times Gladion helped you out (and the 1 time he helped himself)

Note: So here’s another thing that got out of hand. It’s that How To Be Single AU but I fixed the ending!!

Pairing: Gladion x Reader or Gladion x Moon (surprise surprise) if you prefer. Hau x Lillie.


You’ve always known what kind of guy you wanted in life.

It didn’t hit you until you started looking for him that there were rules and barriers and codes of conduct for that sort of thing. You always thought it would be simple as meeting a guy in the everyday and getting to know each other, like your best friends Lillie and Hau, happily married for almost a year. In fact, they’re so happy that sometimes you just want to get away from them. Which, brings you to…

“You done staring at my bar?”

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@machine-dove sent me a message yelling about my tags on this post and said I had to write the ficlet.

I’m always a slut for prompts, so…

The thing was, Steve would swear in the years that followed, he really felt like him and Bucky had been dancing around this for months.  They’d been best friends for years, for as far back as either of them could remember, but after the weirdness that had been middle school there’d been a charge there, a spark of something humming beneath the surface of their interactions that both excited and scared the hell out of them.  

Or out of Steve, anyway.  He’d finally gotten the nerve to admit - to himself and his friends and loved ones - that he had a thing for both girls and guys at the start of eleventh grade, and while he didn’t have dates of either sex lining up to ask him out, it had at least cleared the air between him and Bucky.  And when Buck had broken up with his last girl of the month, four months ago (not that Steve was keeping track), and they’d started constantly hanging out together again, like old times… well, there was a nasty little voice in Steve’s head that couldn’t help reading more into it.

Especially when Bucky insisted sharing milk shakes when they went out after school, or popcorn when they went to the movies, or letting Steve borrow his Varsity jacket when he accidentally/on purpose forgot to bring his own coat to the Homecoming game they’d gone stag to.  There was definitely something there, something more than Steve had ever dreamed of hoping for - but while one mean side of him liked to point out the possibility of his best friend becoming something even more, the other, meaner side always shut him down: making sure to remind Steve as harshly as possible just how delusional he was being.

Because Bucky, even if he was single, had never once expressed an interest in being with other guys.  And even if he had, Buck was so far out of Steve’s league that it wasn’t funny.  He was smart - honor council this year, top of their class since he’d first transferred to Brooklyn in elementary school - he was on student council, starting pitcher for the varsity baseball team as  a sophomore, a key player in every drama production Washington High had put on since he’d started there.  People were tripping over the opportunity to hang out with Bucky Barnes, never mind the chance to date him.  And Steve… Steve was just Steve.  Scrawny asthmatic with a chip on his shoulder, painfully average student and GSA representative.  He was a decent artist when people took the time to actually look at his work, and Bucky swore up and down that he was funny as hell, but for the most part Steve knew that the only reason he wasn’t regularly getting shoved in lockers anymore was because he was most famous for being Bucky Barnes’ best friend.

Steve was an idiot for even imagining that he had a chance with someone as perfect as Bucky, but he wasn’t so stupid that he’d go and risk something as important as their friendship by asking him out.

Besides, they hung out so often that Steve felt he could pretty safely pretend they were dating.  In the deepest, darkest corners of his mind.  And if ninety-nine percent of his schmoopy fan art of late was based on an AU of Clark Kent and Bruce Wayne as dorky high school boyfriends that maybe bore a little bit of a resemblance to the dumb shit that the two of them did together?  Well… no one needed to know.

It got more hits to his blog, at least.

That said, there were still nights when Steve’s stupid brain couldn’t help but wish.  So when Bucky had sent his text on the Sunday before the MLK Holiday, when Steve was already pouting about the fact that he couldn’t join him in their volunteer plans because his stupid head had decided to come down with a stupid cold, well… Steve couldn’t help feeling a little reckless.

Text from Bucky Received 09:32 PM

What do you wear to bed?

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Begin Again: Chapter 3

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 End
Word count: 2,373
Warnings: a couple of swear words, mention and brief description of a panic attack
(Tags at the end)

Bucky had been standing at the head of the bench press spotting Steve for the past twenty minutes, only half concentrating on his friend. Steve could handle dropping the weight on himself, probably. His mind was still reeling from the conversation he had had with you last night on the balcony. He had woken up at two in the morning and had ran into you in the kitchen when he got up to make himself some green tea to calm himself down.

He figured Sam had been exaggerating, but dammit the tea actually helped. 

Bucky knew that as much as you liked to talk, you also treasured your peace and so he hadn’t expected for your eyes to widen momentarily as you took in his panic-stricken form. You had been in the compound for … almost a month? And yet it was so easy to open up to you.

‘What are you thinking so hard about?’ Steve panted. 

Bucky blinked, losing his staring contest with the wall opposite. ‘Nothing,’ 

‘If you wanted to ask her out, she’d say yes.’

Bucky snapped out of his daze, looking down at his friend, but stayed calm. Steve was a dork but he was also observant, especially when it came to his teammates. Bucky wasn’t surprised that Steve picked up on his crush. 

‘I don’t think so,’ Bucky replied, abandoning Steve on the bench and hooking up a punching bag at the opposite end of the room. ‘She’s just being friendly.’

Steve smirked. ‘She doesn’t take the time to coax everyone back to sleep, Buck.’

Bucky blushed furiously. ‘How’d you know about that? And she doesn’t do it all the time, just happened like twice.’ 

‘Still, that’s more than enough.’

Bucky tried to suppress his broad smile. ‘You know she told me to screw Hydra,’ he chuckled.

‘What?’ Steve laughed breathlessly, resting the bar in place and sitting up.

‘No seriously, it was awesome,’ Bucky said. ‘I mean, I appreciate everyone’s patience but I think I needed to hear that.’

‘You’re only proving my point,’ Steve said knowingly. 

Bucky made a face and shook his head. ‘We’re friends, Steve, but I don’t think she’d want someone with so much baggage. Relationships are different.’

‘You’re just talking hypothetically,’ Steve argued. 

‘Steve, she -’ Bucky scowled. ‘She’s like the sun, y’know? She’s so good at everything I’m terrible at and she’s so smart and she’s gonna graduate from college and have this fancy high-tech job and fucking live this life that I can’t be a part of because I’m still trying to learn what the fuck this century even is!’

Steve surveyed his friend as he voiced all his thoughts that had been accumulating for the past few weeks; maybe longer, maybe since he had come out of cryo in Wakanda. It wasn’t news to Bucky that his experience under Hydra was an unfortunate, horrific chain of events that were never a result of his own doing, and although Bucky was still healing from his past he didn’t quite need to be comforted as much on the issue. It was that Bucky felt like he was falling behind; it was combination of his PTSD and his frustration with his PTSD, and the incredibly rational fear of his captors and the organisation they were part of. Bucky was just scared. 

‘I really like her but I like being her friend and I don’t … I don’t want to push my luck.’

After three weeks of living in the compound, the butterflies in your stomach were getting increasingly harder to ignore. Around you, Bucky completely eased into this charming, dorky, guy whose smile could reverse climate change and outshine the sun. 

The worst part was that there was a completely rational part of you that was content with being Bucky’s friend - not only that, but that part of you knew that it was the best thing for him. The man was only just starting to adjust to life here after seventy years spent as a weapon, two spent alone trying to salvage bits and pieces of himself to construct a new level of normalcy, and then ending up in the middle of a crisis resulting in being sent back into cryo. Bucky didn’t need a love life, he needed a friend (besides mum-friend Steve) and you were more than happy to fill in the blanks. 

And then there was the irrational, irritating part of you that wanted nothing more than for Bucky to grab you and kiss you until you couldn’t breathe. You wanted everything you had with him now - the times when you taught him basic mechanics, binge-watching Parks and Recreation after everyone had gone to sleep, midnight pizzas, and drag races (him in one of Stark’s flashy cars, you on your first born child-slash-motorcycle) … You just wanted to kiss him while you did all of that. 

And of course there was the one most poignant worst moment of your life where you and Bucky were driving together just to get some time away from the bustle of the compound; the sun was setting, highlighting the sky with brilliant fiery oranges and golden hues and the light kissed his skin and made his eyes glow like stars or water when the moonlight hit it just right. There was a comfortable silence in the car, save for the music coming from your phone which you had plugged into the speaker system. You were passing through the older, more crooked part of Brooklyn when Bucky knitted his eyebrows and said -

‘I think I used to live here.’

You turned in the passenger’s seat to face him. ‘Really? How can you tell?’

Bucky turned the car back around, circling around the block. ‘There’s gotta be a street sign somewhere,’ he muttered under his breath. ‘Yeah, look!’

Bucky ended up parking the car on the pavement. You both got out and he lead you down between two decrepit apartment buildings; the fire escapes were rusting, black paint chipped, and the brickwork was starting to crumble. Still, with the way the setting sun was hitting the buildings and casting long shadows from the window panes across the walls, it was picturesque. 

Bucky made a point of walking next to you, so close that your arms brushed together. He had his hands tucked in the pockets of his jacket.

‘It used to be kinda sketchy,’ he admitted by means of explanation. ‘But Steve and I lived close to each other and there was this lady who lived with her niece next door and they were always real nice to us. Steve and I used to babysit her niece in the summer while she was at work …’

You smiled at him as he spoke endlessly about his days here. It was the first time he had told you memories of his past before Bucharest, before Hydra, before that period of time where his lifeline knotted and frayed and unraveled. You knew that Steve must have been aiding Bucky in regaining his memories and that there was a time where Bucky held no emotion for the things that he remembered while he tried to place himself back in some sort of timeline, but right here you sensed that Bucky knew he had reasons to be happy. It was all you could ever really ask for, all you realised you wanted for him.

Bucky broke off his sentence, looking at you and realising you had been staring at him. ‘And, yeah, that’s - that’s how we …’

You smirked at his blush and looked away. 

‘What?’ Bucky ducked his head down, smiling nervously, that animated glint still prevalent in his eyes.

You shook your head lightly unable to stifle your smile. ‘Your Brooklyn accent was getting really strong there.’

Living in the compound also meant picking up on the habits of your housemates, meaning you soon found that your window of solidarity rested between one and five o’clock in the morning. No one slept before eleven; people would start to wake at five; no one slept after nine a.m. (except Wanda who, like you, appreciated the art of sleeping until the sun was high in the sky sometimes. You really liked Wanda); Between eleven at night and one in the morning, Sam, Natasha, and Bucky would be playing video games and binge-eating. You loved the team but you also loved being alone sometimes. 

Which was why you were surprised to see Steve in the kitchen at two in the morning. If not asleep, he should have been in the gym.

‘Shouldn’t you be beating the living sand out of a punching bag, Cap?’ you asked as you dug around in the fridge looking for last night’s leftovers. You’d be damned if Sam got to the vegetable lo mein before you did.

‘I wanted to talk to you,’ he replied. 

‘How’d you know I’d be awake?’

‘FRIDAY monitors our activity,’ said Steve smiling somewhat tauntingly; his arms were folded over his chest. ‘I figured a genius such as yourself would know that over a hundred year old man.’

You rolled your eyes. ‘What do you want, Steve?’

‘What’s going on between you and Bucky?’

You choked on the mouthful of noodles, eyes streaming as you took several sips of water to calm yourself down. 

‘What?’ you coughed.

Steve seemed completely unphased by your shock. He didn’t say anything. 

‘Me … Bucky and I - no, there’s nothing,’ you said trying to sound calm.

Steve stayed quiet.

‘I’m serious,’ you emphasised. 

Steve blinked. 

You scoffed. ‘I think Barnes is a little too old for me, Cap, no thanks. We’re just friends, I’m catching him up on something called the twenty-first century, mother, so - I don’t think so.’

There was another beat of silence where your heartbeat pounded in your ears and blood crept up your neck, a blush colouring your cheeks.

Steve quirked an eyebrow and smiled. ‘He’s the same way.’

You paused. ‘What?’

‘He likes you.’

You shook your head and smiled self-deprecatingly. ‘I know that relationships work a little differently now but you’re reading too much into this, Cap. Bucky and I are friends.’

‘I haven’t seen him like this - ever,’ Steve added. ‘Even when we were in high school, Bucky was never this carefree.’

‘It doesn’t matter, Steve,’ you said firmly. ‘I don’t even like him, I have the emotional range of a grape.’

‘That’s not true.’ The bastard didn’t even acknowledge your grape comment. 

‘Steve, I’m not some saving grace that’s gonna get Bucky out of whatever pit he’s in.’

‘That’s the point though, that’s why he likes you,’ Steve implored. ‘Bucky’s been through hell and all he wants is to move on from that. Stark and Natasha thought it best to throw him into missions to get his mind focused but you’re grounding him. I don’t wanna sound dramatic -’

‘You are dramatic, Captain I-Don’t-Need-A-Parachute,’ you grumbled.

‘But you’re basically giving Bucky a reason to be happy here.’

‘Anyone who makes that guy a new arm would,’ you muttered. ‘And that doesn’t mean that he feels anything for me.’

‘You don’t see the way he looks at you,’ Steve argued, ‘and he’s too shy to say anything.’

You stared at him, speechless, with your arms folded, your snack abandoned on the kitchen counter. How does he look at me? The question was on the tip of your tongue but …

‘Bucky’s nice and all, Steve, but I don’t think he’s interested,’ you mumbled. ‘Now,’ you cleared your throat, ‘if you aren’t going to damage Tony’s gym equipment, then I will.’ 

On your way out, you passed through the dead silent corridor, pausing when you noticed that Bucky’s door was ajar. Approaching cautiously, with a stealth Natasha would be proud of, you peered through the gap.

Bucky was sitting on the edge of his bed hunched forward with his head in his hands breathing raggedly; Natasha was sitting next to him, close but not touching. You could hear her murmuring words you couldn’t understand - she was speaking in Russian. You remembered Natasha once saying that she wanted to give Bucky some positive affiliation with fragments of his past, including the language of Bucky’s days as the Winter Soldier.

Bucky was rubbing his hand harshly over his heart.His eyes were screwed shut.

Natasha must have sensed you were there because she looked up and beckoned you closer; as if pulled by an invisible string, you complied and sat by Bucky’s left side.

‘Barnes, you okay?’ you breathed, brow creasing when he nodded without looking up.

‘Breathe through your nose,’ you said in the same tone. ‘Nice and slow.’ You did the motions with him. ‘In … and out …’

Bucky repeated your instructions and you could tell by the gradual ease in his shoulders that his breathing was starting to regulate.

‘What happened?’ you murmured to Natasha.

She bit her lip. ‘Panic attack,’ she replied almost silently.

You looked briefly around you, eyes falling on a glass of water, full to the brim.

‘Is this …?’

‘Yeah,’ Nat replied. ‘I’ll leave you guys alone.’

You knelt down in front of him, one hand cupping the back of his neck and rubbing it gently with your thumb, and the other squeezing his knee. Keeping one hand on his neck, you brought the other to his chin, prompting him to look at you. His eyes were circled with darkening shadows and were streaming with fatigue. You smiled softly at him, brushing the hair at the nape of his neck soothingly.

‘I-it was -’

‘You’re fine,’ you hushed. ‘Breathe now, tell me later, yeah? We’ve got all the time in the world,’ you smirked gently.

It was like clockwork the way you were with him.

‘C’mon,’ you prompted, handing him the glass. ‘Small sips.’

You could feel another set of eyes boring into you and you shifted your eyes past Bucky’s figure and saw Steve watching you with a raised brow and a knowing smirk - past the despondency he felt for his friend - and then retreating to his room.

You ignored him, pushing his words to the back of your mind. You didn’t need his assumptions that Bucky felt anything non-platonic towards you; right now you just wanted Bucky to get his breathing back to normal and get some sleep.

Tags: @lauraonly @mytastereckless @hedakylo @wefracturedmotivation @eternal-queen @dontfuckwithkezolas @mrs-brxghtside @blackdemonseriexx

anonymous asked:

What's something that annoys you most in the KHR-fandom?

Okay, I’m going to have to make a list. Only 10 because if I do more, I’m going to be too angry.

I could easily do more. Disagree if you want to but yeah, this stuff annoys me. Some more than others.

1. General ignorance.

Yes, the Vongola is the oldest and most powerful mafia famiglia in the KHR-verse.

There’s no way it is around 400 years old. Look at how Giotto dresses, the fact that G had a pistol and so on. If you’re going to do the 400-year thing, have a reason for it beyond ‘I want to’ as based on when the mafia first started.

I think the main issue here is that people think established family = stays until everyone is killed/famiglia is destroy. When really they should be thinking more GoT type thoughts. But worse as GoT has more honor, traditionally.

Mafia-life is violent, there’s crime, honor and so on all tied up in the murder business. Succession should be considered a time of crises.

Lots of famiglias don’t survive their first succession, especially if it’s not blood-bound. Because then you get different factions supporting different people and someone is going to get betrayed. And then people and the famiglia die.

It can still happen in famiglias that have bloodline bound succession, but at least no outsider can go and take it over.

Which means that most mafia famiglias tend to die, dissolve or are taken over in the first three generations; potentially through marriage and potentially through violence. That is if in-fighting doesn’t get them first.

That’s human nature, sadly.

2. Geographical ignorance

This is not my best subject, but a flight from Italy to Japan doesn’t take 30 hours. You could have a trip take that long, switching planes and all that but you’ve got layover. Not a flight. Please state the difference.

That said people tend to forget that both Italy and Japan are mountainous countries. Which means winding mountain roads at best and goat-forsaken mountain trails at worst. Namimori’s at least mostly urban/suburban but it’s got rural mountains and a beach nearby. The Iron Fort/the Varia’s Castle are clearly somewhere rural.

Getting from place to place takes time. Not just from Italy to Japan but the Iron Fort to the airport to Japan to Namimori.

3. Character bashing

It happens in every fandom, but some are more prone to being bashed than others.

There is however a difference in bashing and pointing out a character’s flaws.

Everyone is flawed, but some flaws are worse than others.

Even if they’re not really flaws so much as their personality. The difference in bashing is in the evidence and how it is presented.

Is it from a biased character with minimal knowledge/experience? Probably bashing.

Is it from a professional assessment? Probably not bashing and something to worry about.

Is it from a character with moderate knowledge? It’s an educated opinion and everyone character has their own opinions.

I don’t as an author bash characters. It’s bad writing. Allowing my characters to have opinions however is good writing, no matter how or what those opinions are.

4. Giotto the saint, the dork, the Vigilante aka fandom has it all wrong

Giotto was born to well-off folks. He’s the one that went and gave money to that one guy, not Cozart. Which as a teenager and during the time period would have been really precious and a huge deal if there wasn’t more of it available to him.

So Giotto, he’s not nobility but he’s still a lot more rich than the average peasant of the time. He somehow feels enough responsibility that when his town is under threat by bandits and so on that he and his friends form the Vongola.

Also given the time period, the ruling body and so on… I want to know when Vigilante became synonymous with hero without involving comic book super heroes. Because that’s a delusion and a misunderstanding of the word. A vigilante is not a hero. A hero upholds the law; a vigilante takes it in their own hands.

Most vigilantes of that time were more like a posse hunting down criminals. Criminals by their definition.

And Giotto led them.

Giotto is not a saint, is not a harmless dork. He’s a murderer.

Because most of the time, being a vigilante is illegal. Of the ‘being executed’ kind of illegal. Because a vigilante can’t just ask the police to put this person in jail. Vigilantes happen because authority fails to do what they’re supposed to. They’re pissed, want revenge justice, and decide that they don’t care what they’re doing is illegal.

The Vongola became his little murder club that no one wanted to rat on because of reasons. Mostly in that the government was ineffective, nothing was being done and they were fed up with it. And then Giotto solved their bandit problems with murder and then no one wanted to cross the guy who massacred problems.

Because that’s what they did when protecting his home town and other towns as the Vongola grew.

History became a lot warped and Giotto deciding to disarm/dismiss part of his forces, plus the fact that Giotto did something first and was always nice which colored his reputation as a good guy… still a mass murderer.

‘Saint’ and ‘Dork’ Giotto is not.

Giottto was a cocky little shit who grew into an unconsciously arrogant lord who later became horrified by his subjects doing what he saw as crimes, decided that disarming was a good idea, leading towards Elena dying, and all of it being all of Giotto’s fault because hindsight and guilt as Giotto had caused it all by founding the Vongola. Then he left Italy for Japan.

Which is not dealing with the problem he created, okay?

5. Ricardo is the source of all the Vongola’s Sins

Um, Ricardo is related to Giotto. So reasonably well off. Also presumably younger but may not have been.

He did probably spent some years with the Vongola back when it was a little murder club. However as Giotto wined, dined and wooed nobles and so on to sponsor his murder club someone was probably managing the murder club and you know, killing the trouble-makers as promised.

This was probably Ricardo as G and Deamon were with Giotto, hob-nobbing. Alaude might be there but he might not be. Knuckle swore not to kill. Asari might have been back in Japan. Lampo was a coward.

So Ricardo spent a lot more time among the bloodshed than Giotto did. More to the point, when Giotto went to Japan he left Ricardo with the Vongola problem and Daemon.

By this point the Vongola murder club has imitators and targets alike. All of which are fighting it out.

It’s a very bloody time period we really now nothing about. Other than Ricardo pissed off the Tomaso and there was a fight between them. And that Ricardo terrified the underworld so much that he was legend.

It’s just rather hard to find time for decadence and being hedonistic when slaughter enemies. Or greed that’s not loot.

Ricardo probably added to the Vongola’s sins, but mostly through murder, intimidation and a touch of blackmail.

Because the Vongola became financially independant somehow and somewhen and you need time to grow money enough for a criminal empire. So here is is probably the best starting point for that.

6. Tsuna the Saint

Tsuna’s not a saint. He’s a thoughtless, naive and whimpy teenager.

Being fanfiction, this isn’t always true. However somehow making him stronger and smart makes him a saint.

Tsuna’s got ethics and morals and is horrified by seeing the Vongola’s sins.

He still blasted Byakuran out of existence once. A version of him also brought back unprepared teenagers and children -including his then clueless love-interests- into a war-torn future they had no idea about.

Ethics are the limits of the loser.

And Tsuna’s being taught not to lose.

Which shows when Tsuna manages to break the Arcobaleno Curse.

7. Yuni the Saint

Yuni is raised outside the mafia. Probably by some sort of sworn servant of the Giglio Nero that’s not Gamma.

Yuni is also a child when she takes control of the Giglio Nero famiglia. One that sees the future.

It’s also said that the inherited power of seeing the future grows stronger with age. It is also said that bearing the Sky Pacifier weakens said power.

Yuni makes mistakes. She doesn’t say anything when Genkishi throws the fight. She doesn’t when Genkishi steals the Mare Rings to give to Byakuran. She doesn’t when she’s about to meet Byakuran.

Instead she gets drugged and manipulated like a puppet, effectively losing her famiglia in addition to her free-will to Byakuran. It’s implied that at least several thousand people in the mafia have been killed by Byakuran and his forces. It’s also stated that Byakuran will destroy the world, like he has multiple times in the future’s future.

Yuni says that while drugged she did something like Byakuran does when traveling to parallel worlds. She knows and has known for at least months what Byakuran’s done, is doing and plans to do.

She doesn’t start doing anything until about a month after future Tsuna has launched his time-travel scheme.

She knows how Byakuran’s powers work, knows about the Tri-ni-Sette and how to work it.

She doesn’t seal the Mare Ring despite having the ability to do so as Boss of the Arcobaleno. The revived Arcobaleno in the future do that.

It can be argued that Yuni was too young to know or too innocent but… you only have to look at her grandmother and what she did with the Arcobaleno to realize that Yuni is not a saint.

8. Spanner the Flameless

Spanner has a Flame. It’s not a fancy A-rank Flame like Shoichi, Gamma or presumably most everyone else shown using Flames except for the minions of Gamma and the minions of the Millefiore.

It’s mentioned he has a B-rank Flame.

No specific type is mentioned though. Spanner could have Earth Flames for all we know.

9. Nono Vongola

He’s a mafia don. Has been for most of his life when he wasn’t being groomed for it.

He’s sinned and smiled. He’s had children and raised them to be fine men. By mafia standards.

He’s also still on the proverbial throne despite being of retirement age and having grown successors. Who at the time were alive and capable if not great at what they’d do.

Nono also keeps secrets, even those that probably shouldn’t be secrets, like that entire mess with Xanxus.

Who despite being his adopted son that he loved, he left frozen for eight years.

Oh and who knows what happened to Xanxus’ mother. He could have had her shot or something.

10. Xanxus the rage monster

Xanxus is introduced as the villain. As the Varia Arc progresses, he’s shown as more of a monster, eventually resulting in the revelation of Nono in the Gola Mosca and using Tsuna’s attack on Nono as a method to force the Sky Battle to happen.

He’s bashed Squalo’s head into a table, thrown glass, threatened eradication of Tsuna’s family and all he cares for. He laughs at Squalo’s ‘death’ and kept Mammon in a birdcage nearby after Mammon lost against Mukuro. He even injured one of the Cervello to the point that she switched out of judging!

All of that points to him being an evil, irredeemable person beyond the whole leading the best assassination squad in the business and launching the coup in the first palce. Still as Basil mentions, in terms of ability and leadership, none of Nono’s sons could compare which is why so many people were for Xanxus being Decimo.

Xanxus kills people. It’s his job and he’s very good at it.

He doesn’t kill Tsuna and his Guardians. He doesn’t leave the Ninth to die of dehydration/exhaustion when Nono had been in the Gola Mosca for over a week.

He still arranges for transportation to Japan for him and the Varia. He acquires Nono somehow. How Xanxus gets the Gola Mosca is explained in X-fiamma but it involves stealing the plans from military turncoats that were pissed that Ottabio who was Xanxus’ Cloud Officer and Nono’s plant in the Varia had double-crossed them. Xanxus promptly murders Ottabio. He arranges for a body double of the Ninth to be brought in, for the Ninth’s Guardians to be elsewhere. For the CEDEF to do things that culminate in Iemitsu getting shot,

I should point out that Squalo wins most injured in the Varia arc, followed by Lussuria who is going to be bedridden for some time, Lambo, Nono who’s in the same boat as Luss but with less bloodloss and more exhaustion, Bel with the leg in a cast, Basil who heals up in a few days, then it’s Gokudera who pretty much is all self-inflicted during training and then Iemitsu who got shot. After him is Ryohei’s broken arm and Yama getting a few cuts.

Xanxus does terrible things but he’s strategic about it and knows how to manipulate things to his advantage.

The lack of death is pretty much why I say that the Varia Arc while awesome is almost completely contrived and not what it appears. Again, I iterate Bel deciding not to kill Gokudera during the Sky Battle. Gokudera was still poisoned at the time and helpless. Very easy prey but Bel’s like no, I’m gonna get to Mammon and take the mist-girl hostage when I already have the Smoking Bomb here.

From Tsuna’s perspective the Varia are there for Xanxus and the Rings.

From a wider perspective, the Varia Arc doesn’t make a lot of sense as some details are… off. Like Bel not killing Gokudera when Bel purposely goes hunting hitmen for fun. 

Gokudera has plot-armor.

Party Girl Alex and Detective Dimples 1

Summary: Maggie and Young Alex fight outside of a nightclub.

AN: This is probably a one-shot. But who knows.

“Alex, come back inside please.”

“I already told you, Maggie. It’s been swell, but I’m not interested.” Alex pulls roughly at the door handle of her car, only to groan in aggravation when it doesn’t budge. “Nice,” she mutters sarcastically, patting her jean pockets in search of her keys. It was way too cold to be in front of a nightclub arguing with a virtual stranger. Drunken clubbers were shuffling all around them; a couple of 20-somethings were enthusiastically making out against a sedan two parking spots away. And the hard bass radiating from inside the lounge was making it hard to stand up straight. Alex had to lean against the car door for support.

Maggie eyes her worriedly, both hands stuffed into her jacket pockets. “Come back inside and let me call you a cab.”

“No, thank you.”

“Well, at least let me give you a ride. You can’t drive home like this.”

Alex laughs at the offer, a line of translucent, white air spilling from her lips. She lets her purse slip from her shoulder down to her wrist before leaning forward toward the shorter brunette.

“I said I’m not interested,” she enunciates.

Maggie runs a hand through her hair, partly irritated and partly annoyed by the intoxicated brunette. “Would you get your head out of your ass for two seconds, Princess? I’m not hitting on you.”

Alex snorts disbelievingly. “If you’re not hitting on me then why are you out here?” she questions, eyebrows rising curiously as she stares at the other woman. “Following me to my car uninvited is a little forward, don’t you think?”

Maggie smirks a bit, impressed by the other woman’s gall. “I know this may sound like a radical idea to you, but I’m actually trying to help.”

Alex rolls her eyes. “Yeah, sure you are.”

“Look,” Maggie starts calmly. “If you want to leave, that’s fine. I’ll help you call a taxi. Or I’ll walk you to a bus station. I’ll even drive you home myself.” She raises her eyebrows a little and dips her head, a pleading sort of gesture if there ever was one. “But I’m not going to let you try to operate a two-ton vehicle when you can barely stand up straight,” she finishes.

“I’m fine.” Alex waves off the other woman, trying to shake away the light feeling in her head. “I just need to find my keys, okay.”

Maggie blows out a long breath, eyeing the taller woman exhaustedly.  Maybe she’d said the wrong thing. Sometimes she could be insensitive without trying to be or read signs incorrectly. One of the most prominent traits about Maggie was simply that she was less affected than other people. And sometimes that came off as being less understanding, less empathetic. “I really don’t know why you’re freaking out right now. I thought we were having a good time inside.”

“We were having a good time until you made it weird, Maggie.” Alex crosses her arms defensively.  “Anyways, I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

“Whatever. Fine,” Maggie concedes, pulling her hands from her pockets and holding them out in surrender.

Alex nods in acknowledgement before shifting her attention back to the search for her keys. Quickly she unsnaps her purse and starts wading through its contents. Maggie watches on for a few seconds before deciding on a different route.

“You know I’m a cop right?” she begins casually. “As soon as you crank up that car, I’m just gonna arrest you for operating a vehicle while under the influence.”

Alex glances up from her purse, a disbelievingly humored look on her face. “Wow, you really are desperate, huh?”

Maggie rolls her eyes. “You still think I’m trying to flirt with you?”

“Oh, you definitely are,” Alex laughs, pausing in the search for her keys. “I just have one question though, Detective Dimples—“she pauses to snort at her own joke. “If you’re a really cop, where’s your badge. Where are your handcuffs? Impersonating an officer to pick up chicks is against the law, you know.”

Maggie scoffs, slightly offended by the suggestion. “You are a piece of work.” She reaches into her back pocket pulling out her badge and pushing it toward the other woman. “I could arrest you right now. One, for trying to drive when you’re obviously under the influence. Two, for contempt of an officer. And three…well three because you might just be the most annoyingly cocky drunk girl I’ve ever met.”

Alex leans in to examine the badge, stumbling slightly in shock (and inebriation). After a moment or so, she starts rubbing her hands together to keep them from shaking. It’s cold out, and she’s sober enough to realize she just called a cop “Detective Dimples”.

She sputters indignantly when Maggie reaches for her arm.

“Y-You can’t arrest me! Title 14:98 clearly states that I have to be operating a vehicle while under the influence,” Alex flails her arms a little. “I can’t even find my keys.”

Maggie blows out a breath before narrowing her eyes at the other woman. “How many DUIs have you gotten that you know that Title by heart?”

“I haven’t gotten any DUIs, you jerk. I just think people should know their rights,” Alex murmurs the last part before crossing her arms. Maggie eyes her for a moment, humored.

“You’re such a nerd.”

“A nerd?!”

“A nerd,” Maggie affirms, pushing her hands back into her pockets to shield them from the cold. “Are you a law student or do you really just memorize statutes for fun?”

When Alex only shifts uncomfortably, Maggie smiles, raising her eyebrows in muted surprise. “So the latter, huh…that’s kinda cute.”

“Whatever,” Alex waves off the patronizing compliment, decidedly not meeting Maggie’s gaze. The shorter brunette continues talking anyway.

“I wasn’t trying to arrest you, by the way.”

“Then what were you trying to do?”

“I was gonna re-offer you a ride home, you dork.” Maggie smiles genuinely, and the older woman’s resolve cracks just a little.

“I really don’t need one,” she breathes out softly. It’s so cold outside she can see the tiny particles of air briefly suspend in front of her face before falling away. “At worst, I’m a little tipsy.”

“Under the influence is under the influence,” Maggie declares, making the other woman sigh loudly

“Fantastic, you’re a boy scout.” Alex turns away from the bothersome cop to lean against the freezing cold hood of her car. With her eyes closed, she mutters quietly but loud enough for Maggie to hear, “I still think this is your way of flirting with me.”

Maggie rolls her eyes for what feels like the 80th time tonight. “I’m glad you have such a high self-esteem.”

“You know,” Alex continues anyway, her head still lying against the hood. “Threatening to arrest me just so I’ll get in your car isn’t winning you any points.” She lets the words hang for a few seconds before abruptly adding, “Also, I’m not gay.”

“You don’t need to tell me twice,” Maggie shrugs again, pushing her bangs away from her eyes. “Now, are you going to keep moping or can we leave?”

After a long moment of silence, Alex finally rights herself and faces the other woman. “Fine,” she concedes. “Where’s your car?”

doublerainbowlover  asked:

Jaytim NUMBAH 7! FAKE DATING!! ༼ つ ◕_◕ ༽つ

Thank you!! <3

I’ve been sitting on this since this morning (I’m making dinner as I write) and I have 3k+ words of another version that show just how rusty I’ve gotten with anything short. Look at this! These paragraphs would’ve each made a nice little chapter, written out, wouldn’t they have? This could easily have been a 10k mulitchapter Fake Dating Story :’D (I love and hate it at the same time)

Anyway, it was really great being prompted! It’s so much fun writing like this <3

[Read on AO3]

Jason Todd was kneeling, offering a ring to him and all Tim could think of was how to kill his sister without getting his ass kicked by her. Because Cass knew exactly how he felt about Jason Todd. And she knew exactly how to get Jason Todd to propose to Tim.

“It would not be a bad idea,” Bruce threw in.

“Nobody asked for your opinion,” Tim heard himself reply on autopilot. His mind was anywhere but here. Couldn’t be here, because if it was, it would’ve made him a stuttering, blubbering, blushing mess.

“Come on,” Jason grinned, “It’ll be great. Black Mask will be happy to have a nice, almost-legal way to launder money through Wayne Enterprises and I get to kick his butt.”

“We’re not involving WE.” Black Mask could THINK whatever he wanted to, but Tim would rather die than let anyone dirty Bruce’s legacy like that.

“Is that a ‘yes’?”

After some grumbling and negotiating, Tim finally sealed the deal. Of course, he did. It was a good plan. With the added bonus of Tim being able to spend time close to Jason.

A smug smile on his lips, Jason stood, grabbing Tim’s hand and pushing the ring on his finger in one, smooth motion. “Masel tov, birdbrain. Now we’re engaged. Make yourself pretty and don’t go cheating on me. I’ll call ya.”


Jason called. He called and Tim stood in front of his closet, needing two hours and a conference call with his friends to decide on what to wear. Because this was Jason. It was a mission, sure, but it also was Jason Todd. Tim’s Robin. The guy Tim had the most embarrassing crush on - which everybody seemed to know.

Everybody but Jason, hopefully. Sometimes, Tim suspected the other did know and just indulged him, but Tim had no proof for either. The only thing, he did know for a fact, was, Jason loved the theater.

Tim tried to focus on the performance, but it was hard not to keep staring at Jason. He’d cleaned up nicely, wearing a tailored suit that barely concealed the weapon he wore under his arm.

Jason had let him know it was for show, but it still made something in Tim boil. Jason wasn’t supposed to kill. But the world had been cruel to the boy Tim had followed across the rooftops of Gotham and that boy had grown up. Which had brought them to the current moment. And Jason sure had grown up nicely.

Tim jerked a little, feeling Jason’s arm sneak around his shoulders. It shouldn’t have been surprising; they were acting like a couple, but when Jason whispered in his ear, it was all Tim could do not to grin and clap his hands like a stupid seal.

He was happy that evening didn’t end with him looking like a total dork. Although Jason did glance at him strangely after he had gotten Tim to squeak. – In his defense, nobody really kissed his temple as nonchalantly as Jason Todd.


Tim only realized they had been on the second date much later. Getting breakfast after patrol shouldn’t have counted as a date, but the neighborhood was bad enough for rumors of the Red Hood to spread like a wildfire. So it made sense.

They knew Jason there, called him by his name and knew his order. Sandra, their waitress, winked at Tim once she had been done chiding Jason for not being at home at such a late (early) hour. It was nice, really. It still worried Tim how open Jason was in public, though. The Red Hood shouldn’t be seen laughing so hard his drink came back out of his nose again.

Smiling to himself, Tim did, however, book this as a personal victory. Jason had a nice laugh and Tim’s stomach did strange, tingly things whenever he heard it. And this time, Tim had even been responsible. That had to count for something, right?


After the third date, Tim wondered when he’d meet Black Mask. This was the whole idea, right? Making him open up to Jason in hopes of getting his money laundered by Jason’s new boy toy, right? But Tim was also pretty sure Black Mask didn’t much care for Robinson Park. And he cared even less for Jason’s home-made sandwiches.

Tim, on the other hand, had loved them. He’d loved the food and the hot tea Jason had brought and he’d been grateful for the blanket, too. If not for the blanket, he wouldn’t have had anything to hide his face in once Jason started to sing and make him sing along.

“You know what happens after the third date?” Jason had asked, standing on the steps of the manor.

Usually, Tim’s brain was faster than that and didn’t need Bart screaming in his ear later at night when Tim told his friend about the question. None of those dates had seemed all that work-related, but that didn’t mean they weren’t. Jason needed to be seen with Tim, that was all.

The question still kept Tim awake, feeling hot and bothered all night.


Jason called again when Tim was in a meeting. He didn’t leave a message, though, so Tim didn’t think much of it when he checked his phone during lunch break.

Not much later, the meeting resumed and Jason called another fifteen times.

The sixteenth time he called, he was already outside Wayne Enterprises, but he was also too late. By then, the police had already gotten the building surrounded, and Bruce and Tim and taken down the worst threat.

That night, Tim wasn’t able to sleep either; not knowing if Jason’s reaction had been instead or because of the press.

The hug had felt awesome, though. And Tim was pretty sure there was no space on his face Jason hadn’t kissed. Although that had to have been for show, right?


After that, Black Mask had been dealt with brutal and swiftly, and there was no reason for Jason to call anymore.

Tim missed it. He kept pulling out his phone, waiting for a call, a message, anything, really, that let him know Jason was still alive. He hadn’t seen the Red Hood on patrol either, but he had heard of him tearing through the bad quarters like no tomorrow.

Bruce was getting worried about Jason, too. Worried they might have to deal with him killing anyone or just plain becoming uncontrollable. Which was a laughable notion in Tim’s mind anyway; Jason had never been under their control. Jason was his own man and only did what he thought was right. If anyone could change the world – even if Tim didn’t agree with his methods – if anyone could change the world, it was Jason Todd. Jason had changed Tim’s world at least. For better or for worse.


It was Cass who started it and it was Cass who ended it, too. She had watched Tim sulk for three days before she sat down next to him on the bed.

“Why haven’t you taken it off?”

“I don’t know,” Tim replied, turning the ring on his finger. It was a lie. He did know, but it was a childish dream he had dreamt for the better part of his life. Ever since Robin turned back to smile at the little boy with the camera.

“You do know,” Cass said, a smile in her voice, “A phone goes two ways, right?”


Tim didn’t call Jason then. Tim didn’t call Jason the next day either, but he did call the day after that.

“The planetarium does a show this weekend,” he started.

Jason took his time replying, making Tim sweat even more. Maybe this had been a mistake; Jason hadn’t called him anymore after the mission had been completed. After the reason for them hanging out was gone.

“You don’t need to–”

“– I want to,” he interrupted, knowing exactly what Jason had wanted to say. He could hear his voice clearly in his mind, could hear how Jason would degrade himself and point out all those other people Tim could call instead. But he didn’t want to go with anyone but Jason.

On the other end of the line, Jason typed audibly, his voice strangely rough when he finally answered. “There is no show this weekend.”

Biting his lip, Tim steeled himself. “There is if you have enough money.”


“You don’t have to, but I, um.” Thumbing the ring on his finger, Tim knew he was fumbling. He needed to spell this out, even if it meant Jason would hang up on him. Even if Jason– “It’s a date.”

“Tim, you don’t have to go out with me anymore. There are people out there who are better for you.”

“Yes, maybe,” Tim conceded. “But they’re not you.”

There was nothing for almost a minute. Taking the phone off his ear to check it, Tim almost missed the wet sigh on the other end.

“It’s a date,” Jason finally replied, his voice breaking.

“It’s a date,” Tim echoed. “A real date this time. Make yourself pretty and don’t go cheating on me. I’ll call you.”

But Darling Can’t You See I’m Laughing? by @aekyon


(Hey it’s me again!

I wanted to try something different and here’s the result. I like Tsuna and all but the others characters deserve love too! Today’s treat lover is Xanxus! It’s two pages longer than Tsuna wow.

This time the reader is kind of… peculiar. Don’t be fooled by her nonchalance, she’s a weird psychotic. Also I can see the Varia being huge dorks around each other but when it’s time to work, save your jokes for later.

Idk if I should put warning in there since most scenarios are dark but just in case: strong language, sexual innuendo and violence which somewhat goes a little graphic at the end.

Yes the flying pony is Dino.

Enjoy :D)

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“Gosh your Boss is so hawt Little (Name) you’re oh so lucky to see such a handsome creature every day… Say  will you hate me if I slept with him~??”

You said nothing. The woman in front of you puffed her cheeks, arranging her hair and make-up before turning to you.

“How boring! You could at least pretend to be angry or shocked instead of remaining emotionless, you remind me of that mint-haired cutie behaving like that,” she grabbed your face, her perfectly manicured nails slowly digging into your skin, “then again that’s an assassin for you! So calm and collected! Do you ever feel anything?”

The brown-haired woman added no more and finally let you go. She offered a sympathetic smile, the kind reserved for small, pitiful animals.

“A n y w ay, that’s it for today. You may go now. My own bodyguards will handle the rest.”

“I teased you enough for today now get out.”

You nodded not bothering to wait for any further indication as you knew the only thing in her mind right now was Xanxus.

A sigh escaped your lips as you let yourself fall on the ground, your back pressed against the door.

“Why do I have to take care of such a brat.”

The woman’s name… What was it again? You sighed once again, vaguely remembering it ended with an a.

Anyway, that woman was the precious daughter of the only heir of a powerful and resourceful family.

That’s what they claimed at least. Reborn didn’t seem convinced but until their investigations proved anything, the Varia was to take care of the negotiations, something you found pretty weird since said Varia which you were part of was composed of assassins and hardly any diplomats.

Honestly though, none among you could handle negotiation.  Could you picture Squalo or Bel at the job? No way.

“It’s as if Reborn is dumping her on us so we can take care of this family as soon as they’re proved to be useless.”

You still had to wait for Sawada Tsunayoshi’s approval though.

Now, why were you the one in charge of this annoying princess?

Despite the doubts clouding on everyone’s minds, she still was a potential soon-to-be ally. Her safety was to be guaranteed especially since her family has been the target of countless rivals. She obviously had her own bodyguards but since you all had to treat her… decently, it was decided that a notorious assassin of the Vongola would take care of her.

This is where the fun began.

When she arrived, that woman had absolutely refused to be seen with both Levi and Lussuria, claiming they were creepy and gross.

You swore Lussuria cried and Levi plotted murder.

Xanxus didn’t even pop up as a potential candidate. He still had to go through her visits on a daily basis though.

Squalo couldn’t because of his numerous tasks but you were pretty sure he wouldn’t have taken care of her anyway.

Bel had mysteriously vanished that day and only came back three days later.

As for Fran, well…

That woman found him cute and pinched his cheeks.

Fran avoided her ever since.

“It’s been three days already give me a break.”

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One of the perks of the Varia headquarters? You had a huge, magnificent bathroom connected to your own huge, magnificent room.

When you stepped out of the shower with your (h/c) hair still wet and opened the door to your room, you weren’t surprised to see the squad had once again gathered.

You knew buying a sofa for your room was a good idea.

It was also a good thing you already changed in your nightgown.

“(Name)-senpai is completely wet~”

“Fran… stop it.”

The illusionist apologised in his usual monotonous tone. Bel who sat next to him catcalled but was soon reprimanded by Lussuria. Levi was once again completely absorbed by the content of your magazines, especially the parts about love.

It was as lively as always.

“Come here (Name) I’ll blow your hair dry,” Lussuria offered, hair dryer and comb already in hands.

“Ushishi I’ll let you blow something else Princess—“


Cue Lussuria smacking Bel with your comb and the Prince seemingly fainting.

“… well thanks Luss,” you sat in front of him and shivered a bit as you felt the fresh air on the back of your neck.

“How is (Name)-senpai doing? Isn’t she mad at the woman for throwing herself at the Boss? Even though (Name)-senpai and Boss had a huge fight and Boss could cheat on (Name)-senpai at any time? Or maybe he already did. Ooops.“

Lussuria gasped, “Fran I told you not to mention that!”

“It’s fine Luss,” despite the statement you still pouted and pinched Fran’s cheeks, “I’m doing fine. Also, this is punishment for my little Fran who doesn’t like having his cheeks pinched~”

“I don’t mind if it’s (Name)-senpai~”

“Aw aren’t you two precious?,” Lussuria cooed, “It would look cuter if both of you actually smiled though.”

“We’re cute but (Name)-senpai is pretending she’s not worried so she’s cuter. Or dumber. Say, are you cute or dumb senpai?”

You pinched his cheeks harder.

“Alright, maybe I am a little worried. He could cheat on me at any given moment… but I feel like he won’t. Even though he as the worst temper ever, get mad whenever Decimo is close—“

“Or us, the flying pony, the bomber, the cow, Master, and—” Fran counted.

“… yeah he’s a little possessive isn’t he? Still, my point is—“


Fran hid behind Lussuria. Levi jumped. And Bel came back from the death.

At least that’s how it looked like.

Squalo looked beyond pissed. It’s been almost one hour since he sent someone to fetch you all but he couldn’t find any of you.

He should have known they would be in you room.

“You guys are ALL coming with me RIGHT NOW,” he screamed, leaving no room for argument. The swordsman then turned to you, “As for you, someone’s here to see you. DON’T MAKE THEM WAIT.”

“Wow must be someone important then,” you thanked Lussuria again for you hair and put on a cardigan, “Where are you all going? I feel like I’m always missing the fun…”

“Showing some hospitality to our guests.”

You looked up and your eyes instantly met the others’.

So this family was useless in the end.

The atmosphere quickly changed; if you and the others had been carelessly playing around minutes ago, right now, everyone was silently fighting over who will get the heir’s and his daughter’s heads.

Only you was pouting.

“It’s unfair… I’ve been taking care of that woman since the beginning, surely I ought to give her a proper goodbye too!”

“Ushishi~ (Nickname) is angry; her mist is showing~”

You blinked and looked at your hand. Indeed your ring was glowing.

“Well she was the original replacement,” Levi scoffed, ready to head out, “Rest reassured there will be nothing left. I’ll start with her guards.”

“It sounds booooring but I’ll do it instead of (Name)-senpaaai,” Fran added, soon followed by Bel.

“Maybe I’ll find some cuties to add to my collection~,” Lussuria sing-sang, “Should I keep that brat’s body somewhere for you should I get her first?”

You scoffed, “Nah it would be a bother. She would be a waste of space in your room. However,” a grin soon appeared on your face, “Could you get her nails?”

The Sun Guardian gasped, “So she really did SRATCH you cute little face, I thought it was the result of a mission.”

“They were annoying,” you pouted once again and surely, Lussuria squealed then gasped again.

 “Anything for my little (Name)!”


“Yes yes…”

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“… how rare.”

The man in front of you smiled. His sweet brown eyes could have melted your heart hadn’t someone else already took care of it. He softly took your hand and placed a soft kissed on top of it.

You stared.

“Aaah why did you do that Decimo? Now your secret fans are going to kill me~”

“They couldn’t even if they tried”, Tsuna added, obviously amused, “I wouldn’t let you get hurt anyway my dear (Name).”

You hid your face behind your hands in false embarrassment which made Tsuna chuckle again.

“I wish you would take me seriously though,” he sighed, closing the distance between you two.

“Alright, back to business,” the girly tone you had used was replaced by your usual nonchalance, “As much as Decimo likes me, he didn’t come here just to see me in my nightgown right?”

“And what if I did?”

“That’s problematic Decimo,” you crossed your arms, “You see, my Boss is a rather possessive man.”

“As expected of Xanxus’ little shadow… or should I say fiancée?”

You blinked and actually blushed at the statement.

Tsuna was quite pleased to see your flushed face for a change. You weren’t as emotionless as Fran but you seemed to keep those adorable faces for Xanxus only.

That just couldn’t do with him.

“I’m used to your flame already, there’s no need hiding it, though for the sake of this mission maybe it was a good idea.”

A purple mist circled around your finger, slowly vanishing and allowing anyone to see your engagement ring. Ring which, contrary to many people’s belief, wasn’t thrown at you out of nowhere.

Xanxus had actually put in on your hand after making a mess of you.

“I wish I did this because it was necessary,” you sighed, “Actually I had a fight with him before we got this mission which is why I covered the ring. It’s a punishment.”

“I see… then maybe I should comfort you since you’re sad?”

You hadn’t replied that the both of you heard high-pitched screams and gunshots from the mansion.

“… That was my fiancé telling you to back off Decimo.”

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You figured Tsuna dropped by only to mess with Xanxus. And give Squalo more tasks regarding the remaining of the useless family.

You and the Decimo had a peculiar relationship, playing house when it obvious that each of you only felt platonic love for the other. Tsuna may have been a flirt, you knew he wouldn’t desperately run after your just for the sake of winning you over.

Especially if tensions within the family could arise because of that.

The hall you reached was already spotless. Judging by the sounds from earlier, you knew Xanxus was in the room at the end.

“They cleaned everything quickly.”

You softly knocked on the door and went inside right away. Had Xanxus not wanted anyone in, he would have shot. Or thrown something. Or both.

You were greeted by the smashed face of the brown-haired woman on the ground. Truth to be told, the only reason why you recognised her was because of her hair which was the only thing left intact did you not count the fact it was burnt.

Her face had been completely destroyed. There was nothing on this bloody smashed flesh that could have been linked to her.

As for the rest of her body, you could see the burnt didn’t only apply to her hair though her lower body was replaced by a pile of dust.

When you looked up, you saw your fiancé enjoying a glass of wine as usual. As he put down his glass, he throw a small glass-like box at you.

You could easily recognised those bloody painted nails.

“… is it your way of apologising?”

Xanxus merely grunted. He motioned for you to come over, which you happily did so and comfortably lay on his lap.

Completely mewling under your fiancé’s touch, you took a look at the nails once again.

“Did Luss tell you about the nails?”

“… trash touched what’s mine.”

You actually squealed.

“Oh by the way,” you looked up to him, your hands resting on his torso, “Thanks for earlier. Decimo was getting a little close.”

Xanxus’ grip on your waist became firmer, “Then fucking stay away from him.”

“I can’t just do that, he’s still the Decimo,” you pouted, taking off your cardigan, “But I can’t forgive him for messing with us either!”

You blinked, a grin soon stretching on your face.

Xanxus could recognise that look anytime.

You had an idea.

A brilliant one judging by your face.

“… wanna make a mess in his office next time?”

Xanxus threw you on the ground, your nightgown already torn.

“Haven’t we done that already?”

Life After

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You know he’s the Winter Soldier, but you’re still going to follow him to the ends of the earth, because he’s just Bucky Barnes to you.
Words: 1,449
Warnings: language
Notes: for bxckybaby — i may have changed it up a bit but i can never please you anyway smh

Originally posted by thesafesthands

Keep reading

Past Life II

In an act of frustration, she shows up at his hotel door. For two days he has ignored her, shut her down, and glared at her. She won’t take it anymore. Her knuckles rap hard on the wood, twice, before footsteps from within finally signify that he’s coming to answer.

Whom he was expecting to see, it was clearly not her. Spencer begins to shut it once more, but she thinks fast and shoves her foot in to stop it. Her ankle throbs, but she intends to get to the bottom of this.

“What do you want?” he snaps.

“I want to know what’s going on! I’m not trying to make you mad, but you seem incapable of acting like an adult.” Spencer looks at her with nothing but disdain. “Are you going to answer me?”

“Honestly, you’re not even worth my time,” he says. “It won’t be long before you show them what you’re really like, and when that happens, you’ll be out of the BAU. So I don’t need to justify my actions to you. You never justified yours. Just leave me the hell alone, okay?”

An with that, he manages to slam the door in her face. Y/N stands in the hall, fuming. Is she angry with him? Or with herself? The last time she had to wrestle with this is a distant memory. As though the history belongs to a stranger. It was so strange, back then. She didn’t even know herself. She wouldn’t recognize herself.

After high school ended, that should have been the end of it. And yet, it has all come back. Like a nightmare she can’t wake up from. The door seems to mock her, and she slinks away in defeat, back to her own room.

He hates her. Spencer Reid most definitely hates her. The worst part is that she probably deserves it. In a moment of frustration, angry tears escape.

This is the job she has longed for. For years she worked as hard as possible with the hopes of someday making it to the BAU. Now, all she wants is to get away. To escape. Running away is what she has done best. In college, she made a promise to herself, that there would be no more running. No more cowardice.

Starting this job has been just like high school though. She is the new kid once again, trying her best to fit in, and feeling all the while that she’ll never truly belong.


She sees them whispering together, glancing her way. Her face burns, but she will not let them see her waver. This is the once shot she has to prove that she isn’t one to be messed with. As if her way of dressing doesn’t say enough, her actions must speak even louder.

Black combat boots march with purpose across the lunch room, her feet carrying her towards her target. There is a part of her that feels sorry for him. After all, he is only a child. Young. Frightened. Jumpy, in every sense of the word.

But this is high school, where the law of the jungle rules. This is survival of the fittest, and she refuses to be eaten alive. Full force, she slams into him, the bowl of chicken noodle soup flying up from the cafeteria tray and spilling all over his shirt.

“Watch where you’re going, dork!” she says. He looks up at her through glasses too big for his face. In his eyes, hurt is evident. His name is Spencer Reid. He’s in her art class. He seemed sweet. That isn’t enough to save him from teasing, and it’s not enough to sway her from saving her own skin.

“I-I’m sorry!” he squeaks.

“Why the hell is this kid here?” she asks, as though he isn’t right in front of her. “He’s not even tall enough to go on a roller coaster by himself!” The students in her vicinity laugh, and the boy looks down, embarrassed. Soup drips from his saturated shirt onto the floor.

“Are you going to answer me?” she demands. “Why are you here? Or are you too wittle to understand gwon-ups?”

He bites his lip, still looking away. More laughter comes from the tables.

“Are you going to go crying back to your mommy? What a freak! Ha!”

At that, he turns and storms off, practically running to get out of the cafeteria. As he goes, she does feel a stab of guilt, but it lasts only seconds. There is no room for guilt here. She is only trying to protect herself. Eat or be eaten. Tease or be teased. Perhaps she is safe now. Dominance has been asserted.

An older girl in a cheerleader’s uniform approaches her, a lip-gloss coated smirk on her face. “Not bad, new kid. Not bad at all. Say, do you want to help us with something? We’ve been planning a great prank on that kid for weeks, and we could use someone like you.”

Scratch that. There is no safety yet. Because if she has just cleared her name as a target, she has now been added to a list as “bully.”

Survival of the fittest. It’s nothing personal. Just business.

“Sure. What do you have in mind?”


In the end, she is the one who figures it out. That area of the woods is used biannually by the same Scout troop. The third week of March and of September is when they make their trip, and that particular week in September was the only week the unsub didn’t kill. Because he would have been previously occupied.

Of course, Y/N had to utilize Garcia’s skills to find out exactly what the area was used for and by whom, but she had a hunch that the particular location held a special meaning to him.

The troop’s leader, Marty Ferguson, fits their profile perfectly. He is a loner, has previous records of solicitation, and purchased several saws not long before the murders began. A year of medical school before he dropped out. A truck big enough to transport a body in.

Y/N goes with them to make the arrest, Reid is told to stay back at the station. His aggressive behavior has not gone unnoticed by the others, which has earned him a warning from Hotch. How is that fair? That she should be welcomed with open arms like that, while he is forced to just stand by and watch.

He hates her. He wants to hate her more, but there is still a whisper in his head that maybe he’s got it wrong. Maybe she’s not all that bad.

On the plane home, he sees her reading, completely enveloped in the book. It’s a familiar sight, the soft smile on her face, one she is unaware of making. Resentment rises in his chest, along with the bitter aftertaste of feelings he once held for her.

She can change so much. Her hair, her personality. Her actions. But she cannot change the past, cannot change the things she did.

Past, present, past repeating. History turns in cycles.

As they finish up paperwork that evening, everyone else joking around, save for Reid. Morgan emerges from his office, on his way home. “Hey, Y/L/N, that was pretty clever today. Checking the use of the dump site.”

A polite smile is her response. “Thanks, but was nothing, really. I’m learning from the best.”

“Rossi tells me you speak three languages? Impressive,” he continues.

“My parents traveled a lot. I picked them up here and there.” Like dust from her shoulder, she brushes off the compliment.

“And here I thought Reid was supposed to be the genius.” Morgan laughs, claps him on the shoulder as he passes. Reid tenses at his touch. He’s used to being the butt of the jokes, but this time it’s like a punch to the stomach. Knocking away his breath. “Watch out Pretty Boy, she might just give you a run for your money.”

The moment Morgan is gone, he grabs the next file in his stack and walks as quickly as he can up to JJ’s old office. It houses only boxes and musty papers now. Only after he closes the door, only after he is certain he is alone there, does he cry.

He hasn’t cried like this in a long time; the taunts and teasing of others has long since built up a shield for him. But this is Y/N, this is his past, and he feels like a child again. Lost, lonely, frustrated.

Nothing that is new to him.


At the age of twelve, he will graduate high school. He’s already been accepted to CalTech, with a full scholarship. All he has to do is survive one last year in this terrifying place. One more year of bullies and loneliness and anger. One more year without any friends.

Everybody knows him as a freak. They tease him mercilessly. But when the year begins, he sees a small possibility of hope. To fulfill graduation requirements, he must take an art class. It’s simple, Art Foundations. Some painting, some sketching. One unit on ceramics. The class is mostly freshman, students a little bit closer to his own age.

It’s in the art room that he first sees her. After all, she is impossible to miss. That shockingly pink hair demands attention. The expression on her face dares anyone to mess with her, though he sees her reading with the most gentle look. Perhaps she likes books better than people. Perhaps she’s like him.

A week later, he finds he’s started to think of her just a little fondly. Twelve years old and he is just starting to notice girls. Girls are not often kind to him. This girl might be different. He’s different, and he hopes that maybe their differences could draw them together. At least he would have a friend.

She reads Dickens and Foucault and Wilde and Whitman. She paints the most vivid pictures, so bright they are a few brushstrokes away from coming to life. When, on rare occasion, she smiles, it changes her features entirely. By the time he realizes this is a crush, it’s too late.

By the time he realizes her true intentions, it’s far too late.

It begins with the cafeteria, and the soup debacle. It progresses from there, when she helps one of the cheerleaders lure him into the gym with his shirt off. The entire senior class is waiting to make fun of him. Y/N calls him names, makes rude gestures, draws ugly caricatures of him in her sketchbook to amuse the other students.

That crush begins to truly crush him, making him feel so tiny and insignificant and unwanted. But sometimes he catches her with a book in her hands and a smile on her face, and he wonders…

When they make pottery, he spends two weeks perfecting a little bowl. Reid isn’t very good with his hands, but he tries his hardest. It is a small thing, not very pretty, unless you know what you’re looking at. It is in the shape of a madeleine, the tiny shell-shaped pastries that Proust wrote of. In Search of Lost Time is his mother’s favorite book. It is a gift for her, as Christmas is nearly upon them. And while it is no masterpiece, he feels extremely proud of it.

Y/N stops him in the hall, a gaggle of students flocking around her. “You can’t even make a bowl right, four-eyes. I thought you were supposed to be a genius! What the hell is this?” She holds it up above her cotton-candy hair. That neon pink has become a warning beacon to him. Signaling danger. “Look how ugly it is!”

Laughter emanates from her audience. “Give that back, please,” he says, his voice squeaking. “It’s mine.”

“Why would you want it back?” she asks him. “This doesn’t belong in anyone’s home.”

Yes it does. It would belong in the home he shares with his mother, who is slowly losing her mind. The small, golden bowl would be well-loved and well-used in their house of eccentricities. Mom would understand. Mom would love it.

“This belongs in one place. The trash.” Before he can cry out, beg her not to, she raises her arm higher. With the swift fluidity of a baseball player, she tosses the dish in a graceful arc, where it lands in the nearby garbage can with a heartbreaking clatter. That is the sound of his happiness shattering.

Y/N walks away proudly, like a victor, and the other students leave, sensing the show is over for now. Reid drags himself over to the garbage can, and musters the last shred of hope can hold onto to peer inside.

The bowl is completely broken, into dozens of small pieces. If he really wanted to, he could try to glue it back together; but he doesn’t have the strength left for that. Saltwater stings his eyes, and he wipes the tears away with his jacket sleeve.

He can’t give them another reason to taunt him.

He will go to the bookstore, and find his mom a new book. He will write a loving note in it, and she will inevitably lose it in her personal library. The dish would have been so much better. The dish is broken. His heart is broken.

Nothing is new.

anonymous asked:

I'm going to give you a cute request so you don't have to deal with sadness while you're sick :* Overprotective sweet dorks (Gom, takao & kiyoshi-your bae-) freaking out over seeing their scared s/o (you can choose whatever scared them :o it can be a mix of serious & silly). Thank you senpai!

YES YES. THANK YOU FOR THINKING OF ME as I am currently wrapped like a burrito under my blankets. 

Aomine: You looked like you were about to cry - your face a sickly, pale white as you came out of the bathroom. “Babe, what’s wrong?” he asked, noticing how quickly your cheerful mood left you. You were borderline shaking, your hands were trembling by your side. He rushed up next to you to touch your shoulder delicately. “Babe?” he questioned again. “Dai, I’ve forgotten to take my pills,” you responded shakily. “What pills?” he asked nervously. Oh god. The last thing he had to know was that you were diagnosed with third-stage liver disease and you were going to die if you didn’t take your pills and… Your voice cut across his running imagination. “Birth control pills, oh my God Dai, and we just did it yesterday too. I’m going to be PREGNANT. IN COLLEGE. AN-” Now this time it was his chance to shut you up. “If you get pregnant, I’ll just take care of you, no big deal,” he said, rolling his eyes. He picked you up, bridal style, and headed back towards the comfortable couch. “Scared me shitless for a second there.” He paused, “Oh, and that weird tea you always drink? Your mom told me it helps with birth control.” 

Midorima: “Shin, I’m scared,” you whispered into his collar early that morning. It was the day of your law school exam, and this was the determining factor for your future. In the past week, you weren’t even able to swallow your food correctly, never mind study. You could only hope you were prepared enough. Midorima, however, didn’t help the situation by abruptly sitting up in bed, and throwing your head off his shoulder. “I’ll be right back,” he said, swinging his legs off the mattress and walking his way to his office, where you heard a bunch of objects being clattered around the floor. He returned with an armful of dream catchers and a stuffed turkey, which you presumed to be your lucky item. “Just fall back asleep, ____. These will help with nightmares,” he commanded. Annoyed, you threw the pillow you were sleeping at his face. You couldn’t believe he didn’t remember. Because he wasn’t wearing glasses, he couldn’t dodge the white, fluffy piece of mass. “SHINTAROU, I HAVE A TEST IN THREE HOURS. I CAN’T SLEEP.” 

Murasakibara: Atsushi was prepared to dig into the souffle you had made for him, but his purple eyes instantly perked at your nervous expression. You seemed, quite frankly, scared. “____-chin, you alright?” he asked. You only gulped and nodded nervously. Just as he was about to slice his fork into its surface, you stopped him with an intake of breath. “____-chin, you didn’t poison me, did you?” You shook your head fervently. Atsushi immediately appeared concerned. “What’s wrong? Your face is wrinkly because your eyebrows are creased together.” You closed your eyes, and confessed, “I think I accidentally used expired cheese in your souffle.” His purple eyes widened. “I JUST REMEMBERED IN THE CAR. I’m so sorry Atsu-” The boy simply spooned himself a large chunk of souffle. “It tastes fine,” he acknowledged, munching pieces between his teeth. Two hours later, his stomach wasn’t fine. 

Kise: “Why do you look so nervous, ____-cchi?” your boyfriend asked your awkwardly shifting frame. You were about to leave his modeling shoot, but the group of growing teen girls outside were making your nervous. In fact, some comments you overheard were particularly mean and downright nasty, aimed at you because you were Kise’s girlfriend. The worst ones were about egging your car or leaving threatening packages at your house, though, but you didn’t want to worry your boyfriend with that. “Nothing, haha. I’m just…a bit cold that’s all,” you said, bouncing on your heels to hide your nervousness. “Cold? You want my jacket? I don’t want you getting sick…” He followed your eyes towards the doorway and noticed the growing crowd. Something flashed behind those topaz eyes. “I don’t want you coughing or anything either,” he continued, wrapping his jacket around your frame and pulling you outside the door, his arm around your shoulders. “Last time, you got something particularly nasty and it stayed with you so long that I couldn’t even kiss you for a week!” You tried to shush him, but you couldn’t. He kept up the tone while taking you to your car, parting the crowd of people. “I won’t let anything happen to you, so if you ever need anything, just call me okay?” You nodded, and handed him back his jacket. “Bye _____-chi~!” 

Akashi: He noticed you stiffen visibly when you entered the elevator. As more people began to file in, your legs began to buckle. Immediately, before you could stumble to regain your balance, he swung you up in a bridal position, almost taking out an old lady’s head with your heels. “Excuse me, please exit out of the elevator. A person is in need of medical assistance.” When only a few shuffled out, Akashi, annoyed, began to bellow out. “Please exit out of the elevator. If you do not do as I say, you will all be pressed charges for not evacuating during an emergency.” At that statement, people began to file out quickly back into the concert hall. As soon as the air cleared around you, he noticed you regaining consciousness. “It’s just fucking claustrophobia, Sei,” you mumbled, trying to pull yourself together. 

Kuroko: You tried not to scream at the gruesome display in front of your neighbor’s house. It was dark, the night before Halloween, and as much as you expected that bloody hand to extend from out of the ground…you still screamed. Then, you heard the drop of something liquid right behind you. Turning around, you saw Kuroko’s vanilla milkshake on the ground. Your boyfriend’s eyes were wide open, staring at the thing on your neighbor’s lawn. “Wh-what is that, ___-chan?” Before you could respond, he took your hand and pulled you away. “Come on, let’s go,” he mumbled, leaving his poor milkshake behind. 

Takao: “I can’t believe you forgot the way to our car,” you muttered to your boyfriend, as you both continued walking down a shady street in the downtown district. In reality, this was not a safe place to be, especially for two teenagers when it was near midnight. The possibility of getting mugged was unnervingly likely. “I’m sorry,” he said, gripping your sweaty hand tighter. “I’m really sorry. I’m an idiot,” he mumbled, pushing a hand through his dark hair. You could tell he was starting to walk faster, eyes averting the homeless people on the sides of the street. “This way,” he whispered, maneuvering around a bus stop where a drugged old man sat. “Kazu,” you whispered urgently. “Kazu!” He shut his eyes a second longer and reopened them. “If we get mugged and hurt, it’ll be my fault. I know,” he said again. “Kazu, I just remembered I dropped a pin at our parking spot on my phone.” You saw him audibly breathe a sigh of relief. “Well…lead the way mad’am.” 

Kiyoshi: As soon as he heard your high-pitched shriek,he immediately dropped the game controller and rushed into the bathroom. You were on the floor, hair a dripping wet mess. “____, are you hurt?” He picked you up off the floor and onto your bed. His concerned, brown eyes skimmed over your body for any signs of injury. A second later, it focused on the growing bruise on your right kneecap. “Why didn’t you tell me you were hurt?” he asked. You were visibly confused, blinking rapidly at his sudden statement. “Wait, what? Teppei?” Kiyoshi took this as a sign that you weren’t going to tell him what had led to your injury, so he just simply reached from under the bed, pulling out some medicinal oil and gauze. “You know, if you don’t bandage it and keep walking on an injured knee,” he continued, oblivious to your confused expression. “You’re going to get hurt even more.” “Teppei,” you managed to force out, after your brain fully registered what was happening. “Teppei, I screamed because there’s a spider in the bathroom, and if you don’t kill it…” Suddenly, his bright, brown eyes snapped towards you with understanding. “Why didn’t you just say so in the first place?” You rolled your eyes. Damn it, Teppei. 

empty-puppet  asked:

Me again (sorry if I'm bothering you) but please tell me more about the whole Barry being kidnapped thing you mentioned in your last ask meme thing???

Why, yes, I absolutely can do that! Also, I was going to answer this in drabble form, and then… uhm, well, I accidentally ficced?? (Is that a thing?) So, er. Enjoy! (Pssst you’re not bothering me, I live for excuses to write stuff like this!)

(And if anyone else is wondering, the meme being referred to can be found in my headcanon tag – or here is a direct link to that particular ask)

Title: Fear Itself

Pairing: Barry Allen/Oliver Queen

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Violence, trauma, sexual themes

Summary: Barry gets himself kidnapped, and Oliver is at his wits end trying to get him back.


Fuck,” Oliver chokes out, tears prickling his eyes.

Beside him stands Felicity, who is clinging onto his arm, sobbing into his shoulder and Diggle, who just looks furious.

Oliver, though? Oliver’s feeling so many emotions at the one time that he can barely concentrate – concern, fury, heartbreak and he just- he needs Barry. He runs his hands over his face, letting out a shaky breath.

Of course, if Barry were there with them, his emotions wouldn’t be going into overdrive right now.

They’ve been led to an abandoned warehouse – a wild goose chase, of some sort. But, of course, the figure that they’d been chasing must have wanted him to be here. The fact that someone is trying to send him a pretty strong message is clear as day. On the table before them lie several photographs, and a note written in extremely messy scrawl, pretty much telling him to wait for further instructions.

As soon as he had clapped his eyes on the photographs, he felt sick to his stomach. Even from a distance, he could spot the red suit instantly, and it hit him like a blow to the gut.

Upon closer inspection, though, it’s even worse. Barry is completely bound to a chair, his face battered, bruised and bloody all over, but there’s a small part of Oliver that’s relieved at the fact that he at least seems aware enough to give the camera his best defiant glare. The rest of Oliver, though? The rest of him is screaming internally, because this just cannot be fucking happening.

Keep reading

Twenty Facts about Blake Belladonna (Compiled by Yang Xiao Long) (Bumbleby)

Blake bites into ice cream instead of licking it. When I tell her she’ll get brain freeze that way, she says if that happens, she’ll just have an afterimage get the brain freeze for her. (I was gonna tell her that wasn’t how it works, but then I realized that I have no clue if that’s how her Semblance actually works or not … but either way, I guess this means my girlfriend is one cool cat, huh?)

If you ask Blake, she’ll say that she’s a bit of a morning person. If you ask Blake in the morning, she’ll say something like, “Urrgggrrrrraaaaghhhh.” (The trick is to have a cup of green tea for her in your hand before you ask!)

Blake likes doing poetry challenges. We come up with a title, she comes up with – usually -something pretty impressive. (I once asked her for a poem about “How to Kill Yang Xiao Long” and she just smirked and said “With kindness.” What a great gal.)

Blake is really into the idea of planting a private garden. She says she wants a row of flowers for every color in the rainbow. (And I think she might just be sunny enough to make it work.)

One of Blake’s favorite things to do is slow-dance to songs with a really fast beat. Something about finding peace in the middle of chaos, she says. (Me, I just like dancing with her, that’s all.)

There’s a cemetery past the edge of Beacon, the kind with too little space for all the graves. Whenever we pass by it, Blake insists on a moment of silence. (Sometimes I wonder about who died – and sometimes I wonder about who didn’t.)

Blake says that when she was little, a snowflake landed perfectly on the tip of her index finger when it was lightly snowing, and she memorized how it looked before it melted. She’s spent every winter since trying to catch a matching one. (Personally, I think she’s already the special snowflake she’s looking for.)

Blake uses her arm-ribbons as makeshift seat belts when she’s riding Bumblebee with me. “If I die, I want you to be holding on to me, not the other way around.” (And if I die, I wanna do it smiling, soooo maybe we can work something out?)

Blake is really good at jump rope. Her current record is, get this, 228 skips. (I don’t know about you, but that sounds to me like a target to aim for!)

Blake never folds her clothes, ever, and yet somehow still manages to keep them 100 percent wrinkle-free. I asked her how, and she said, “Ninja tricks.” (Had that smirk on her face, too, the one where she’s barely smiling at all …)

Give her a canvas, a brush, and some peace and quiet. and Blake will paint you some of the best pictures you’ve ever seen – but only the outlines; only black and white. She says she’ll fill in the colors when other people give them to her. (Yellow, Blake, you’ve already got some!)

When Blake blows the seeds off of dandelions, she lays down on the ground to do it instead of plucking them like everyone else. “It’s not necessary to kill it, so why should I?” (And now she’s got me doing the same thing – dandy, huh?)

Blake’s … sense of attention? … is kind of reversed. She’s never bumped into anybody while walking down a crowded hallway while she’s reading one of her books, but while walking and not reading … (The record currently stands at 12 different people, one corridor, and I’m taking bets on when she breaks it!)

Blake can pick up any wind instrument you might care to name and – without ever having touched it before – play it basically perfectly after a few minutes figuring out where the notes go. She can also pick up any wind instrument you might care to name and look really silly making “phhhhhbt” noises and turning bright red. (Like I’m not gonna give her a standing ovation either way.)

Whenever we go to the beach, Blake picks up as many seashells as she can and passes them out to people she knows, saying “this shell represents some of your best qualities.” And then, when people ask her what that’s supposed to mean, she always refuses to explain. (Uh, as a quick side note, if anyone could help me figure out exactly how a purple and white conch shell and I are supposed to be alike, that’d be awesome.)

For the first three months we knew her, whenever we sent Blake a text with an emoticon in it, she always acted incredibly confused about what the heck “those little symbols” were supposed to be. Then one day I actually asked if she was being serious, and she texted me back, and I quote, “Of course I’m always serious. ;3” (And let me tell you, I haven’t told a soul.)

When she listens to music, Blake moves her ears – the kitty ones – to the beat. You’d think she was doing it on accident, except she never does so when people who aren’t in on the fact can see her. (The worst part is? I’m pretty sure I do the same thing with my eyebrows.)

Blake buys scented candles – basically every kind you can imagine. But whether pumpkin spice, lavender, chocolate, or whatever the heck “Cashmere Forest” is, she never actually lights them up until she’s taken the time to whittle them into the most detailed little sculptures I’ve ever seen. (And here I am, with just enough artistic ability to trace my hand and turn it into a turkey …)

Blake keeps a book of compliments she thinks up about different people, but doesn’t usually tell anyone about any of them. She says that she likes to save them for when people really need them. (My personal favorite so far is “You have the kind of eyes diamonds would sell their souls to be more like.”)

And, to top everything off, Blake Belladonna is the most passionate, most beautiful, most gorgeous, most talented, patient, artistic, kind, extraordinary person on the face of Remnant. (She’s also – and don’t tell her I blew her cover - a huge dork.)

the-green-quaffle  asked:

Wolfstar prompt: Remus is super adorable guy on earth. He is kind and gentle except he curses REALLY a lot. Sirius thinks it's cute but others may not. To protect Moony's honour, Sirius takes it as his responsibility; to cure Remus in very sweet way. Fluff pls! Thank you<3

  • Remus has the worst mouth ever
  • He can curse non-stop for ages
  • If he’s angry or sad or happy, doesn’t matter. He’ll be swearing.
  • This little personality trait would be fine if it didn’t get the other marauders in trouble with the professors. Who, by the way, never thought sweet, innocent Remus would even think of using that kind of language.
  • Once, Remus got irritated in potions and cursed under his breath. The professor had turned and thought it was James (who ended up getting a detention for arguing the fact).
  • James didn’t speak to Remus for the rest of the day after that.
  • The only one who thought it was hilarious was Sirius.
  • Coincidentally, he also thought it was the cutest thing in the whole world -and that included himself-
  • He liked the way Remus said “fuck you” while blushing and tugging at his sweater when he was embarrassed
  • or the way he scowled and said “what a twat” as he looked back at some student who accidentally bumped into him.
  • Even when Sirius explained all this to the others, they were unconvinced any of that could justify getting punished for it.
  • “DETENTION Sirius. I got DETENTION for that!”
  • “Well, we can’t exactly just go up to him and say ‘hey bud maybe stop cussing thanks’. He wouldn’t stand for it.”
  • Last time they tried to talk about his little problem he glared at them so dangerously they dropped it and never brought it up again.
  • James just shook his head, “Well something needs to happen! I can’t keep scrubbing cauldrons just because Remus has the uncontrollable urge to say ‘cunt arse motherfucker’. That’s not even the proper way to combine those words, Sirius!
  • After a few minutes of mulling it over, Peter finally piped up and suggested they make it so that he never wanted to curse again.
  • “And how the hell do we do that?” James asked.
  • “It’s like we’ll be training him. Every time he swears, we do something terrible to him. Like hex him or make Sirius kiss him.”
  • Sirius spluttered at this because “how dare you my kisses are amazing but that would obviously be horrible for me and there’s no way I’ll do that because I would definitely go too far and make out with him i mean what ew gross cooties I refuse”.
  • But James was already grinning and agreeing to this plan because he knew and Peter was rolling his eyes because “please Sirius be mature for once it’s just a kiss” and somehow Sirius is now required to constantly be next to Remus until his foul mouth is cured.
  • He’s sitting next to him in the dining hall, jumping every time Remus opens his mouth to say something, and walking with him to their classes, stiffly looking forward and semi-hoping Remus doesn’t make a sound.
  • Oddly enough, Remus isn’t cursing as much today, so Peter and James try their best to irritate him.
  • They trip him in potions and all his ingredients fly out of his bag
  • They push some poor first year into him, causing Remus to stare daggers at the kid
  • They even made werewolf puns throughout the last two classes they had with him
  • “Okay, I give up,” Peter whispers among the other three.
  • “Why is he cursing less today?” James looks inquisitively at Remus who’s packing his school bag.
  • “We should just drop it. Let him be,” Sirius was now damp with nervous sweat and had been jumping every time Remus opened his mouth.
  • “Nope, I have a plan.” James grins and not five minutes later, he’s shoving Remus and Sirius into an empty classroom and whispering “I actually have no plan. Godspeed.”
  • “wat” is all Sirius can get out before he’s face to face with Remus who’s glaring so hard he could possibly just be closing his eyes
  • “You three need to stop messing with me,” Remus says.
  • “I’m not messing with you!”
  • “Yes, but you’re still apart of this stupid little mission-”
  • “Wait, do you know what we’re doing? Is that why you haven’t been cursing all day?”
  • Remus is red now and he doesn’t look Sirius in the eye, “Yeah, I know about your stupid prank.”
  • “It’s not a prank, Peter just thought it would be funny if-”
  • “If you kissed me every time I curse? How hilarious,” Although Remus didn’t look as though he was all that amused.
  • “Er, we just-” Sirius rubs at his neck, “I didn’t think it was a good idea. They made me…”
  • “Of course,” And Remus looks inexplicably sad all of a sudden, “Kissing me would be horrible for you.”
  • “I never said that!” Sirius says before he can stop himself, which makes Remus look at him with a mixture of surprise and hope. “But, I mean, I just didn’t want to do it because, I dunno, you’re cute when you swear.”
  • Remus blinks before a warm smile grows on his face and he walks closer to Sirius, “So, you didn’t mind the kissing part?”
  • Sirius blushes, but holds his ground, and stares up at the other, “Not even a little bit.”
  • Remus grins, “You’re a fucking dork.”
  • Sirius stands up on his tip toes and brushes his lips against Remus’, “Don’t use such foul language, Moony.”
  • They both grin and wrap around each other, softly kissing and breathing in each other’s scent.
  • They only pull apart when Remus asks, “What should we tell the others about my little habit? The mission was obviously a bust.”
  • Sirius thought for a second before biting his lip, “How about this: you don’t curse around them anymore. You save all your swearing habits for me.”
  • Remus laughs, “And what happens when you hear me with that kind of language? Will you punish me?”
  • Sirius wraps his arms around the other tighter and nips at his bottom lip, “If you’re lucky.”
  • Not too surprisingly, Remus didn’t last a week. James’s got another detention for saying “eat shit, fucking twat” and refused to speak to Remus for two whole days.
  • Also not surprisingly, Remus didn’t even notice since he was too busy snogging Sirius.

HAHA WHY DID THIS TAKE ME FOREVER TO WRITE Congratulations, you have been blessed with my first wolfstar ficlet/headcanon! I have never written wolfstar before this so it was interesting to try to keep them in character (while also finding out how I characterize them). Thank you so much for the prompt!! It was fun to do <3