#(not first meeting but some point where they know each other??)

[dnvrsmedia]

Worth the Fight

Sevika x reader

a/n: no descriptive terms used for reader!

warnings: slight arcane act 2 spoilers READ AT YOUR OWN DIGRESSION, hurt/comfort, domestic!sev, isha & jinx mention!

word count: 2581

Adrenaline thumps with a high pressure through Sevika’s veins. She can feel her heart pumping so hard she wonders how it doesn’t burst through her chest. This is not what she expected when Jinx agreed to breaking into Stillwater. The place isn’t necessarily the most welcoming (even though she is very familiar with the prison) yet, a ten-foot-something killing beast was not on her bingo card. At this point she wonders why she has any expectations when Jinx is involved.

These past few weeks, Sevika has wondered if this is what will finally kill her. If all she ever has been good for has been a soldier. First under Vander, then under Silco, and now? She tries to keep hope, but all she can feel is despair. The dark and looming feeling felt thick in her throat like the gray. Decaying her insides until she asphyxiates on its rot. That is until she comes home to you. All of her doubt leaves her body once she steps foot into your shared space. The smell of your body wash mixed with the candles you always have lit immediately relaxes her. Her shoulders no longer feel like it's holding the weight of Zaun once she’s home. Meeting you has single handedly given her a new wind beneath her wings.

Throughout her time fighting for independence, she quickly realized just how insignificant her life is, or at least that’s what she’s been told. She is always putting her life on the line for the greater good. She stopped fighting so that she could live the life she thinks everyone else deserves. Hell, she doesn’t believe she deserves half of what she is fighting for. Sevika knows she has done some unsavory things in her past. Things she won’t ever forgive herself for doing. Gods, Janna knows she’s been nothing close to a saint. There are things she’s done that haunt her in her dreams, and she thought she has come to terms with this fact. The fact that not all is good in love and war. Not all of the horrors she's experienced and been on the other side of producing were necessary.

She never saw a life for herself post Zaun independence. Ever since she joined the fight, she's only seen herself dying alone in one of three places: in a fight, in the brothel, and at the end of a bottle. So she drank and smoked and gambled and fought her life away, because it's the least she could do. She fights so that the next generation doesn't need to skirmish with each other in the lanes. She fights so that not another kid gets orphaned by the mines or the chembarrons, or shit, even shimmer, but fighting for her own life never even crossed her mind. Who could blame her if that is all she’s known? Her deadbeat father didn’t teach her the value of her worth, that's for sure. So, why would she bat an eye at her reckless lifestyle? Unexpectedly, that all changed. She didn’t see herself as valuable until you came into her life. You and your unabashed love for her. You and the light you bring to every room you step in. You and your confidence in Sevika to come back home to you. If Sevika is one thing she is loyal, and fiercely loyal she is to you. So when her priorities lied loyal to you, she was forced to come to terms she never even dreamed of having. The sole idea of growing old and having a love like in the fairytales made her feel like a young girl again. Yet, this led to turmoil within her head. She now has to break down all of the things she’s barred herself from receiving, all of the chances at a semi-normal life. She now has to realize just how much she does want to live, and that is where her true fears lie.

Sevika didn’t start consciously fighting until you opened her eyes to what love is. She couldn;t deal with the heartbreak she brought you when she came home two weeks late after the blast. She will never forget the sobs of relief you made when she hobbled into your shared space, the horror in your eyes when you noticed her arm missing. No matter how frustrated and full of emotions you were, you never yelled. This is when Sevika knew you were it for her. Many times in her younger years did she disregard the advancements of genuine connections from others. She would meet someone, enjoy their company for a few weeks and then essentially ghost them. Only to return weeks if not months later looking for some fun. This never bode well with her flings; leaving constant screaming matches in her wake left her ears ringing with a headache. So when she essentially did the same to you (under different circumstances) Seviks assumed the same would be with you. Yet, to her surprise you stayed. She never understood how a gentle love found her. She spends her restless nights looking at the silhouette of your face, wondering how and why you chose her. Her whole life has been filled with loss and pain, gentleness is not something she has ever experienced.

“Sevika, take her and go!” Jinx cries as she tosses Isha’s small and frail body into Sevika’s muscular one.

Her eyebrows knit together as her body moves before her brain thinks. She must’ve frozen at the sight of the large beast slaughtering several Enforcers. With no second thought, her body is sprinting as fast as she can. The young girl in her arm (that she has started to grow fond of) lets out a series of cries as she tries to wiggle out of her protective grasp. Her cries drive Sevika to find a way out of the prison. The whimpers of the mute girl bore into her brain as memories of her as a young child resurface. The tears dripping onto her bicep keep her moving.

Sevika is unable to produce words to the young girl. She curses as she knows that the words and emotions were more of your thing. Sevika wants to comfort her and tell her that Jinx will be okay, but even she doesn’t know that for sure.

So, she tries to think of things you would do to keep Isha happy. How your gentle presence allowed for the orphan girl to have a liking to you. She tries to caress her head the way you’ve done when putting her to sleep, but the lack of another arm leaves it more difficult. The best thing she can do is ensure the girl's safety. Sevika shakes her head and digs deep in her bones for extra fuel. Her body aches and has been aching extra hard these past days, but giving up is not an option. So, she thinks of anything but the carnage she just bore witness to and the heaviness of her legs slapping against the harsh concrete. Images of rare late mornings with you start playing in her mind. The sleepy cuddles with you raking your fingers through her hair and caressing her cheek play like a bitter sweet movie. The face you made when she came home with Jinx and Isha follows next. The softness that overcame your features when Isha peaked from behind Jinx’s leg left a feeling in Sevika’s chest that she never felt before. Warmth radiated through her heart like turning on a heater on the first day of winter.These thoughts carried her from topside to your shared home in Zaun.

The heavy footfalls outside of your humble apartment left your blood fall chill. Flashbacks to when Sevika came back from nearly dying left your heart beat pumping triple time. The door flings open to see a disheveled Sevika carrying an almost identical disheveled Isha. Your heart sinks as you piece what most likely had happened.

“Baby?” Your voice cracks as you walk closer to assess damages.

Sevika tries to hold on for you and for Isha, but knows if she speaks, tears will come. So she resorts to grunting. She hands Isha over to you and walks to the bathroom. You gape at her for a moment before springing to action. It isn’t until you feed, bathe, and clothe the young girl until you see Sevika step out of the room. You take that as a sign that she is ready to speak and you carry the young girl to the couch. Isha is knocked out at this point, you assume the combination of her crying and all that just went on really worn her out. You give the girl one last rub on the back and leave her with a kiss to the forehead.

You pass the kitchen to see the plate that you had left for Sevika to have been gone and in the sink ready to be cleaned. A small smile adorns your face as you are grateful for the fact that she was able to eat. You grab two glasses and fill them with water for you to bring to your shared bedroom.

You gently knock on the door before opening to see Sevika staring out the window. You make your way over to her side of the bed and rest the glasses of water on the nightstand. She doesn't even notice your presence until a small ‘clink’ of the glasses takes her out of her trance.

“Baby, what happened?” You take a seat right next to your lover, raking your fingertips up and down her spine. You can feel just how tense her whole body is as she sits rigid like a statue.

A shaky sigh is let out from Sevika as her eye contact remains looking at the darkness outside. The two of you just sit in silence for a bit until Sevika is able to start from the beginning. She lets you know just how terrified she actually felt at that time, she lets you know just how weak she felt without her arm, and she lets you know how you and Isha were the only things keeping her going. She lets you know how you were her north star and how without you, she would have just given up.

“I don’t even know what I am doing anymore, babe.” A stray tear finds its way down her cheek.

“All I ever do is fight and I just don’t know how much more I have in me. I'm tired…I am so tired.” More tears silently flow against your lover's cheek, breaking your heart at the sight. You caress her cheek, wiping away the tears she was too lazy to do herself.

Tiny cracks in your heart open like bullet wounds at her admission of her thoughts. You’ve known this to be true for a long time, yet being the protector that she is, Sevika never opened up to you about it. It is now time for you to put your strong face on and pick her up when she’s low, just like how she’s done for everyone else her entire life. You turn her face to look at yours, your tender hand contrasting her firm jaw. Sevika is reluctant to show you her brokenness, but she is just too tired to care at this point. Her eyes look past yours, darting around the room to find anywhere but your eyes.

“Look at me, honey.” You caress her cheek in hopes to coax her out of her mental prison. Your patience knows no bounds and that makes Sevika feel things she can’t even start to comprehend alone.

Her eyes trail to your own, swimming with emotion. She sees her future in your eyes and it scares her. You give her an encouraging smile and she feels her walls cracking.

“I- You’ve made me realize the things that I wish I could have and it scares me. I had nothing to lose for so long, and now I have so much on the line.” Her eyebrows furrow.

“Seeing the way you’ve completely changed my life confuses me. I know I don’t deserve a life that you are making me dream of.” Your eyes go wide at her confession to you.

“I never gave myself the opportunity to even imagine a world where I’m not alone, you know? But that day I came home to you after the explosion…It confused me. You have been the only constant in my life and I guess it just really hit today.” She nuzzles her face into your palm as you kiss the top of her head.

“Baby, you it hurts me to know that you can’t see just how much you deserve.” You lean in so that both of your foreheads are touching. Your eyes never leave her puppy dog grays.

“Because you know I am with you until the end. You are it for me Sev, you hear me? Whatever it takes.” You can barely get out the last of your words before Sevika is kissing you with all of the energy she has left. She may not be the best with her words, but she needs you to understand just exactly how you make her feel.

The kiss deepens as tears shed freely between the pair of you. Your bodies pressing close to one another, trying to engulf each other to become one. It gets to a point where Sevika has to pull away to catch her breath, but she doesn’t let you go too far. She stares at you in silence, taking in every aspect of your being.

“I’m terrified because you make me want those things. Having Isha here and seeing how you take care of her…” Sevika turns her head in slight embarrassment.

A huge smile adorns your face as you try and not scare her from opening up.

“Do you mean?” You whisper, afraid that if you spoke any louder you’d jinx (no pun intended) yourself.

Sevika’s face is hot with awkwardness at her vulnerability. She hasn’t spoken these words aloud to anyone, especially yourself.

“I want to keep waking up to you and Isha making breakfast. I want to keep teaching her how to tinker and fix things. I want to come home from work to see you both dancing in the living room. I want to grow old with you, baby. Seeing just how quick all of that could have went away, Gods that fucked me up.” She uses her hand to tug her hair away from her eyes.

“You were the only thing on my mind. I had to keep going for you and Isha.”

And now it is your turn to start crying. Your tears freely fall for the love of your life. The privilege you have had to see Sevika grow into the woman who is sitting in front of you.

“I want all of that with you, are you kidding me? You’re the woman of my dreams babe. Whether you like it or not you’re stuck with me.” You laugh teary eyed and smile at the smirk your lover returns.

The two of you share quite giggles as you both crawl into bed. The day is finally settling and Sevika is definitely feeling its effects. You hold her in your arms and try to burn this into your memory forever.

“So…you wanna be Mama Sev, huh?” You tease and laugh at her body going rigid.

Taglist:

@ab2ysw1fe

@queenabrahel

@queenabrahel 

@caicreations

@caicreations

@arevik2345

@munsonsfairy

@moonlightnumbsthepainifeel

@sevikellsss

@whoreshores

@archangeldyke-all

[peppermintquartz]

I'm feeling bitchily critical today so. Let's get critical.

Reasons why Season 8 of 911 (so far) sucks:

Bobby and Athena are aimless

They have no house. The logical development is for them to look for one, one for their future. That is theirs. Where are the house hunting woes? The disageeements and compromises? Are they ever going to have a chance to find a place they both love? Or build one, even?

Athena's job description is all over the place

She's giving school talks. She's conducting traffic stops. She's escorting a prisoner across state lines. She is mentoring new officers. She's a goddamn Sergeant but what is her job scope? Every single thing requiring the presence of police, apparently!

Hen and Karen have little direction for growth

The Mara adoption issue could have brought out more of their relationship, developed them in terms of relying on each other through a difficult time. The storyline with Ortiz could have really delved into the struggles of the foster care system, and how Hen and Karen broke rules designed to protect the kids. (Seriously, if a child is removed from a foster family, it's logical not allowing the foster parents to meet the child that was removed for the safety of the child). Where was the appeal to Ortiz as a mother? Where was the struggle? Where is the tension between the Wilsons and the Hans? Instead there was a Deux Ex Gerrard. And I am not even gonna start on the whole "why didn't you take leave for Halloween" shit, that stuff should have been settled when Denny was a baby. What are their next steps? Same old same old?

Gerrard is a joke

An established bigot and racist returns. He could have been a great way to show how the 118 has grown beyond him and his bullying. Instead they're cowed by him, and lets him yell at Buck? Whatever happened to the "who cares" courage in Season 7? And he gets the reward of his dream job?

Eddie is still not healed

He emotionally cheated on his girlfriend with his dead wife's doppelganger. Has he even processed what that actually means? No! His son moved to Texas. Has he coped with the loneliness in his house? Who knows? Certainly not the audience, since we don't see him go to therapy or, hell, have a full breakdown! He confides in people who aren't his friends, let alone his so-called best friend! Bobby gave him a prayer book but we don't even hear Eddie rage at a God who keeps putting devastation and challenges in his way. What wa the point of the prayer book then? He just danced in his underwear and somehow that made him smile and now he's moving across the country and, what, giving up on his home and his job? Is that really healing, Edmundo Díaz? Or are you just running from the problem again?

Chimney has no internal or external motivation

He was providing for Mara for a few months. Was he stressed about it? Did he think about seeking a promotion for a higher salary? Also, he is an immigrant. Does that influence how he teaches Jee? Has he and Maddie, white suburban raised Maddie, ever discussed the potential problems Jee might face? Or whether they wanna include some Korean culture in Jee's education, since they gave her a Korean name? Does he ever think about any of these issues? Is he at all conflicted? What does Chimney want?

Maddie

She was the one who wanted to meet Tommy. Has she done so outside of the wedding? What was her opinion of him? Is Maddie content to stay in Dispatch in the exact same position? Has she any career ambition? And about Jee: does she never think about the Korean part of Jee? Connecting to her own culture? Learning Korean, maybe? That would have been interesting because perhaps she wants her daughter to connect to that part of her roots but Chimney doesn't, for his own reasons. Also, if she wants to have a second kid, why didn't she discuss it with Chimney outright before the pregnancy? Was she not taking the pill? Were they careless again? What would she do if Chimney didn't want a second child? Abort? Given how the first pregnancy was traumatic for the whole family, including her brother, this development is showing her to be pretty self-centered, frankly. I don't know this Maddie. She's not the same one that gave Buck her Jeep to escape, knowing that she'll be hurt by an abusive husband.

Brad

Why is airtime devoted to a character that is barely connected to the 118? What is the reason behind giving him so much focus? Is he supposed to quit acting and become a firefighter or something? What is the rationale for his existence?

.

.

And I haven't even touched on Buck or Tommy.

[fartcushion]

The Fart Room

When your gym crush invited you to a party he was throwing that evening you were ecstatic. You weren't even able toplay it cool, instead eagerly accepting.

He smiled at your enthusiasm and told you to be there for 19:00, and gave you his address.

Not only were you going to get to spend time with the guy you would secretly check out, but he said it was going to be attended by other guys from the gym so you figured it'd be a good chance to befriend them. Maybe get some tips on how they got in such greatshape.

*

You rocked up on time, you thought of being fashionably late after seeming too eager earlier. Butdidn't want to risk looking rude,

He opened the door with a smile when he saw itwas you

"Great you're here, come on in"

You entered his home, trying to make friendlyconversation as you kicked off your shoes. Listeningout you couldn't hear any music or any chatter.

"Am I the first to arrive?" It'd be a bit awkward, but at least you could meet each person as they came.

"Yeh, needed to get you in position before myguests arrived".

You paused, confused. "I'm sorry, what do you mean get me in position...and you mean 'other'guests?""

"What? No, mate. This is for my mates at the gym, you know, real builders. Not little guys like you. I mean other than you perving on me we have like no interaction. I invited you here to do us a service."

The amount of revelation stunned you. The admission he knew you oggled him, on top of the insults.

"What service?"

"Here let me show you".

He opened the door to a cupboard under the stairs,and gestured for you to take a look. Leaning in you could see that inside was a large cut out space. Big enough to stand on the end nearest the door, and on the other end, space to sit/kneel. What was more concerning was on the low end there was what looked to be a collar chained to the wall.

It was at this moment you were very aware of the muscular man stood behind you. Blocking your exit.A man you knew nothing about and willingly had entered his home.

"See we get together a lot and we learned early that when you get a lot of gym bros together there's a rather unpleasant smely issue. You know what it's like with all that protein. Wrecks havock on our guts and the farts are toxic. You can only hold them in for so long before it becomes uncomfortable. So for everyone to be able to party in comfort, but not stink out the place, we came up with a solution. The Fart Room".

Using his imposing size he started to push you into the cupboard.

We get some eager little guy from the gym, invite them round and put them in here. As the night goes on people need to use this room more and more.Y'know, the build up of protein shakes, broccoli and chicken diets and the beers at the party. They come in, let rip, and that nights recruit sniffs it all up".

By now you're fully in the room, being slowly pushed further back. You had to start crouching to avoid the ceiling.

"That's sick! Just go outside".

He rolled his eyes, annoyed at you wasting time. It's cold outside, can't keep opening doors to fart, everyone would freeze. Come the summer, we're all out there and don't want the wind blowing our wind back at us. This solution works all year round"

"Then just fart in here without a victim!" At this point your head smacked into the ceiling, the pain forcing you to drop down to your knees, where he loomed over you.

"Sorry, can't. The smell builds up and by the end we stink when we leave having marinated in it, and the gas escapes when you open the door. That's where you come in. You'll breathe it all up. It's better if you take it right from the source, to avoid it lingering. Best you do a good job from the start as well; as we get more drunk, we get a bit more aggressive with making sure we don't smell it; and will force your face in our cracks. He leaned down, reaching past you and picked up the collar.

"Sometimes people arent willing or try to escape. That's where this comes in". He held the collar to your face. "Will you need it? Or are you one of those fags that get off on this?"

"Please, l just want to go home".

"I don't care. Look, alone I can overpower you and chain you up. If you make me do that, l'l tell each guy to not go easy on you, and they 'll be rough. We're talking aggressively roided up blokes only too happy to let off some steam. Once the lock goes on you'll be at their mercy. So I would suggest you choose this". With that he unbuckled the collar and without protest put it tight around your neck.

"That's a good little fart filter. Now let's practice before the party starts".

He stands up, turns around, and lowers his shorts revealing his large muscular cheeks. Immediately you're hit with a sour pungent smell. Clearly if he did shower after the gym that day, he skipped cleaning his ass. Gently pivoting his hips his ass jutted out, inches from your face. Inviting you to come closer. You leaned in and as you felt his warm skin you were hit by the first fart.

BBBBBMMMMFFFF

It was quick, but loud and deep. The smell was as bad as he'd warned. You could smell the veggies he'd been eating. The surprise and stink made you instinctively pull away. Causing you to hit your head again in the tight space you were crouched in.

"Best get used to it, or if you keep flinching like that you'll leave here with brain damage. Though then again, maybe wouldn't be a bad thing, hit your head enough maybe you'll get amnesia and this can become a permanent set up. Would faggy like that?" He laughed as he wriggled his ass in front of you.

You didn't answer, so to fill the silence he let out a long rip.

BBBBBBBRRRRRRPPPPPPP

"Sniff that up, quickly, I'm get a hint of it up here"

To avoid any repercussions you leant back forward and sniffed the air vigorously. Reaching as far as the tight chain would allow you to reach, the collar strangling you for the effort.

"That's better, I think you get your job. Oh, and you may have wondered about the towel hanging here.  Well, sometimes the farts get a bit. ..wet. We try not to judge each other, these supplements can do sll sorts to your body. So if a guy sharts a bit, just wait until he's finished and when he's gone wipe your face ready for the next visitor"

As if knowing you were about to try one more time to object and plead to be released, he let out a final fart into your open mouth. As you coughed and spluttered, trying not to focus on the taste on your tongue, there was a knock at the door.

"Oh, here we go! See you later Sniffer!"

And he left, closing the door.

[asharasasylum]

But I'm a Creep

♡  Kidnapper! Choso x reader

author's note: I'm an idiot and accidentally deleted this so now I'm having to repost it. warnings: non con. dub con. kidnapping. tied up reader. sub choso. smut. gagged reader. 18+ MDNI

You whined as he wrapped his mouth around your abused nipple, tears spilling from your eyes at the painful sensation. It had been pleasurable at first, about an hour ago when you awoke to him fondling you but now your nipples were sore and tired from the constant sucking and licking being inflicted on you from your kidnapper. 

Kidnapper. The man that had abducted you. Someone that you barely really knew except from passing encounters at work. 

Choso Kamo was the last person you had expected this from. 

So he was a bit strange according to your co-workers. And there were a few rumours that you had heard about him through mutual friends. But you chalked it all up to him just being a little different, a bit of an introvert compared to yourself. 

From the moment he was hired five months ago, Choso had been a hard nut to crack. He barely talked, only offering you a small head nod as he strolled into the store. He preferred to keep himself to the stock room rather than help out front. It wasn’t till you had seen some girls from campus clearly staring and giggling at him a few weeks into the job, that you actually had your first proper interaction with him. 

The girls were being cruel, you could see in the way they stuck up their noses and eyed him out of the corner of their eyes. All while Choso was simply trying to fix one of the display stands. 

He clearly noticed them, fingers trembling as he fiddled with the stack of DVDs in his hand. But you could tell he was just trying to ignore them, hoping they’d possibly get bored and walk away. 

You couldn’t just ignore them, not when your blood boiled at the mere sight of what they were doing. Before you even realised it, you were standing in front of them, blocking their vision of Choso with a tight smile spread across your face. 

“Can I help you?” You asked, eyes flickering between each of the girls. 

They grew quiet, amusement dropping from their faces as they looked between each other. 

“Well if you couldn’t find everything today, I do apologise. But we are closing for the day.” You motioned to the door with a pointed glare. 

They all scrambled out of the store, muttering things under their breath that you didn’t care to hear before you turned to Choso. 

You crouched down to where he was still fumbling with the DVDs, noticing the tinge of pink that covered the tops of his ears. 

“You okay?” You asked, reaching out to place your hand on top of his. 

He snatched his hand away, finally turning to you with a flushed face. 

“Sorry.” You smiled at him, taking your hand back. 

“I-I’m fine,” he nervously laughed, nodding his head. 

“Did you know them?” 

“Uh-them?” He pointed to where the girls had been standing and you nodded. “Um-no. I-I guess maybe in passing.” He swallowed, eyes meeting yours for a second before flickering away.

“They’re dicks,” you told him, hoping to lighten the mood. “Best to just ignore them.” 

“Y-yeah,” he agreed, before returning to what he had previously been doing. 

You hadn’t really expected a change in your relationship after that but Choso seemed to warm to you. But the next day, he actually spoke your name, greeting you with a small smile before he went into the back. 

You and Choso had small interactions after that, but nothing that would make you think he would do this. 

The guy could barely speak two words to you last week. His eyes barely ever directly looked into yours and he nervously stuttered every time you thanked him over a simple task. The only conversations you had consisted of two words from him so to think he could do this? That he had harboured some sort of crush on you. 

The possibility had never crossed your mind. It only seemed reality as he nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, licking at the subtle skin he had spent time marking up. 

It was only hours ago he had offered you a lift home from work and now you had found yourself with your wrists tied to his bed, completely naked underneath him. 

“Please,” he whimpered, sucking at the skin of your neck. “I need you so bad.” 

You barely registered what he was saying, too focused on the way his fingers were sliding over your soaked folds. He clearly knew what he was doing, making you a wet fucked out mess before you’d even been able to cum. It had you wondering if he had been with a girl before, if the way he acted in the store with you had all just been some sort of act. 

The thought was pushed away as soon as he whimpered again, pressing his wet cheeks into your neck. “I need you to need me,” he said, almost on the verge of sobbing. “Y/N.” 

The mere mention of your name had you peeling your eyes open, only to find yourself fighting off shutting them again when his fingers pressed into your clit. You hissed at the sensation, trying to bite down the noises that were stirring in the back of your throat. But it was near impossible when his fingers prodded at your entrance, threatening to force them into your walls. 

You tried to protest against him but your screams were muffled through the cloth placed between your lips and with your hands tied there was nothing you could do. 

Your toes curled when he forced two fingers into his entrance and even though you cried against the cloth, you knew he could feel your walls sucking him in. Especially when you felt him smile against your skin, lifting his head so he could look at you. 

“You like this,” he questioned, curling his fingers inside of you, eager for a reaction. “Got to tell me, baby.” 

The moan was lost in your throat and even though your pussy was leaking all over him, the confirmation clearly wasn’t enough. 

It was only when another noise of you was strangled between the cloth did he poke at it, knitting his brows together as he asked, “Need me to take this out for you?” 

You nodded frantically, practically begging him. 

“You can’t scream.” He narrowed his eyes at you, clearly questioning whether it was a good idea or not. “Sukuna said I shouldn’t.” 

You knew that name, his older brother, you remembered. He was the one that had got Choso a job in the first place. You hadn’t met him, he had left the store long before you started but to think he knew you were in here and he didn’t care. It was sickening. 

“It’ll be better for you if you don’t try and scream. I don’t know what he’ll make me do to you if you do.” There was an uneasiness to his tone as if he was scared at the possibility and you hated the idea that Choso could do something worse to you. “Do you understand?” 

You gave him a small nod, hoping that would be enough for him. 

Thankfully it was, feeling his fingers pull at the cloth he had jammed in your mouth until it was all the way out. 

He watched you cautiously as he did so, waiting with his hand against your cheek in case you did try to scream. You didn’t though and you weren’t sure who it took more by surprise, you or the man hovering above you. 

“You okay?” 

It felt genuine the way he asked you, wide wet eyes looking down at you with some sort of concern. You couldn’t understand it and you weren’t sure if you really wanted to.

You gave him the faintest of nods, too fearful not to answer him with the way he stared at you, like he was desperate for an answer. 

It was only when his fingers delved deeper into you, did you realise what you unknowingly agreed to. You couldn’t help but moan as he slipped a third finger in, clawing at the restraints that bound your hands together. With each drag of his fingers against your spongy walls you felt the lines of consent begin to blur. 

He had brought you here against your own will, you reminded yourself. But had there been something that you did that eluded him to the idea that you wanted to be here? That this was right?

Choso wasn’t like the other guys at work, the horn dogs that drooled over anything with two legs and a hole they could slip it into. You could see it in the way he watched you now, his gaze darkening, the brown iris barely visible with how badly his eyes dilated. His lips parted and all that seemed to escape him were shallow breaths, as if he was enjoying this more than you. Like he was simply getting off on seeing you overcome with pleasure. 

Your body trembled at the idea of it, terrified and almost… excited? You couldn’t deny how close you were teetering towards your oncoming orgasm. Yet you were still fearful of the man on top of you, not entirely sure what he could be gaining out of this. 

“You want this,” he hummed, bringing his lips to rest against yours. “Don’t you?” 

You couldn’t deny him, not with how his eyes brimmed with tears that threatened to spill against your skin. So you agreed once more, lips moving against his as you squeaked out a small, “Yes.” 

He grinned at that, nudging his nose against yours as he connected your lips into a needy kiss. 

You whined into it, feeling his thumb circle your sensitive clit. You clenched around him instinctively, feeling your hips buck into him for more in which he was eager to give you. He didn’t waste any time, pressing his thumb into you while his fingers thrusted and curled into you, nudging against a sweet spot that had you moaning into his mouth. 

You were overly glad for his lips pressed to yours when you came, muffling the screams of pleasure that tore through your throat. Your thighs clamped around him, trying to push him away rather than keep him in. But Choso was an immovable object and you knew you just needed to come to terms with that. 

“Choso,” you yelped, squirming underneath him. 

His eyes widened at that, worried that you might begin to scream for release. 

You didn’t though but instead, breathlessly pleaded with him to stop. “Please, no more.” 

“I’m sorry,” he hushed you, pressing feather light kisses to your face as he distracted you from pulling his fingers from your walls. “You’re okay.” 

You weren’t entirely in agreement with that, feeling your walls still flutter with the after effects of the long awaited orgasm. But you were in no state to fight him on the matter either.

“You’re okay, right?” He lifted his face to look over you with that sad puppy look.

“I’m okay,” you told him, between a shaky breath. 

He seemed happy with your response, bringing his lips against yours once again. This kiss was sticky and desperate, Choso’s tongue sinking into your mouth as he explored it. He whined when you didn’t reciprocate, moving his tongue so deep into your mouth that you had to push it away with your own, or you’d choke on it. 

It had him smiling, your tongue finally moving against his even if it was in an attempt to fight back. He didn’t seem to care, or maybe he just didn’t realise, living in some sort of delusion that this was completely consensual, that this was what you wanted. 

He was eager for your confirmation, you finally realised. Desperate for it. 

“Choso,” you whispered, breaking free from the kiss as you twisted your head away. “Choso, can you-” You stopped yourself, turning to his face with a small pout. 

“Anything,” he responded, without even hearing the full question. 

“My hands.” You wiggled them underneath you, pressing your lips together as you jutted out your bottom lip. “They hurt.” You swallowed and whined, “Please.” 

He nodded, hands reaching over you to fumble with your restraints that had you tied to his bed. It only took a few seconds before your wrists were freed and you could pull your hands back to your side. It also wasn’t long before you began to use your new found freedom to slip away, only to be caught instantly with a hand wrapped around your wrist. 

You winced as Choso applied pressure to the fresh bruises, and yanked you back underneath him. 

“Try that again and I’ll have to tie you up again,” he warned, jaw clenching as he glared down at you. He quickly dropped his glare, eyes softening at you as he tried to mask his anger. But it was still there, you could see it in his rigid form that kneeled over yours. “I don’t want to hurt you. You're the last person I want to hurt, Y/N.” 

A chill ran over you as he ran a finger over your cheek, sliding it down your neck as his eyes followed the movement. He stopped once he reached your breast, swallowing at the sight of the abused flesh and licking his lips. 

“Please, don’t do that again.” His eyes flew back up to yours, his jaw tightening as he waited for your response. 

“I won’t do it again,” you told him, feeling unnerved by the way he stared at you. “I promise.” 

Relief seemed to wash over him, his body relaxing once again as his eyes fell downwards. “Good, good.” He licked his lips, cheeks darkening to red at the sight of something. 

You followed his gaze, widening at the sight of him in his boxers. The material clung to him, his bulge and the wet patch practically staring at you. You were so stuck on the sight of him, you barely noticed his hand dragging yours towards him, not until he was slipping it inside the article of clothing with a sigh. 

It was a sticky mess inside, cum coating your fingers before your hand found his cock. You weren’t really thinking, gripping it slightly in your hand as if you were entranced by it. You moved your hand over it, dragging it up and letting your fingers slide over the tip. It was only when he gasped at the touch, did you snap back to reality, snatching your hand back. 

You held it in front of you, slightly amazed at the sight of the cum that coated your fingers. Had he been touching himself this whole time? It wasn’t possible, both hands had been at you the whole time. But surely– 

“I know I shouldn’t have,” he said, eyes flickering towards your gaze. “Not before you anyway but-” His body folded over yours again, till you could feel his leaking cock touching your leg, the piece of clothing over it doing nothing to hide it. “-you don’t get how you make me feel. It just happened.” 

You swallowed at that, watching him as he leaned further into you. You knew what was going to happen and even though you knew some part of you wanted to fight against it, there was another sicker part that thought it’d be easier to succumb to it instead. That part had you widening your legs, making more space for him as he pressed his body against yours. 

“I’ll make you feel so good, I swear,” he whispered, rutting his hips against yours. “I promise.” You bit back a moan as he repeated his actions, feeling his bulge rub against your overly sensitive clit. “Make you feel good.”

“Okay,” you whispered. 

He stopped, eyes meeting yours again as if he didn’t quite hear you. 

You weren’t even sure you could quite hear what you were saying either, the words didn’t even feel like your own as they fell from your tongue. “Make me feel good then.” 

You had no time to act when Choso descended upon you, slipping his boxers down all while he kissed you. It was your turn to whine when you felt his cock slide against your folds, hissing into him as it ran over your clit. He seemed so content in just doing this, rubbing his cock between your folds as he mixed your juices with his. You were sure if you didn’t say anything he’d cum like this and be done with it, or feel the need to still take you again. 

“Choso,” you called, sliding your hand between your bodies. You found his cock, hard and wanting, finally grabbing his attention. “Inside me.” His eyes snapped towards yours. “I want it inside me.” 

His eyes widened as he withdrew from your lips, swallowing nervously as he peeled himself off of you slightly. 

“Choso?” You knitted your brows together, looking up at his flushed face. 

“I-uh-” he shifted, blinking as he looked down again. 

“It’s okay.” You comforted him, sliding his cock against yourself until you lined his tip up with your entrance. “Just push it in.” You guided him, bringing your hips up a bit so he partially slid in. “Like this.” 

Choso followed, pushing his hips into yours, groaning as he filled you to the hilt. Once he was all the way in, there was no stopping him. He was suddenly hooked on the feeling of being inside you, thrusting his hips back and forth continuously. He was so lost in it, sinking his face into your neck with such a deep whimper that you weren’t entirely sure you’d be able to break him from it. 

All you could do was take it and take it you did. 

You matched his moans with your own, wrapping your legs around him as he fucked you into the mattress. There was no denying it, everything felt right with Choso inside of you. You felt full to the brim. Your walls snugly wrapped around him, squeezing him, begging for more. 

“Feels so good,” he whispered into your ear, licking the shell of it. “I want to go deeper. Deeper.” 

You weren’t completely sure what he was talking about until his hands brought your legs up, folding them between your bodies. 

Oh deeper.

You swore you could feel him in your stomach at the angle, and the sensation had you mewling out his name. 

You weren’t at all surprised at how fast both of you were brought to the edge. You could feel your brain turning into mush at how well his cock was rutting itself in and out of you and you could feel Choso tightening his grip onto you, as his pace began to pick up. 

“So good.” He repeated the phrase over and over again, the sound of his moans vibrating through you as he did so. So good. Until your eyes rolled to the back of your head and you felt yourself gushing all over him, your orgasm washing over you. So good. Until he was spilling inside of you, gasping at the feel of your walls milking him for all he had to offer. 

You were spent after that, the aftershocks still coursing through your body as he slowed himself to a stop. You weren’t even surprised when he didn’t pull himself out of you, collapsing on top of you and keeping himself buried inside you instead. He seemed satisfied— sedated as he nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck with a deep sigh. 

He seemed so content, body fully relaxed on top of yours that you didn’t want to break him away from it. But as you came back to the reality of your situation, you found yourself needing to say something, only too scared to break the silence you both rested in. 

Luckily for you, it wasn’t your words that broke the silence but a sudden knocking on Choso’s bedroom door, followed by a voice you could only imagine was Choso’s older brother. 

“Kid is out for another hour before you both need to shut up.” 

Choso didn’t seem to react, only sighing as he kissed your subtle skin. 

You parted your lips to speak, but you stopped yourself realising it might be better not to know. Not to understand. 

Instead you closed your eyes, sinking into his touch as he began to lick at the column of your neck and trace his fingers into your sides. You didn’t know what was going to happen after this but for a moment you were too tired to care. You just assumed you’d have to let him decide. 

[immortalbumblebee]

Chapter 19: Heart of Gold

Figured the Vander fandom could use a lil' treat right about now, so here's my gift to all of you! Fingers crossed for Act 3 tomorrow!

(Also yes, two updates in a single week. Points to me!)

THIS IS SMUT! 18+! MINORS DNI PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD

Masterlist

“You hungry at all? Think we’ve got some leftovers I can warm up for y’.” He asks once you step through the threshold, shutting the door behind you. The apartment feels eerily empty without the others, despite the mountains of stuff that litter the floor space and every perceivable surface. But the homey warmth is welcomed after your bitterly cold walk home. You feel your cheeks begin to warm, sense coming back into them. You’ve hidden your hands in the large sleeves of Vander’s jacket, but still curl your fingers as warm blood begins to flow back into them.

You shake your head. “Maybe some water, if you don’t mind? And find where we put the bandages?” You ask. You’ll have to put fresh plasters on your injuries after your shower. 

“Of course!” Vander nods, and once the door lock clicks, he turns back to face you. He stands there for a moment, hands in his pockets and shuffling his weight from foot to foot, and looking down at you without saying anything. The air felt thick, charged, like something still hung between you, unresolved. So much so that it took you a solid moment to even realize you were doing much the same, just stupidly looking up at him. You found yourself wanting to say something, to bridge the space, but the words felt too small, too fragile. So, you just stood there. Time stretched, thick with everything that had been said, and everything that hadn’t. All that was left was the weight of your shared space, now too big for the both of you. The seconds slipped by, silent and heavy, until you weren’t sure if it was you or the room that was holding its breath. 

Finally, it’s Vander that speaks first, pulling the world back into motion. “You’re sure you’re alright?” It should be a simple question, but it feels like a lifeline thrown across a gap.

You shift, unknowingly taking a small step towards him, and the tension in your chest that you hadn’t even realized was there begins to lessen. You feel his gaze on you soften, but your own gaze is still absent-mindedly locked on his feet.

“I’m fine now,” you breathe out. Your voice barely more than a whisper. “Promise.” There was a long pause after that—no rush to fill the silence with anything else. But then he takes a step towards you, closing the physical space, and a gentle knuckle moves your chin up to meet his gaze. Something in his eyes—something raw, desperate—mesmerizes you and you suddenly can’t move your eyes away, locked in on the storming gray. 

Wordlessly, he extends his hand. You have to shove the sleeve of his jacket up your arm in order to meet his touch with your own, the large calloused hand easily enveloping yours. His thumb brushed over my knuckles once, twice, each touch like a promise, soft but knowing. Still silent, he lifts your hand to his lips. The warmth of his breath ghosts over your wrist before he pressed a soft kiss to the plaster, the touch lingering, gentle, reverent. Then, with gentle fingers, he opens your hand to press it against the warmth of his cheek. Despite your best attempts to keep your hands warm outside, the warmth of his cheek burns at the winter-bitten skin of your fingers, and his stubble brushes against the meat of your palm. 

His eyes closed, just for a moment, and in the stillness, there was something…but you couldn’t put a name to the feeling that filled that entryway to your shared apartment. Meditation? Thoughtfulness? A prayer? An apology? Whatever it was, you stayed, refusing to pull away but fighting the urge to bury yourself in his chest and stay there for an eternity. Thankfully, you don’t have to fight the urge for too long as he eventually does lower your hand, giving it one last, soft, reassuring squeeze before lowering it back to your side.

“I’ll get that water for you, Love.” He says with a smile, snapping you out of your daze. You couldn’t read the expression on his face. Somewhere between sad and thankful. “Go and wash up.” 

“Right.” You nod. Showering! Showering is good! In all your romantic kissy-faces to each other, you’d almost forgotten the reason you had been itching to return home so quickly. You quickly peel off his jacket, handing it back to him before bending down to unlace your boots. As you do, you’re quickly reminded of the coolness of your apartment as it hits your very exposed flesh all at once. Gods, you needed to get out of these fighting clothes. Would it be too dramatic to say you wanted to burn them? Maybe. But the thought still crossed your mind. 

The steam that wrapped around you was almost like a blanket, the warmth of the water a slow, soothing balm against your aching bones. The hot spray cascading from the top of your head, and pouring down your neck and over the skin of your back. Lazily, you’d lifted an arm and watched as the water washed away the dirt and grime from the past few hours, leaving behind murky trails as the droplets rolled down your skin. 

You shouldn’t be taking too long in the shower, you knew this. The boilers for your apartment building were old, and tended not to hold much hot water. But the minute you felt the heat seep into your muscles, you were hypnotized. Closing your eyes, you turned and let the water flow down your hair and into your face, the sound of rushing water drowning out any and all noise from the world outside. It hurts a little when the water hits your nose, shocking you out of your peace and making you step back away from the stream. 

Right, you think to yourself, your injuries. Had to work around those…

You look down at your damaged wrists, the raw, angry skin still tender from the rough treatment, and a small annoyance flickers in your chest. How are you supposed to wash your hair when you can’t even get soap in the wounds? Your fingers hover near the shampoo bottle, but your mind veers off, lost in a different memory. The shackles. You can almost feel the cold, unforgiving metal around your wrists again, the way they had bitten into your skin, rubbing it raw with every movement, tethering you in a way that was both physical and psychological. The sensation of being bound, unable to escape, floods your thoughts, and the anxiety tightens in your chest.

You breathe deeply, pushing the memories away as best you can. Your gaze shifts to the temperature dial of the shower, and your fingers flex, tentative, before flicking your wrist just so. The heat of the water rises, just a touch more, and as it hits your skin, it’s like a switch flips. The tension in your hands begins to ease, the deep ache in your muscles loosening, like a rusted hinge moving for the first time in ages after being oiled.

There’s a knock at the door that snaps you out of your thoughts, and you call out an invitation to come in. 

“Just wanted to check in,” Vander calls, “makin’ sure everything’s alright.”

You respond quickly, without even thinking. “Yup, I’m all good!” But another look at the shampoo bottle reminds you of your predicament. “...actually…could I ask a favour?” An uncomfortable feeling rises in your chest, the dread of having to depend on someone else for something so simple as washing your hair. 

The door clicks as Vander steps inside. “Of course, whatever you need.”

“I-” you exhale a sigh of annoyance, “I think I need help washing my hair. My wrists…”

You don’t need to say any more before Vander starts stripping himself of his clothes, the sound of rustling fabric and his belt hitting the tile floor. The rushing water is almost enough to drown out the self-deprecating thoughts that trickle into your mind, and the sound of your heartbeat skipping in your ears as he climbs in behind you. 

He doesn’t say anything at first, but you feel his hands on your body. His fingers swiping over the various discoloured bruises that now decorate your skin, some from Sevika, some from the Enforcers.  You can feel the weight of their gaze, full of care, but also something else—concern, maybe even guilt. “I promise, I’m fine.” You say as you turn around to face him, and his eyes immediately shift to your nose. You didn’t realize he was so close to you, your chests basically pressed to one another once you’ve turned to face him. “You and I both know I’ve been through worse.”  His eyebrows lift a little and he nods, muttering “fair enough,” as he detaches his hands and bends down to the shampoo he knows is yours. 

“I’m sorry to ask so much of you.” You blurt as he pours out the bottled liquid. But he just gives you a knowing look.

“It’s you, Doll,” he smiles, and you realize it’s the first genuine smile you’ve seen from him all night. “You could never ask too much of me.”

Your heart skips all over again.

As he begins working the shampoo into your hair, you find yourself leaning into the feel of his fingers. They’re a little awkward, clearly not used to doing this for someone else, but his touch feels heavenly as they rub into your scalp. Your eyes shut, but your hands latch onto his hips to help keep you steady. It doesn’t take him long to work the solution into your short-cut hair, and he ever so gently tilts your head back into the shower’s stream to wash it away.

“That cut to your nose’ll scar nicely.” He remarks as his hands keep busy in your strands.

“Like it?” You tentatively open one of your eyes and smirk. “At least my muzzle’s not quite as mashed as yours.”

He chuckles lowly. “We’re still young, Minnie. Give it a few more years, and we’ll see who’s talking. Besides,” he tips your head back up, but his hands stay entangled in your hair, “even with all the broken cartilage in the world, and every scar imaginable, you’re still gorgeous compared to my ugly mug.”

A heat rises through your chest that has absolutely nothing to do with the steaming shower, and suddenly, your retort about how much you hate that stupid nickname has vanished from your mind. Instead, you force a roll of your eyes and gently swat at his side with a scoff. 

“Oh fuck off, so not true.” 

“I think it is.” He smiles, his eyes locked on yours as a small smile pulls at his lips. “Besides, can’t blame a man for trying to flatter his girl.” 

Your eyebrows fly up into your hairline. “‘Yours’, huh?”

He hums in confirmation, his thumb brushing at the base of your skull. The touch sends a shiver down your spine, and your breath catches in your throat. He smirks as he confirms, “mine.” There’s no questioning tone or uncertainty, it’s matter-of-fact. Before you even have time to think of a proper response, he’s bending down to retrieve the soap. 

He rathers the bar in his hands, his eyes flickering back and forth up to yours, searching yours, as if asking for permission. The tension in the air is palpable, the space between you thick with hesitation. You nod, just once, barely, but it’s enough. He moves with practiced care, gently moving one sudsy hand to your shoulder. You can feel the bubbles wiping away the remnants of the grime and sweat, but you don’t move your eyes away from Vander. His, on the other hand, scans over every inch of you as he continues to move his hand over your skin. The moment his hands reach for your wrists, you flinch, instinctively pulling back, but he stops—just for a beat, letting you adjust, giving you a moment. His touch is careful, soft as he moves away from the tender wounds.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, his voice thick with something you can’t quite place. “I should have done something to stop them, to help you.”

You don’t say anything at first, letting him continue to work the soap into your torso. You can feel his hands pause for just a moment around your chest, almost out of habit, before continuing to slide over your sides. Then you lift your hands to his shoulders, stilling him. You search his expression, guilt coming up to the surface and written all over his furrowed brow. You’re looking for something, anything to indicate the right thing to say to him. But then you're moving to your tip-toes, and your hands are sliding around him, pulling his lips down to meet yours. 

Your lips are gentle. There’s no heat, no rush, to the kiss but he melts into it all the same. There’s a small, echoed, ‘thump’ as the soap falls to the floor of the shower and his hands encircle your waist. He’s gentle, careful, but pressed you into him. Not unsure or uncertain, just careful of the way your body moves with his touch.

Eventually, you pull away, but he refuses to let you go, and keeps the closeness between you even tighter as he gently presses his forehead to yours. You can feel his breath fanning over your face, and his strong grip keeping you firmly in place. The hot water from the shower streams down your back, and the combined heat from the steam and the shared warmth of his body radiating into both of you. When you do eventually separate, it’s only thanks to a firm hand on his chest that he lets you pull away.

“I think I can handle it from here.” You smile a little to yourself. “I’m 90% sure we’re about to run out of hot water, and I’d really rather that not happen while I’m in here. Is it okay if I meet you out there?”

There’s something like a low growl deep in his chest, and he pulls you in one more time, this time to press a gentle, tender kiss to your wet hair. One of your hands finds its way to his chest, the pads of your fingers tracing over the lines of his muscles appreciatively for a moment longer than strictly necessary before he takes a step back. 

“Take all the time you need, Love.” He smiles, squeezing your hand one final time before stepping out. You let him take your hand with him, until the very last moment before he disappears behind the curtain. 

As you predicted, it takes next to no time at all for you to finish washing up. You quickly dry off and dress in a much comfier set of clothes, but you’re still toweling off your hair as you step out of the bathroom and into the apartment at large. As you could have guessed, Vander’s sitting there, patiently, on the couch with a first aid kit on standby.

“You didn’t have to actually wait for me.” You explain. “And you really don’t have to help patch me back up.” 

“Oh, please,” Vander scoffs and waves you off, “you’ve patched me up plenty, it’s only right if I return the favour every once in a while.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes, but take the spot next to him nonetheless, smiling as he grabs the antiseptic from the kit. His movements are calm, but a little unsure. Usually it’s him getting patched up, not the other way around. You watch him, the quiet comfort of their presence filling the space between you.

He focuses on your wrists first, his hands gentle as they begin cleaning and dressing your wounds. There’s no rush in the way he works, no sense of urgency, just the steady rhythm of their touch. The coolness of the ointment soothes your skin, and for a moment, you forget the discomfort, focusing instead on the simple act of being cared for. His fingers graze your arm as they adjust the bandage, warm and reassuring.

The silence between you isn’t heavy anymore. It’s easy, companionable, a shared moment of quiet that feels more like a pause than anything else. You lean back into the cushions, finally able to relax, the weight of the day starting to lift, if only for a little while. And in that space, with them beside you, you feel happily reassured, content even.

“You don’t have to apologize, you know.” You break the silence. His hands pause over the bandages for a moment, indicating he heard you, but his gaze doesn’t lift to meet yours. “You did help me. I’m assuming it wasn’t Silco’s idea to get my mom and Niya involved.”

He shrugs, wrapping the second bandage around your other wrist. “It was Silco who said that if we were seen anywhere topside, we’d get thrown in jail with you.” For such a large man, it was surprising when his voice was this small.

“He was probably right.” You nod, and lift your already-bandaged hand to cup his cheek. “But you still found a way to help me. What matters right now is that I’m safe, here with you, and everyone down here’s okay.”

He leans into your touch for a moment, shutting his eyes. He seems to be thinking to himself for a moment, then sighs, nods, and turns his attention back to bandaging you up. You drop your hand. 

“Suppose you’re right.” He mumbles, practically a whisper, and he looks up to give you a thankful smile. One you’re more than happy to return.

“When am I not?” 

To this, he can’t help but chuckle, and he gives you a knowing look, one that makes the air feel lighter, more peaceful. There’s something about his presence, the way he handles you with care, that feels grounding, even comforting. As he finishes with your wrist, he finally turns his attention to your nose. This one’s easy, shorter work, as he simply dabs on the last of the antiseptic and sticks a plaster to the bridge of your nose, just under your eye line. 

As he finishes tending to you, his hands remain steady, not moving away, not yet. He looks up at you, eyes soft, searching for a sign—anything that might let him know you're ready for him to pull away. But you don’t want him to. Instead, you happily let him move closer to you, his body pressing against yours as he captures your lips in a tender, passionate kiss. His arms wrap around you, pulling you in tightly as his mouth moves over yours, a mix of tenderness and hunger in his touch. Time seems to slow down as his mouth moves over yours, the kiss slow and languid, as if he wants to savor every moment. His hands gently caress your face, fingers tracing the outline of your jaw as he kisses you tenderly.

He takes his time, exploring your mouth with a gentle but firm tongue, mapping out every contour. He moves from your lips to your ears, his breath hot on your skin as he whispers sweet nothings, pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses along the length of your neck that make your toes curl. Your hands snake around to the back of his head, your fingers gripping into his hair and successfully drawing out a moan from him. This makes you smirk, but you’re surprised when he quickly pulls his face away from you.

“When do you have to be at work?” He asks, voice husky but concern written on his face.

You shake your head. “I don’t, I booked today off in case the fight went sideways. You?”

His concern melts away into a gleeful smile, his arms enveloping your torso as he lifts you up with absolutely no effort, sitting back to lean against the arm of the couch and pulling you into his lap, your thighs straddling his. “Not until tonight.”

Gods bless!

You dip your face back to meet his lips again, letting a moan ring out at the contact. The kiss is slow and somewhat tentative at first, and it’s clear he wants to be gentle with you. But more and more as your kiss continues to deepen, he quickly becomes more confident until he inevitably dips his head back down to the crook of your neck. But he still moves slowly, taking his time to taste and touch, his mouth finding the sensitive spots on your neck, the hollow of your collarbone, and the slope of your shoulder. His mouth sears a path of pleasure as his hands continue to wander over your body, exploring every dip and curve. His stubble scratches you in the most delectable way. 

He worships you with his touch, as if he wants to memorize every inch of you, to commit the feel of your skin to his memory. It feels like every touch of his lips is your own personal heaven, your hand dropping to his shoulder and gripping, your chest heaving as your breath becomes more and more laboured. Damn this man, damn him and his memory of every little nerve ending in your body. 

As his hands move under the fabric of your shirt, you give him a silent nod of approval, letting him slide the material up and off your torso and not carrying where into the depths of your home he throws it. He pulls away, just for a moment, as his hands slide up and cup your breasts, his eyes scanning over every inch of you. “Best fuckin’ tits either side of the bridge, I swear to the Gods…” This makes you giggle a little, which only makes his smile grow even wider. 

“Shut up and kiss me again, idiot.” You laugh, using your magic to pull him in by the metal studs in his vest. He’s only too happy to follow orders, crashing his lips to yours once again.

Your hands run up his chest, helping him out of his vest and he thankfully takes the hint, pulling his shirt over his head. You take the moment to shimmy out of the pajama shorts you’d only just gotten dressed into as he begins to fiddle with his belt. It only takes a second for you to flick your finger, and the belt unloops itself and goes flying towards the bedroom. He gives you a knowing look.

“What?” You shrug as he resumes discarding his pants. “What’s the point of having these damn powers if I can’t use them, hm?”

“Lil’ trouble maker.” He tsk’s but very shortly pulls you right back to his lap.

His strong, muscular chest pressed up against your own, the feeling of skin against skin sending a wave of heat through both of you. He kisses you with a fervor and intensity that takes your breath away, his hands holding you tightly against him, as if he's scared to let you go. You feel as desired and wanted as you've ever been, every touch and kiss from him making you weak in the knees and stealing all rational thought from your mind. In all your years, you’ve never once felt quite as desired as you do with Vander. Similarly, it takes only a mere touch from him to make your knees weak and your mind go empty. Simply put, it’s just…him. And he’s the only one you want. 

The thought, and the pure intimacy of it all, is enough to make your hips begin to grind down on their own accord. You can feel how he’s pressing into you, how hard and perfectly shaped he is against your body. His hand finds your hip, steadying you and catching your gaze in a questioning look.

“Sure you’re up for this tonight, Love?” He asks, thumb rubbing softly against your pelvis bone. But all you’ve got to do is smile and dip down to capture his lips as you tilt your hips and scoot closer, for him to let out a full-body shiver and grab your hips with both hands, and thrust fully into you. You moan out a slew of curses as your body writhes against his, everything else ceasing to exist as he fills you. Getting lost in his embrace, his face finds your neck again and begins to pepper kisses across the skin. You feel the desperate need for friction, a primal urge taking control, but you're already so sensitive and overwhelmed from the initial stretch that you know you need time to adjust. He groans, a deep, guttural thing, when you finally take all of him, and the sound drives through you, making your core tighten in response. Your own self-restraint crumbles, and your hips move on their own accord, silently pleading for him to finally give in and begin the movement you both crave. Thankfully, he seems unable to resist, his own hips moving to match your rhythm until you hit the pace you need, causing pleasure to crash into you.

His strength is absolutely an asset, his hands helping to guide your hips up and down as you begin to slowly ride him. Your mind was already practically spinning, moans and curses tumbling from your lips as he dragged in and out of your warmth. Your hands find his shoulders (fuck, he has nice shoulders), a desperate attempt to ground yourself and bite back the urge to dig your fingernails into his skin.

“So-fuck–” you whine, almost pathetically, “so fucking full.”

The sound sends a shockwave through Vander, all but ramming himself deeper into you in a way that feels like it breaks your brain. But you both feel it, the desperate hunger for more. 

“That’s right. You take me so well, don’t you, Love?” He moans into your skin, pulling away from your neck to take in the sight of you on his lap. Somehow, seeing his eyes, seeing the way he looks at you; like water to a man parched, like your the greatest treasure you could hope to find. Mesmerized by the pleasure on your face and the way your tits bounce as you move against him. It feels wonderfully perfect, and all you can do is moan and nod, each time your hips snap down, sending a fresh wave of ecstasy through your body.

He’s relentless, his hips grinding against yours like he owns you, and there’s a sense of ownership in his actions, as if he’s claiming you as his own. He lets out a growl against your ear, and the sound of it sends a shiver down your spine. He’s wild and intense, and the pleasure he’s giving you is so much more than you ever thought possible. You cling to him, your fingers digging into his back as you hold on for dear life, overwhelmed by the intensity of the sensations.

At this point, any semblance of gentleness is long gone, replaced with the primarily urge, the exquisite electrical feeling that buzzes through both of you. You’re riding him with every intention of chasing both of your releases, every thrust down having him gripping your hips harder and harder to the point where you’re half-aware of the bruises you’re sure to have after. He dips back to the crook of your shoulder one last time, licking up the length of your neck with the flat of his tongue before suddenly, the piercing feeling of his teeth against your shoulder shocks through you. You shriek in the mix of pain in pleasure, letting your head roll back to allow him more access. 

“Mine.” He growls into your ear. “Understood?” 

“Fuck-yes!” You cry, feeling the coil in your lower stomach begin to tighten. “Yours. All of me, all that I am, yours.”

Fuck it. Right now, right here. All you needed was him. 

He’s driving you crazy with a pleasure more intense than you could have imagined, his body moving against yours with a raw, primal force. With each deep, hard thrust, you feel him claiming you, leaving you completely at his mercy, and the sense of submission only adds to the pleasure coursing through you. It’s as if he knows your body better than you do, and he’s able to draw out every ounce of pleasure from you. Knowing you’re both on the brink, he reaches out, grabbing one of your hands and pressing a kiss to your palm, then your bandaged wrist, then your arm, then where he just marked his teeth into your skin, all the way back to claim your lips. It’s maddening and intoxicating all at once, it’s perfect, and you find yourself being flown over the edge.

“That’s-” he lets out his own string of curses as you tighten around him, “that’s it, that’s it! So fucking good!”

Your mind is so fried from your orgasm that you barely register him all but throwing you onto the couch, didn��t even register the feel of the fabric on your back. But you most definitely felt him suddenly thrusting back into you, hooking one of your legs over your shoulder to allow him full and complete access to you. He’s more than happy to press kisses to the inside of your thigh, which mixed with the fully lewd sounds of his quickened pace, is enough to get you fully sex drunk and delirious as he continues to plow into you. 

“Gods, you look so-” he bites your thigh, and the same shriek escape your throat, combined with your drunken moans and whines, and it’s enough to make him groan deeply into the flesh he’s biting. “Fuck, I’m gonna-”

“Please!” You whine, voice cracking as your hands balling into fists as your mind struggles to comprehend the amount of pleasure flowing through you right now. “I need it, need to feel it! Vander, please!” That’s more than enough to ruin him, Vander dropping your leg so he could crash down and kiss you as he buried himself deep into you with one final thrust. You felt him groan against your lips and claw at your hips as he emptied himself into you, his chest rising and falling with each panted breath. 

You remain wrapped up in each other's embrace as several minutes pass, your lips moving against one another’s in a satisfied and languid kiss until he finally pulls away to catch his breath. He gasps for air, his warm breath fanning across your collarbone and sending a shiver through you.

Eventually, he can finally speak again, and he releases a deep, satisfied moan, “Fuuuuuck, that was good.” He manages to lift himself up slightly, gazing down at you with eyes filled with an adoring love, as they reach for your hand, their fingers brushing over your knuckles with a tenderness that makes your heart warm. You smile back at him, feeling giddy and blissful. “You alright, Love?”

Taking a deep, calming breath yourself as your consciousness slowly returns to you, you slide your hands up around his neck. “Oh Gods, yeah.” You laugh, and the smile he cracks is so wide, you’re sure he’s going to hurt himself. His head bends down, peppering your face full of kisses until you’re giggling and pushing him away. “...We should probably maybe move off the couch, though…and maybe grab our clothes before the guys get back.”

He whines a little, but concedes. “Right, yeah, hang on…”

Bless him, he carefully maneuvers you into your room, masterfully managing to stay completely in you until you’re laying on your bed. Then, with one final kiss, you feel him pull out before wandering back to the living room to collect all your things as you begin to clean yourself. It takes mere moments, but it feels like ages until he’s back in the room with you, tucking the both of you into your blankets as you begin to seep into the cozy warmth of your shared bodies. 

For a while, you just sit there, the two of you wrapped in warmth and quiet. Every now and then, he gently adjusts the blanket around you, their touch always light, always careful, like he’s trying to wrap you in comfort from every direction. You laugh softly when he tries to adjust your pillow for the third time, but it’s a light, easy sound, one that feels like things are returning to normal again.

You lean into him, your head resting on his shoulder, and he presses a soft kiss to the top of your head. The room feels full of little moments like this—touches that reassure, smiles that say everything without needing to be said. You’re not sure how long you stay like that, but time feels slower, softer, in the best way. The world outside seems distant, like you’re tucked away in this small bubble of calm, where everything feels safe and cared for.

It’s simple, it’s quiet, but in that space, it’s everything.

[lemurchick]

Another 'wonderful news' from Russia for your consideration! This week, the BRICS forum on traditional values took place in Moscow. And it was fucking insane.

In short, the opening meeting was BRICS countries representatives verbally jerking off on how well they oppress or plan to oppress their people especially women. The only person who bothered to contradict this narrative was Egyptian female writer Doha Mustafa Assy.

I will translate some quotes from the russian article. https://www.kommersant.ru/doc/7311174

Russia: "At some point the roles for women have begun to change towards independence and self-sufficiency. We, of course, love and respect our women very much, but we want them to pay more attention to their families, men and children. We do not want them to strive for business, politics, economics, power, or culture. <...> The main traditional value is the preservation of natural purpose, where a woman continues the family line and a man inspires her to give birth to children."

Pakistan: "Any traditional religion upholds and promotes social values and traditions. No father would want to harm his family. No mother would want to break up or disintegrate her family. This <rejection of family values> is deliberately imposed on us and promoted by some power circles”

Ethiopia: "In our country it is traditionally women who do the cooking, teaching children and other family duties. So the man's role is not as big as the woman's, and this tradition gives the man the freedom to behave like a child." (?????)

Uganda: [This country experience is “extremely important to the discussion of legislative protection of religious values,” emphasized russian politician Dmitry Kuznetsov, referring to the fact that in Uganda same-sex relations are prohibited, and in some cases violators face life imprisonment or even the death penalty.] “We did this to make sure that the country would be preserved. I would encourage countries to behave in such a way that the culture that exists in each country is not imposed on others.” btw Brazil and South Africa representatives didn't say a word here even though their countries legalized same-sex mafrriage years ago.

Brazil: "Marriage in no longer a goal for our citizens and the country has the highest divorce rate in history. Meanwhile, children are most often left with their mothers, with fathers unwilling to take part in their upbringing. As a result, many Brazilian boys are growing up without a father figure and 9% of male inmates in prisons don't even know their father's name. Shifting the balance in favor of women leads to the fact that the position of feminism is growing, and the number of people who identify as LGBT people is growing.” At the end of his speech, he marveled, “This is my first time in Russia, and I didn't know you guys were so conservative. I'm so happy, it's so impressive!” He also admitted that “the people of Brazil know nothing about Russia,” and Dmitry Kuznetsov promised: “We will come to you and tell you all about our saving conservatism.”

Egypt: As I mentioned in the beginning the only person who actively argued against this trend was Doha Mustafa Assy. She said: "We on the contrary has a struggle against patriarchy. Tradition and religion are not on women's side, they help men. A lot of women in Egypt ask for divorce only because they feel like slaves at home. He (the husband) has the right not to let her leave the house according to tradition. BRICS is India, it's China, it's Russia, it's Egypt. We are very different. And maybe what you are trying to do in Russia has already became a problem for us”.

To be honest I don't know what will come out of this forum. Maybe it's just empty posturing, maybe BRICS countries just sent people who had free time on their hand here as a formality. But I despair reading these quotes; twenty years ago we sent a singing duet posing as lesbians to Eurovision; ten years ago I was watching lesbian drama Blue Is the Warmest Colour in a full theater. Soviet Union gave women some attempt in an equal rights in fucking 1917 and we were the first country to send a woman in space. What happened? How has it turned this way? We are now friends with some of the most patriarchal countries in the world and with fucking North Korea. They are planning to remove the Taliban's terrorist status.

What the hell.

[that-weird-thing-in-the-woods]

~{ You all know what time it is! }~

•The Circus•

Jazz and Danny have always taken care of each other when their parents eventually forgot about them

Like when Jazz had to learn how to cook and fight off reanimated food to feed Danny when she was 6 because their parents got a new idea and had to work on it right that second

Or when Danny had to find a way to copy Maddies hand writing so when Jazz got sick or had class trip and she was to busy with other things so could go and have fun like someone her age so have

So you can tell they always took care of the other so when Maddie and Jack tried to lock Danny in the lab and have their way with the “Ghost scum” Jazz stood by his side until the end

And now that they both are full ghost that’s not going to change a bit they took care of each other in life

They going to take care of the other in death

•••••••••••••••••••••••••

When The Circus held out their hand for Jazz and Danny they were a bit surprised and untrusting in the beginning in fact Jazz would never leave Danny’s side or the other way around

But they have been with The Circus for some time now ( It’s hard to tell how long you’ve been in here Jazz and Danny find out pretty quickly ) and the people of The Circus has gained some of their trust but never quite all of it ( only the other has their full trust )

but the one they trust the most has to be the ringmasters or the leader of The Circus they keep everyone safe and protected so Jazz and Danny can respect that in them

And they made sure Jazz and Danny were safe as well so they respected the ringmaster a lot but not to the point where they would take their side over the other but they still respected them

Back on track, Jazz has been given the role as a sharp shooter and Danny as a Aerial act and of course jazz and Danny are always in acts together (The ringmaster has tried to get them to be separated acts due to their different roles and he got punched by jazz after he got to close to Danny for her liking, she gains everyones respect that day)

And if you need danny you often have to get past jazz first due to her being overprotective of Danny

How Danny and Jazz fight, Danny will use the silk he uses often in his and Jazz’s acts grab the person and fly around as fling the person all around and disorient them as Jazz fires her gun at them until the person is unable to fight or Danny and Jazz just get broad they will from Danny’s silks or whatever he’s using for flying around let them hit the ground or Danny will stop flying and Jazz gos at it, they treat it like target practice (They got everyone respect and fear after they did that the first time)

•••••••••••••••••••••••••

~{ Now onto the DCU part! }~

A emergency meeting is called for the JL about a new potential enemy or a rescue mission

So when one of the heroes [Batman, Superman, Wonder Woman, The Flash, Green arrow, Green lantern, Martian Manhunter, Aqua Man] in the meeting ask what it is are told about

A large big top that has large mechanical legs with the possibility of more due to the build of this structure and it seems to have been avoiding main areas where one of the main members of the JL are like its hiding

inhabitants of this is known to be unpredictable in their actions and how they react to people and objects out side of the structure and how they respond to questions about the big top or anything related to The Circus they will act as though the big top and whole Circus itself can hear them and become quiet and run off (They don’t really talk to people out side of acts so they just run back to where the others are or back to where their act is taking place)

And very little is known about them but this was brought to their attention due to the disappearances of people in the wake of The Circus (The ghost walk in and move on to the Ghost zone or find peace) and this is a problem and with the concerning words of some of the people who are in The Circus it is leaning towards the rescue mission

And they need to find out what is happening and need a team to go under cover and young justice volunteers to go under cover

•••••••••••••••••••••••••

~{ Now onto Danny and Jazz’s outfits! }~

For Danny I’m thinking

This for the outfit ~{ Or not this is really the best I could find that I at least liked enough }~

And for Jazz I’m thinking something like this

Or this ~{ I’m not picky about which }~

•••••••••••••••••••••••••

~{ And that’s it for this! I hope you things like it and life’s to short punch a politician! Byeeeee }~

[cobaltperun]

Darkest Part (6 - Finale) - Like a Bullet

Astrid Deetz x female Reader

Summary: You will never, in life or afterlife, if such a thing exists, meet anyone as infuriating, rage inducing, entitled, or frankly awful, as Astrid fucking Deetz. There isn’t a single thing you’d like more than to never be around her, but as your luck would have it, you just can’t stay away from her.

Masterlist / First part / Previous Part

Word count: 5.3k

-I don't know what it is that you do to me baby, if you knew would you tell that you feel the same way that I do-

A few days following the craziest night of your life you were finally back home in Manhattan. You never thought you would be missing this place. Not that you disliked it, you just never thought you’d get this nostalgic after less than a week. Granted, after everything that happened seeing the old buildings you got so used to felt like the most comforting sight in the world. “Home sweet home,” you said, breathing out a sigh of relief, as you stretched right outside of Lydia's car. They were kind enough to drop you off.

“So eager to get away from me, are you?” Astrid reached out through the window and nudged you slightly with her fist.

“Of course! What did you think? I can't stand being around you, you damn Chihuahua,” you smirked as you said that, at this point you were both just bantering because it came as a second nature to you. To some people it might seem like a genuine argument, but what was going on between you was more of a habit rather than anything, and there was absolutely no malice behind any word you spoke. Still you leaned into the car through the window and took her hand. “The deal remains, right?” you asked with a tiny bit of uncertainty in your voice. “We are meeting on Saturday at eleven in the morning?” that was the plan at the moment, you would meet up in the park go to a café and well, you would see where things go from there.

Astrid squeezed your hand and smiled, reassuring you without a single word. She still spoke up, “Of course, you better impress me, Barnacle.”

You rolled your eyes at that. “Please, you need to earn being impressed,” you replied with a cheeky grin on your face.

Astrid suddenly reached up and pushed a strand of your hair back behind your ear “Oh, do I?

Really?” Lydia must have turned the heating up to the max because it suddenly got really, actually really hot in the car.

“No, of course you don’- wait no, you actually do I changed my mind! You do, you absolutely do,” you pulled away from the car and pointed at her. “Just for that stunt you have to actually earn being impressed, because you’re, well you are- ah, fuck,” your brain just wasn't working. “You’re being you! Yeah, that works, I’m going with that,” and all the while Astrid was laughing her ass off.

Astrid got her laughter under control far too quickly for your liking and gestured for you to come closer, which you did as if drawn in by some spell. She smiled and patted you on the cheek. “Sure, whatever makes you sleep at night, Barnacle.”

You pulled away from her because you just did not deserve to be teased like this. Not when you felt so powerless against her. Why was it easier to deal with Astrid when you were at each other's throats? All the time your thought getting along would make things easier for you, that you already had everything figured out, but no, you were a stuttering mess whose brain constantly failed to deliver a proper response to Astrid’s consistent and tireless efforts to get under your skin.

And the worst thing about it?

She was damn near 100% successful.

No, forget damn near. She was 100% successful.

~X~

You were fucking late and somehow that made you feel like something like this has already happened. It was like you were reliving a day from a while ago, sleeping in, getting ready in a haste, skipping out on breakfast, on a surprisingly sunny November day, and rushing to meet up with someone in a small café in the middle of the park. Only this time you were meeting up with Astrid, instead of with Alex. Huh, their names started with A as well…

Too many coincidences, but you couldn’t think about that right now. You ran through the crowd, narrowly dodging people as you weighed your options. You could jump over the fence and save a couple of minutes, or you could be a civilized human being and take the proper path.

You hated being late too much.

You jumped over the park's fence and ran like hounds of hell were chasing you. Considering everything you went through just a week prior that would actually be tame.

You did not want to be late to your kinda date with Astrid. Hell no! You would not allow that.

And then it happened.

In your haste you didn't pay attention to your surrounding and, honestly you should be surprised it wasn't happening to you more often, you ran into someone and reflexively caught them before they could fall.

"Sorry," you and the person said at the same time and you blinked, looking at Astrid as she regained her balance and held onto your shoulders much longer than necessary. Granted, your hands were on her waist as well and if ignoring that you ran into each other one could be forgiven for mistaking the way you were for an embrace.

But it wasn't that detail that made you freeze.

You suddenly felt like you were transported to the last year, to that day you were meeting up with Alex. To the first time you met Astrid, just like this.

Instead of an apology, what left both of your mouths back then was a simple 'watch where you're going,' even as you were both to blame. Next thing you knew, you met her again at the library and the hate between you properly began.

"Guess neither one of us wanted to be late," Astrid laughed and then she just... hugged you and you pulled her closer, loving how perfect it felt to hug her like this.

"I don't know about you, but I heard first impressions are hard to fix," you whispered in her ear, and she squirmed a bit, she was probably ticklish, and your breath tickled her. That was a theory you'd be testing at a more appropriate time.

"Mhm, Barnacle," she reluctantly pulled away and took your hand, leading you toward the café.

The two of you went inside and somehow you forgot how cozy this place was, it had this rustic feel to it, and it was certified eco-friendly, which was important to Astrid, and to you to be perfectly honest. This was the kind of place you want to one day help create among many, many other things.

Astrid took you to a corner and instead of sitting on the opposite side of you she sat down next to you on the bench so that meant your thighs were nearly touching. The warmth of the fireplace in the middle of the café, the soft music playing, and the dim lighting made this all feel a lot more intimate than you were intending. And it was definitely more intimate than a supposedly definitely friendly date you were on.

The two of you ordered your coffees and then just fell into a comfortable silence, not really sure how to interact with one another when you weren't bantering. It didn’t escape your notice that you didn’t mind being silent with Astrid, it felt comforting, and you had no need to fill the silence. Besides, the somewhat shy smile on Astrid's face told you she didn't mind the silence one bit either.

“So, architecture, right?” she finally broke the silence and you could see that it was something she was curious about for a long time

You cleared your throat, not really used to talking about your passion to anyone other than your mother and Alex and sometimes, though very rarely, Delia while she was still alive. Hell, Astrid probably heard about it from Delia, if the drawing she fixed didn’t give her enough clues. It was actually a relief, that Astrid asked about something you genuinely cared about, it would definitely calm down your nervous heartrate. Or so you hoped. “I've always loved drawing, I guess,” you began, shrugging a bit. “More than that, well, I think that's the most efficient way to changed things on a smaller scale, you know change the everyday living habits and try to counter the climate change like that. Make a small difference one building at a time,” you thought you’d get less nervous, but all of a sudden you weren't exactly confident in your words having never truly expressed them to anyone other than your mom.

Deep down you knew you really wanted to get Astrid’s approval on this. You could only hope Astrid would understand and the smile on her face calmed you down in an instant. She understood, and surprisingly you could see an undeniable admiration in her eyes. And even then, you still felt like she was the one who deserved admiration.

“I think that's amazing,” she replied, actually sounding a bit excited and then it was as if she got self-conscious about it as she looked down at the table. “Sorry, It's kind of weird to be talking like this when we've spent a year at each other's throats, I'm kind of struggling to keep myself from just blurting out things I've been apparently secretly thinking all along,” Astrid confessed with a blush on her face and then, she leaned a bit closer to you, closing the distance as she turned a bit and placed for hand on top of yours. She took a deep breath. “I have admired your talent ever since I saw your drawing for the first time, and Delia did mention we would get along if we just talked. I never realized she was this right.”

This time it was your turn to squeeze her hand in reassurance. “It took some time, but we got here,” you smiled and that seemed to work as she squeezed your hand back. “And come on, whatever you want to say can't be as bad as all the things I blurted out under that truth serum,” you both laughed at the memory of that and listening to Astrid laughing, well, it truly was one of the most beautiful sounds you ever heard. “I could listen to you laughing all day long,” you quickly covered your mouth “Damn it! Am I still under the influence of that thing?!”

“I think it faded, it's just you being a goofball,” Astrid laughed and there was just something in her eyes that pulled you in as you were leaning closer. And you were very much aware she was leaning in as well. “You know there's nothing friendly about this, don't you?” Astrid asked as her breath mixed in with yours, as your lips inched closer with every excruciating second that passed.

“I know,” you whispered and in a burst of reckless disregard for consequences that you really couldn't think of right now, you closed the distance between you and kissed her. And her lips felt like the softest thing your lips ever touched. She kissed you back immediately, her hands reaching and caressing your face and back of your head as she held you closer. You rested your palm, slightly sweaty from the nervousness, on her thigh as your other hand slipped around her to the middle of her back.

Astrid hummed as you ever so slightly deepened the kiss and as you basked in the warmth of her lips and the feeling of her touch on you you realized that this passion you were already feeling was just as strong as the one you felt when you would banter any chance you saw one another.

When you separated out of the need for air, you still remained close, your lips still just slightly touching. “We should have done that a long time ago,” Astrid confessed as she kept you close, committing every touch, every feeling and sensation to memory.

“We really should have,” you replied and pulled back slightly. “So is this, uh, second date, fixing your impression on dating?”

Astrid pecked you on the lips once more. “You know, I think I'll just ignore what happened. I’ll just call that what it really was, a trap. So, it's fair to call this my very first date,” she decided and smiled. “This was my first kiss, just so you know,” she was blushing as she said that.

“Mine too. Both, the date and kiss,” you admitted as well. You felt nervous about the date last night which was probably why you overslept and now you felt dumb for being nervous. This was Astrid! You knew her, even when you were enemies you deep down knew her.

The smile on Astrid’s face widened, and you had no doubt in your mind, a part of her was satisfied with finding out she got your first kiss. “That ghost tried to kiss me, but there was an infuriatingly difficult to get rid of face that popped up in my mind, so I didn't. I couldn't kiss him when I was there thinking about you,” you could see what she was doing, evening things out after all, you did spill your guts because of the truth serum so here she was returning the favor one bit of information after another.

And you were absolutely thankful for it.

~X~

You couldn't remember the last time your apartment was this busy, this all over the place! You've actually been kind of anxious over the past week ever since you basically, and by pure nervous accident, invited Astrid and Lydia over for a dinner, and you've been in that panicked state ever since.

“Mom, can you please just go and lay down?” you pleaded with your mother as she continued cooking preparing yet another dish. “Please! We could feed ten people and it's only the four of us!” you said it, but you were clearly seeing that she was just as nervous as you were.

“What if they don't like something here? There needs to be a backup and the backup for a backup because there's always a chance you make two things someone doesn't like,” yeah she was nervous even more nervous than you.

And that was damn difficult to accomplish!

“That's not going to happen, mom. Even if it does, well if they don't like it they don't like it. Come on, it’s just my girlfriend and her mom coming over!” you cried out, trying to reason with her. Astrid and Lydia would be here in two hours and the kitchen was a mess, and your mom was still cooking and not the soups and main dishes, but the side dishes that you had no way of naming. Where did she even pull all those recipes out of?

“That’s exactly why!” she pointed a wooden spoon at you. “Your girlfriend is coming over, and you've never had a girlfriend before, and you are just two weeks into the relationship,” actually three but you were too embarrassed to tell your mom you got together with Astrid barely ten days after you stopped hating her so you only told her after the third date. “And she's coming over with her mother for dinner, so we can get to know each other, so it's serious and I need to make sure everything is perfect,” with her health she would be bedridden for the next weekend and you really should have just taken them to the restaurant, but no, your mom was too proud for that! She needed to cook food to show off her cooking skills, which she had, she was an amazing cook, but she wasn't healthy enough to do all of this, yet here she was doing exactly that!

“I'm going to start washing the dishes,” at this point there was no use in arguing and you needed to get this mess cleaned up.

Exactly 2 hours later the doorbell rang, and you jumped like you got burnt even though you were tired and sore from everything, but at least the dinner was ready and absolutely perfect.

You opened the doors to see them standing there, with Astrid nervously messing around with the leaf of the rose she was carrying. Why was she like this? This-this- you just wanted to squeeze and hug her and never let her go! Lydia seemed to be quite nervous as well, seeing as she was almost bouncing from one foot to another, so, overall all four of you were just nervous messes and it showed.

Astrid immediately hugged you and that helped. It helped both of you a lot as you just relaxed into the embrace. “This is either going to be a disaster or a great night there won't be an in-between,” Astrid whispered to you as she gave you the rose and you couldn't agree more so you hoped it would be perfect.

“Hope for the best, prepare for the worst?” you whispered back and thanked her for the rose befo turning to greet Lydia as well.

“That smells delicious, did you and your mom make the food?” Lydia asked as you stepped into the apartment.

“Mostly mom, I hate to say this, but cooking isn't my strongest suit,” you admitted sheepishly and placed the rose in an empty vase. You immediately led them right into the dining room because your mom would already be getting the table ready.

“You actually looked cute as a kid,” Astrid commented offhandedly and your eyes widened, there shouldn’t be any photos of you hanging on the walls! They were all in the photo albums so where did she even see that?! And then you saw it too, the picture of you when you were a kid and worst of all it was the most embarrassing one ever taken of you, the one from the Halloween where you were dressed as a pumpkin. “Orange suits you,” Astrid teased and all you could do was glare at your mother who traitorously hung the photo on the wall while you were distracted by everything else that needed to be done.

“I’m going to find some embarrassing photos of you, just you wait,” you grumbled and that suddenly gained you a surprising ally in the battle, as Lydia patted you on the shoulder.

“Oh, I can show you lots of them,” Lydia promised you and maybe this night would be perfect after all, despite the embarrassing start.

“No! You can't!” Astrid tried to intimidate the Lydia into backing down but you were already leaning closer to the woman.

You put your hand up, as if you were about to whisper, but you spoke loud enough for Astrid to clearly hear you. “I would be very, very happy to exchange the embarrassing photos I took of Astrid enjoying the cutest things imaginable when we were at the amusement park for those photos that you just mentioned,” you proposed, much to Lydia’s liking and the two of you shook hands. It was a deal, one that would benefit both of you.

“I've been betrayed,” Astrid dramatically lamented.

“Oh, don't worry, dear we can have our own little exchange,” you froze when you heard your mother saying that.

She did not just suggest that to Astrid!

“Mom!” you cried out, genuinely afraid because not only did your mother have the pictures she was more than willing to share the stories.

“You know, I had to ask Alex what your name was because all she,” your mom pointed at you, “would ever talk about was Chihuahua this, Chihuahua that, ever since the two of you met. She had a crazy crush on you, I'm telling you,” and your mom wasn't paying any attention to your protests and was instead having the time of her life embarrassing you and revealing your secrets.

And the damn Chihuahua was eating it all up.

Like the hungry demon that fed on embarrassment of unfortunate people.

“How about you just sit down and we can eat?” you suggested and pulled the chair out for Astrid to sit down on. And you chose that chair on purpose, because it was the furthest from your mom, so you could do damage control.

Astrid, instead, took one look at the seating plan you had in mind and took the seat next to the one you so carefully chose for her.

“I think your mom and I have a lot to talk about,” Astrid gave you a quick kiss as a consolation for what was about to transpire, and you just stood there, ready to say goodbye to your dignity. At least you could do the same to her and listen to her embarrassing stories from Lydia.

“This means war, Chihuahua,” you promised, but she just grinned.

“My dear Barnacle, whatever you learn won't be half as bad as what I'm about to learn,” she was so sure of that, and to make things even worse, you were sure of that as well. This was, truly, a war you couldn’t even hope to win.

~X~ Five months later ~X~

Astrid’s birthday was quickly approaching and you had the best idea ever! The most fitting gift for her birthday! Nothing, absolutely nothing could have worked as well as the gift you had in mind, and the grin on your face was something you could not suppress even if you wanted to, so here you were working at the library with the most ridiculously happy grin on your face.

If you weren’t in a library you were sure you’d be whistling or singing with how happy you were.

“You're actually a bit scary when you are this happy, you know that?” Alex suddenly commented there was no malice in his voice, he was just stating the fact.

“I figured out the perfect gift for Astrid,” you told him and you just knew that he would have whistled if you weren't in the library.

“I know I keep saying this and I’ll keep saying it for a long time, but I don't know whether it's wild or actually to be expected to see you two together. Last year you were at the each other's throats and now you are girlfriends,” he was right, you and Astrid have been dating for almost half a year now and it just so happened that her birthday was next week. “So, lover girl, what do you have in mind?”

You leaned in and whispered the answer into his ear and his eyes widened almost comically large as he turned to look at you. “No, no, Y/N,” your grin just got even bigger. “No, you can't.”

“Yes I can, yes I will,” there was no talking you out of this, the gift was too perfect!

“I have 3 words for you,” he suddenly got completely serious.

“Yeah?” you were almost worried to hear them, but your mind was set.

“Rest in peace.”

And it didn't matter that you were in the library you laughed your ass off. He was being too dramatic, surely Astrid wouldn't kill you.

Right?

~X~

Lydia couldn't remember the last time she was this at ease. Free from her show, having a healthy, repaired relationship with Astrid and with her dad and Delia occasionally haunting her. Everything was peaceful and quiet as she sipped on her coffee.

"I'll kill you, Barnacle!" Astrid shouted from her room and Lydia barely nearly choked on her coffee. You and Astrid still bantered, but this time Astrid actually sounded serious with that threat.

"Think of all the cleaning!" your half-panicking, half-amused shout came next, and Lydia honestly prayed that you didn't do anything too stupid to get Astrid to banter with you. Actually, she was probably hoping for too much, you had a strange fixation with making each other as annoyed and willing to banter as humanly possible and it went for both of you. She did not want to think about what the outcome of all of that frustration was or would eventually be especially seeing as the two of you would start living together once you started going to college.

You ran down the stairs as fast as humanly possible and jumped over her sofa to hide from Astrid. Well, hide was generous, as you snickered next to Lydia. Really, Astrid only had to come downstairs and she would find you immediately

"Y/N, don't provoke her on her birthday," she lightly chastised you, but she would be lying if she said she wasn't amused. A bit worried and maybe a tad bit concerned but amused, because as annoyed as Astrid would seem during the banter she could see that glimmer in her daughter's eyes. She knew Astrid was having fun even if she wouldn't readily admit it.

"Not my fault she has no sense of humor. The gift is perfect," you whispered, barely holding back from laughing.

Before Lydia could further question you, she heard Astrid running down as well. "Get this demon spawn pretending to be a dog back where it belongs! Right with you in the deepest depths of hell!"

A chihuahua. You got Astrid, a chihuahua.

Lydia laughed as she looked at her daughter. Despite the anger in Astrid's voice the youngest Deetz couldn't resist actually petting the puppy and it somehow seemed to like her which would probably mean that the rest of you were doomed.

“See, she likes you!” you laughed as well and pointed at the Chihuahua.

“Nonsense,” Astrid said but the blush on her face gave away how she actually felt. Lydia remembered how much Astrid wanted a dog as a child and maybe Chihuahua wasn't the first choice her daughter would have made when she was a child, but she would have been happy regardless of the breed. And seeing her with a dog now brought a smile to Lydia's face.

“I guess I have to keep it,” Astrid tried to play it cool, as she looked at the puppy. “I'm going to call you Barnacle, Barny for short so we don't confuse both barnacles,” she said the second part while glaring or at least trying to glare at you as you went and bravely walked over to her and instead of killing you as she promised she would Astrid just lightly kissed you on the lips.

“See, that's perfect,” you pet the puppy only for it to bite you or at least bite you as hard as the puppy could. “See and she hates me just like you did! Truly a perfect gift if I can say so myself,” you pointed out.

The three of you just laughed at that and that's how Astrid got stuck with the dog.

~X~

If a year ago someone approached you and told you that you would no longer be working for Delia because she went and got scammed and died out of embarrassment, yes you were going along with that version of events, and that you would actually be moving in with Astrid as you were getting ready to start college and that you would be together and having a Chihuahua named Barnacle you would have just laughed at them because it would have been the most ridiculous story you ever heard.

But that was a year ago, back when both Delia and Charles were alive and well, back when Astrid was the most annoying, infuriating person you've ever met instead of just being the most annoying, infuriating person you loved and things really were a lot different.

You spent the day unpacking, which was actually kind of nostalgic given packing and unpacking was part of your job while you worked for Delia and now the apartment you and Astrid were renting was pretty much ready for you. Well, aside from the bedroom, that was the last room to deal with. There were some interior design choices to be made but overall the apartment really was perfect.

“Your passion for architecture is paying off, this looks amazing,” Astrid commented as she stepped inside the living room from the kitchen. She was busy unpacking everything meant for the kitchen. All the while you were busy arranging the living room mixing everything that both of you loved. So, now the living room didn’t look like one person's living space, but rather the combination of the two of you.

You snorted and looked at her. “Sure, tease. You know what that'll get you later,” you couldn't hold back a smirk as she blushed. You sat on the sofa and turned the TV on letting it fill in the silence because neither you nor Astrid were all that talkative unless there was a proper conversation to be had.

If one of you got passionate about something, then yeah you were talking and yapping and basically wouldn't stop speaking but otherwise it was fairly quiet with occasional communication done mostly through glances and silent signs.

“What can I say? You are rather fun to tease,” she told you and even though you you weren't looking at her right now you could tell what was on her mind.

"Heh, Chihuahua," you grinned, leaning your head back and closing your eyes. The sofa sinking slightly next to you made your grin widen.

A shiver ran down your spine when you felt a perfect nail gently, almost tantalizingly teasingly, go down your forearm. "Mhm, how about you shut me up then? If it annoys you so much?" Astrid whispered and you swallowed hard. Since when did her voice have such an effect on you? Right. Since you got together.

You turned slightly to look at her. "Now that's just barbaric," you whispered back, only now noticing how close to you she was, mere inches separated your faces, and you had to resist the urge to look at her lips, fearing that glance would be your undoing. You both still had work to do. The bedroom wasn't ready, because you decided that would be a task you would finish together.

Astrid pulled back a bit, but she placed the tip of her finger on the corner of her lips. Fucking chihuahua, knowing exactly what she was doing as you looked down and instinctively leaned closer to her. "I wouldn't mind, if the approach is correct and what I'm saying isn't important," she looked so confident, raising her hand and caressing your cheek before sliding it to the back of your head and pulling you closer.

You stopped resisting and turned, getting on your knees and leaning over her with your palm pressing right next to her head, and you could see in her eyes that she had you exactly where she wanted you. "Everything you say is important," you could feel her breath against your skin as you both leaned closer.

"Even when I annoy you?" she asked, so close now you could feel her lips against yours. She looked so confident. So sure of herself, but the tremble of her hand gave her away. The bedroom would have to wait.

"Especially when you annoy me, just means I should listen more carefully," you closed the traces of the distance left and kissed her, humming at how soft her lips were.

"Mhm, Barnacle," she relaxed, holding you close, hands slipping underneath your shirt.

"Yeah, that's very romantic, Chihuahua," you chuckled, peppering kisses from her ear to her jaw Taking in the sound of her soft breaths as sheep gave him to her needs and desires.

"It is," she laughed, slightly out of breath as you tugged at her shirt and lifted it up a bit "It means you're hard to get rid of, and that's exactly what I want. To be unable to get rid of you for a long, long time," she said and never before did that word sound so sweet.

Taglist: @alexkolax @osnapitzmel1 @bee-keeping @nebthetautora @lololauser

@nwestra @rroyale-109 @gemz5 @social-pomegranate @mirage018

@the-thing-withfeathers @hello-mtf @leafanonsforest @jaxon-nathaniel-drake @niqmandu

Masterlist / First part / Previous Part

A/N: And that's another story complete. I hate to say this, but Astrid really wasn't as inspiring as I hoped she would be, still, I'm satisfied with how the story turned out.

[fluentmoviequoter]

Truth Without the Lasso

Requested Here!

Pairing: Jason Todd x fem!powered!reader

Summary: You're Wonder Woman's protégé and adopted daughter. Jason Todd admits that you look familiar, and you tell him secrets the gods have kept for your entire life.

Warnings: brief angst, fluff

Word Count: 1.9k+ words

Picture from Pinterest

Masterlist | DC/Jason Todd Masterlist | Request Info

19 Years Ago

The human, mortal-born baby washed ashore in Gotham Harbor was the talk of the town. Yet, when an out-of-town woman arrived in the dead of night and adopted her, the city quickly forgot the child, too caught up in its unraveling seam to wonder if the young girl found a home. Though they did not notice nor question her humanity, it was the first topic breached after she arrived on Mount Olympus.

“Who is the mortal?” Zeus demanded.

“She has no name,” Diana Prince, Wonder Woman, answered. “No family, no birthright. With the permission of the gods, I would like to adopt her, raise her, transform her into the warrior she is destined to be.”

Achilles looked to Zeus and nodded once. Other gods and goddesses followed, leaving their lofty perches to examine the young life nestled in Diana’s arms. She was at home with Diana, calm and content, and even smiled up at her. When Athena held the child, she squirmed and reached for Diana and cried against Hera’s chest.

“Diana has a connection to her,” Hera told Zeus, “one even you would have trouble breaking.”

“You have our blessing, daughter,” Zeus announced. “And for the child, age will bring her closer to her mother.”

Diana returned to Themyscira, growing to love the young child more each day. As she learned to crawl, walk, and talk, she showed early signs of powers like Diana’s. The blessing bestowed upon her by the gods brought her closer to her mother, indeed, and by the time you were old enough to leave Paradise, you’d met more than enough heroes, villains, and vigilantes to know your fate.

Present Day, Gotham

“What about you, Alkmini?” Flash asks. “Any ideas?”

You shrug, and Black Canary leans over. She whispers, “What about the public approach idea?”

“It’s stupid,” you mumble.

"I said the same about the idea to reform the JSA, but here we are,” Batman points out. “What were you thinking?”

You shift in your seat and look at the table as you say, “What if we just approach them as the JSA rather than trying to find some way to get past the Senate without exposing our identities?”

Batman looks to Superman, who undoubtedly has the most experience hiding his truest identity from humanity.

“Would Diana approve?” Clark asks, smiling at you.

“Why does it matter what Wonder Woman thinks?” Doctor Fate inquires. “Oh, right.”

“She would,” you answer.

“Then, in three weeks’ time, we’ll greet the approaching alien ship as the Justice Society of America, with or without the government’s approval,” Superman announces. “Meeting adjourned.”

“Patrolling tonight?” Bruce asks, seeming to spawn at your side.

“If they’ll let me tag along,” you answer as you prepare to enter the boom tube.

“The day my boys don’t let you patrol with them is the day they’ll need you most.”

“Alkmini!” Tim cheers as you join them on the roof.

“Drake,” you reply softly.

“You do enjoy reminding us that you know our secret identities,” Jason says, and you’re sure he’s smiling beneath the helmet.

You feel fingers along your belt, and the telltale crack of the Lasso of Truth precedes Dick asking, “ Do you care?”

“Of course not,” Jason answers, kicking his foot to remove your rope from his ankle.

“Why not?”

“I’m going to kill you,” Jason grits out, clearly talking through a clenched jaw.

“Where’s Robin?” you ask as you pull the lasso from Dick and return it to the hook along your waistband.

Jason breathes his thanks as Dick answers that he’s with Batman tonight. You feel more courageous than ever standing with Red Hood, Nightwing, and Red Robin. You’ve grown to love the bats and birds, and you know they care about you, too. Since learning their secret identities, you’ve noticed the long looks they send you, trying to decide if they should know who you are based on what they can see past the small mask your mother had forged for you. Diana’s your mother, biological or not, and your Themysciran family is as important to you as your Gotham family.

Batman flies across the sky before landing on the opposite side of the roof from you. You narrow your eyes and ask, “Did he get taller?”

“Let the criminals think so,” Batman rasps as he enters the light.

Damian is perched on his shoulders, his arms hanging as he blinks sleepily, leaning his head against the top of the cowl. Bruce’s gloved hands are wrapped protectively around Damian’s ankles as he moves carefully.

“Who can take him home?” he asks.

“I can,” you offer.

“Does Wonder Woman know where you are?”

“Of course.”

Bruce nods once, and when he tips toward you, Damian wakes. “Alkmini,” he says. “Your assistance on my Greek mythology essay was most….”

You wait for him to finish, but he slumps heavier against Bruce, asleep, and you take him carefully. Damian is incredibly special to you, and it isn’t the first time you’ve gone out of your way to protect him. You say goodbye to the boys, careful not to look directly at Jason’s red mask because you swear you can feel his intense gaze on you through the red material.

After you leave, Jason mumbles, “ So familiar. I should know by now.”

“How are the boys?” Diana asks, in her Wonder Woman costume – uniform? You aren’t sure of the correct terminology and are too far into training to ask – as she surveys the city.

“They’re good,” you answer. “Thanks for helping me with the braces. I’d hate to try to stop a real bullet without the practice.”

“Keep spending time in Gotham and you’ll appreciate the training even more.”

You chuckle and prepare to move your arms to deflect projectiles with the armor around your wrists once more.

Several hours after the conclusion of a rough patrol and a text from Dick, you knock on a locked window. Damian looks up from the couch and smiles before he lets you in. He hugs you tightly before stepping back.

“Where’s Jason?” you inquire, looking around the apartment.

“His room. You can go see him; I believe he’s sulking again. I don’t know if he reread Mr. Darcy’s first proposal or if tonight got to him,” Damian answers.

“Thanks.”

At the end of the short hall, you knock and wait for Jason to invite you in. He’s sitting on the floor, leaning back slightly with his patrol uniform still on, only his helmet and domino mask discarded beside him. You close the door and kneel beside his feet, giving him plenty of room.

“You know what one of my first memories is?” Jason asks, his head tipped back against the wall, his eyes closed. “When I was two or three, a kid washed up in the harbor. I don’t remember specifics, but it was a girl. The story stuck with me. I looked into it last night and read that a woman from out of town adopted her and took her away.”

You watch Jason and shift slightly. That was you, but you had no idea Jason knew about it. He opens his eyes and looks at you, smiling as you lose your fight to maintain eye contact and drop your eyes to his chest.

“Why haven’t you told us – me – who you really are?” he asks.

Your voice is soft, but you know Jason hears when you say, “Growing up, I wasn’t allowed to. And then, after that long, it just felt like… I guess I thought if I told you then it would be like I didn’t trust you before.”

“Do you trust me?” Jason asks.

You notice he didn’t even bother to include the rest of his family this time and pass him the lasso. With the end wrapped around your wrist, you say, “I trust you more than anything or anyone. Except my mom, maybe.”

Jason tilts his head, and his tongue runs over his lips quickly before he says, “I wasn’t aware this made shy people talk easier. I’ll have to remember that.” He tosses it back to you and places his hands on the floor beside him. “I trust you too, without the lasso.”

“Why’d you bring up the little girl from so long ago?” you inquire.

“There was a baby left in an alley tonight. Bruce said he’d look into it, but it just reminded me of that.”

You nod and roll your bottom lip between your teeth.

“You look so familiar,” he mutters. “Especially when you do that.”

Carefully, you move closer to Jason. He extends his arm, and you scoot forward until your hip is against his, facing him as his hand settles on your waist.

“Nineteen years ago, I was adopted by Wonder Woman,” you begin. “But, because of who she is, she couldn’t just take me in, she had to get permission from the gods.”

“The gods? Like Zeus, Athena?” Jason interjects.

You nod and continue, “They gave her permission, and gifted me some of her powers because we were connected and because I was a warrior.” You hold Jason’s intense gaze as you explain, “I was a warrior because I’d survived on my own and washed up in Gotham.”

“You visited with Diana,” Jason realizes. “That’s why you look so familiar! When Bruce first took me in, Diana would come by sometimes, and she always had a little girl with her.”

You smile, and Jason extends his legs out further. He pulls you against him, brushing his fingers along the bottom of your mask. After you nod, he peels it away from your face. It’s like he’s seeing you for the first time and the thousandth time, he thinks as he tugs you into his lap.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” you whisper.

“I trust you wholly,” Jason admits. “And that scared me. Do you remember playing together once, around Christmas the year after I stole Bruce’s tires?”

“Of course,” you answer as if it’s obvious. Something about having the mask off, being truly seen, makes it easier to admit everything. “How could I forget the Christmas I fell in love?”

Jason smiles and leans up, wrapping his arms around your waist as his nose taps yours.

“Are you decent?” Damian asks at the door. “I have a question regarding Odysseus and the suitors.”

“Is he reading The Odyssey?” you ask Jason.

“Sounds like a question for you,” he responds with a shrug.

“Are you okay? Finding a kid in a position like that can’t be easy.”

“I am. I’ll check on her tomorrow, and tonight hasn’t been all bad.”

“Come on in, Damian,” you call.

Jason scrambles for your mask, but you catch his wrist and shake your head as you stand from his lap. He pushes himself up beside you, and Damian enters with his nose in the book. When he finishes his question and looks up, his eyes widen.

You answer Damian’s question, but he doesn’t seem to hear it before he asks, “What’s your name?”

Jason answers with you, and you smile up at him.

“What’s that look for?” he inquires.

“I’m going to Themyscira for my birthday pretty soon. Do you want to come with me?”

“Will Diana threaten to kill me?”

“Probably.”

“I’ll go,” Damian offers.

“You’re all invited. But I should probably put Dick out of his misery and tell him that I am who he thinks I am.”

“Let’s take this,” Jason suggests, tugging your Lasso of Truth to pull you closer.

[runraerun]

Heard a random 90s rock song & it legit got me thinking about Steve & Billy meeting again in their twenties... Like what if s3 never happened? After the fight at the Byers, Billy kept his head down & avoided Steve? I see him as being consumed by a sense of guilt/shame & yet still not being able to apologise until, that is, the day of their graduation when he's suddenly overcome with a need to just get it off his chest. He's been crushing on this guy since he got to Hawkins & he blew whatever chance he had of even just a friendship with him, but it doesn't matter now cos he's getting out of this shithole as quickly as possible, but he can't have this guilt gnawing at him any longer...So maybe he deliberately makes sure he bumps into steve at some point and mutters out a: "Harrington. We need to talk." And sucking on a cigarette like his life depends on it, hands shaking, barely making eye contact, Billy gives the world's shittiest apology. And it feels like his heart's gonna beat out of his chest & Steve's just standing there, staring at him, an unreadable expression on his face, before saying something like: "yeah, man. I'm sorry for that night too." (In my mind either Max let drop something about Billy's homelife or Steve has deduced something's not right). Anyway. Billy finally feels like he's able to breathe again for the first time in months UNTIL steve unknowingly utters the world's most devastating sentence: "I think we could've been friends if, y'know, shit hadn't gone down the way it did...oh well." And steve gives a sort of little grin and a laugh as if what he said wasn't a major deal. "Heard you're headed back to California?" Steve asks, and Billy's barely able to nod, still struck dumb by Steve's previous offhand comment. And maybe someone calls Steve's name and suddenly that's it. The moment is broken & Steve's leaving with a "Guess I'll see you around, Hargrove... or not" and a goofy little salute. And Billy thought he'd feel better. But in fact he feels worse. Because holy shit. Steve just said they could have been friends. And that's gonna haunt him for years....

Cue a few years later and they run into each other in Chicago (listen, the idea of Billy returning to California only to realise it no longer feels like home and maybe it never did consumes me), but yeah. They bump into each other accidentally and holy shit. Steve Harrington. He looks almost exactly the same. Other than the fact he's grown out the mullet and holy shit, are those highlights in his hair??? And billy's stunned by what looks like a genuine grin of delight that crosses Steve's face once he recognises who he's walked into. And maybe they chat for a little while; Billy doesn't even know what he's saying he's so in shock at meeting his highschool crush again. But just like the last time someone calls steve's name and of course steve has a girlfriend, of course he does (joke's on billy, cos it's just robin) and suddenly the moment's broken again and steve's walking away with a casual "it was good to see you again, billy" and billy is gripped with the thought that he can't let steve slip through his fingers again. how many people get a second chance like this? he can feel his old highschool crush flickering back to life where it's buried deep in his chest and maybe steve will never like billy like that but holy shit. billy still remembers the day steve said that maybe they could have been friends if things had been different and things are different now so why not take a chance??? and billy has never felt so brave or so fucking scared in his life as he does when he steps forward and calls after steve: "Hey Harrington! Wanna meet up and catch up properly some time?" and Steve's attention is back on him and goddamn. Billy didn't even realise how much he missed those eyes until now. ANyway!! This got away from me!! But 90s Harringrove pls and thank. Also the song i heard was lightning crashes by live. like the lyrics aren't even that appropriate but there's such a nostalgic feel to it.

oh my god. OH MY GOD.

Anon, this whole message has got me in a chokehold. Like, it’s such a direct hit. 🎯🎯🎯Billy choking on an apology because he’s so painfully unfamiliar with the very concept, the absolute devastation of hearing the potential of being friends with Steve was there, but he blew it, the PINING… urgh. How Steve can unknowingly fatally wound Billy just like that.

AND THEN THE HIGHLIGHTS ARE YOU JOKING?!

I hope that things get away from you many many more times, because this was incredible.

Okay okay. Now, if I may, I will now attempt to match your freak.

ahem

—

By some serendipitous fuckin’ miracle, Steve agrees to exchange digits with him. They couldn’t find a napkin or any other god forsaken scrap of paper to write on, so they just scribbled their numbers down onto each other's arm. Billy was so fucking on edge that when he was peering down at the pale expanse of Steve’s mole-speckled forearm he damn near forgot his own phone number. Jesus, he’s a wreck…

At least whenever it comes to Harrington, anyway. Dude has like, Billy’s own personal strain of kryptonite woven in through his DNA or some shit. It would explain why his hands always get clammy and his knees feel like they’re made of fucking jello every time Steve flashed those pearly whites his way.

Christ, Hargrove, get it together…

Billy had spent the rest of the week running a finger along the wobbly looking numbers, fading more and more every day. Before they fade completely through, he finally finds his balls and dials Steve’s number.

A girl picks up, which… well, Billy knows Steve has a girlfriend. He didn’t know they’re living together though… but whatever, it don’t change shit.

“Steve around?” He asks, clenching the receiver in his fist so tightly that he can hear the plastic creak.

“Who’s asking?” The girl says, sounding pleasant despite her words. Sandy-haired, freckles. Cute, Billy remembers. Harrington always did go for the cute ones.

“Billy,” he answers, “Billy Hargrove. He’ll know who I am.”

“Oh, Billy,” The girl’s voice draws out his name like it’s an answer to a question that she’d been stuck on. “It’s about time you called.”

Which. That…

What the hell does that mean?

While Billy’s puzzling it out, she hears the girl holler for Steve, telling him Billy is on the line. His name is said with a weird amount of familiarity.

Billy switches ears and shakes out the stiffness in his hand. Focuses on breathing evenly instead of the steady flow of questions suddenly piling up in his head.

“Billy?” Steve’s voice, clear as a bell, asks from the other line.

Billy clears his throat, “hey, man.”

“Hey. I was just about to call you.” Steve says, doing that thing where he so casually drops bombs onto Billy’s world, leveling his cities with a passing word.

“Beat you to it.” Billy grins, and hears the little huff of a laugh on the other line.

“Always so competitive,” Steve teases, and Billy can just hear the smile. It makes his chest ache. It’s the sweet kind of ache, though. “Haven’t you ever heard it’s not winning that matters, it’s taking part?”

Billy shakes his head even though Steve can’t see him and sneers, “sounds like some shit losers say to each other.”

That gets a genuine laugh from Steve, all breathy and sharp, and Billy feels himself laughing along from the sheer thrill of getting Steve going.

“Jesus, I forgot how much of an asshole you are.” Steve sighs, but there’s no heat behind it. Just shit talk. It’s fine. What guys do.

“Yeah yeah. Can’t change my spots, or whatever.” Billy mumbles as he scuffs his boot along the floor. Fucking antsy. Jonesing for a cigarette. Just get on with it you piece of shit. He takes a breath and then takes the plunge. “So listen, we should hang out this weekend. I know a few good bars where we could catch up. Maybe get into some trouble.”

Steve makes a scoffing sound, “what kind of trouble are we talking here, Hargrove?”

His heart jackrabbits in his chest. He loves this part. Billy brings the receiver just a little closer to his lips. “The fun kind, Harrington.” He murmurs, voice pitched low.

There’s a brief, unbearably tense couple of seconds where Steve doesn’t speak. He just lets Billy dangle like a hooked fish. Static from the line. He doesn’t breathe. Then.

“Friday at 8?” Steve tosses the offer out, real casual-like. And with it, Billy feels the muscles around his neck and shoulders relax, like he got shot with a tranquilizer dart. Steve continues, “You wanna meet at the same coffee shop from before? I live in the apartment building just across the street from it.”

Fancy, Billy thinks. Of fuckin’ course. All the buildings on that block are the high end kind; with door men and balconies and working elevators. Billy only ever finds himself in that leg of the city when a pipe bursts or a sink gets clogged and Billy gets called in to fix it. Of course Steve’s living in the lap of luxury here in Chicago. Mommy and Daddy’s only child. Not that it’s his fault, Billy supposed. Some people are just born luckier than others.

“Sure, rich boy,” Billy grins, “bring your appetite though, I’m buying nachos.”

Steve heartily agrees. Because obviously. Who the hell could say no to that? Rich or poor, nachos are nachos.

It ain’t a date. It ain’t. It’s just two guys hanging out, y’know, catching up. For old times sake. Getting into some trouble, like Billy said. It ain’t date.

So what if he calls and asks Heather to pre-approve his outfit when everything he owns suddenly looks stupid on him? And who cares that he dabs double the amount of cologne onto his chest and triple down his pants—Billy likes to smell good, it ain’t a big deal. He wears a silver chain around his neck, the one that matches his earring, and undoes a few more buttons than usual to show it off. It’s cold this time of year but he figures they’ll be inside for most of the night anyway. Drinking, shooting pool, tossing darts. Shit like that.

Billy chain smokes as he waits outside of the coffee shop, sucking back one cigarette after the other, trying not to think about how he’s about to see Steve fucking Harrington again; the one who got away. Or, one one Billy never even fucking had a chance with in the first place, more like. He keeps wondering if he’s making a mistake. If he should just go home, forget he ever ran into that long legged, poofy haired, Bambi-eyed—

But then Steve’s there, handing Billy some froo-froo drink from inside (somehow they’d missed each other???) before he starts giving Billy a hard time for still not having a proper winter coat. Steve’s got highlights in his hair and eyeliner on his lower lashline and a spot of foam from his drink on the tip of his nose and Jesus fuck.

Billy’s in trouble.

[crepezinhos]

Has anyone ever noticed how most (if not all) soundtrack played when you’re in Tatarasuna resembles Scaramouche? I don’t even think it was intentional, but I need to rant about it down below:

This all started when I was some Nobushi at Inazuma and the game tracked some of them at Tatarasuna, and there I went with my Scaramouche on-field (named Kuni btw), and then out of nowhere this melody started playing:

And if you don’t have Spotify:

It wasn’t the first time I heard this playing in my game, but now that I was finally using my Scara, I genuinely started to feel horrible, no matter if my o jective was site acting me from it or not.

This song really sounds to me what would be the soundtrack playing when Scaramouche was still Kabukimono, wandering around Inazuma after his heartbreaks, trying to find a new home, or destiny while feeling empty and grief for his losses.

And specifically, when the beat ‘drops’ (because there’s no real anticipation in this music), it really sounds like the angry stage of grief, but still sounding soft and sweet just like Kabukimono was. The only moment of anger we saw coming from Kabukimono in the game was when that orphan kid died, and he was angry at that death, the world, his mother, the Archons, and himself. That’s why he immediately broke down in tears afterwards, he was in grief once again, just like this songs sounds like to my ears. But, since it does still sounds more error and negative rather than comforting to me, I interpret this music as Kabukimono deciding to transition from Inazuma to Snezhnaya and from Kabukimono to Kunikuzushi/Scaramouche.

That’s why I felt so horrible while playing with Wanderer there. All that grief and commotion in Tatarasuna, caused because of his existence, is now just a memory in the back of his mind. No one remembers it. No one remembers the beautiful, innocent puppet boy who roamed in search of a home and his own mother and attracted the eyes of the Fatui to that cursed land. Not even Ei remembers all the pain she unintentionally led Scaramouche to suffer, which hurts the most to me. She’ll walk through those toxic lands without any notion of the suffer her own son went through in there because of her neglect of him. And even if I have hopes that they’ll meet each other again, I don’t believe it would be a fair conversation (aka, Hoyoverse forgiving Ei’s actions and considerably-bad-writing in a blink just for the sake of her popularity in the fandom). And honestly, just imagining Wanderer walking my through the lands of Inazuma again, after so many years and traumas, makes me sick to the stomach, specifically one where he’d be in search of his mother again like Kabukimono used to do too.

Not that I think Scaramouche shouldn’t forgive Ei, but knowing how Hoyoverse glazes her, I’m pretty sure that he’d be just be like ‘Yeah, whatever’ and Ei still wouldn’t make any efforts to compensate him due to that approval.

But, going back to the point, I really do wonder if, by the time they were creating this and the other soundtracks for Tatarasuna, they had Scaramouche’s character in mind. I personally don’t believe that was their intention, but some people appear to believe on it. When I was reading the comments of the video, in search of anyone who felt the same way about that soundtrack and Scaramouche, I found this:

Another comment also pointed out that the ‘beat drop’ was a less intensified version of Scaramouche’s boss theme too (specifically in the Dominatus part). Do I personally see it? No, but both themes still sound a little similar to me in the end.

Anyway, I think this is end of my little rant about Scaramouche’s character and the sound representation of him. Hope this was somehow enjoyable to read about.

If you’re still unsure whether you understand me, I’d recommend do the same as me. Go to Tatarasuna (specifically in the forge), play the song and walk (no sprint) with Wanderer around it. Maybe that’ll make you understand, because there’s no way I’m the only who genuinely feels this emotional with Scaramouche’s lore.

Istg this man had a cultural and emotional impact on me…

[leoruby-draws]

I did a whole bunch of drawings for Jason's team two weeks back, so now its time to concentrate on Steph's team! Here we've got 4 new characters for her team, with a couple extra tomorrow as well. Lets go into to them, one by one.

First up is the lantern for the group, more specifically a Violet Lantern apprentice aka Miri Riam! Her reasons for coming to earth is unknown at the moment but they seem to have some connection to Carol Ferris. Carol's also a Violet Lantern and Hal's(Green Lantern) on-and-off girlfriend and occasional antagonist. Perhaps Miri was sent to become Carol's apprentice? I've got more info on whats happening there, but thats for later.

As for why Miri was chosen for the group, I knew I wanted some kind of Lantern for the team, but couldn't find a green lantern that was both in Steph's age group and have fun interactions with them. But then I thought, does it have to be a green lantern? I had a red lantern for Jason's group after all. I looked around and found Miri! I don't know her exact age but I knew she was a young adult, so I'm just gonna have her be around Steph's age group.

The Violet Lanterns Corps are very ...enthusiastic about the power of love and Miri's no exception. She wants everyone to know the joy of Love, she's honestly kinda annoying about it. I remember this one GL issue where she was destroying a city just to get Kyle and Soranik to resolve their love troubles. That pretty much became the basis for how I'm writing Miri's personality. Like I said above, I'll get more into Miri at a later time.

Next is Maxine Hunkel aka Cyclone, granddaughter of Ma Hunkel aka the golden age Red Tornado! I already posted a drawing of her a while back, I thought she'd make a fun fit for the team. She's has such high energy and so much enthusiasm I couldn't help but find her utterly endearing. I think at a later point she'll end up joining the JSA but for now she's just having fun with this team.

Btw I thought that maybe her grandmother, Ma Hunkel, could fit a similar role that the other Red Tornado did for Young Justice, helping out a young hero team. Just a way to emphasize how Steph and Tim's teams can serve as foils to each other.

Next up is the archer of the group, Mia Dearden aka Speedy II. Tho she should probably have a different name due to Roy still being Speedy atm. Maybe Speedette? Ehhh, gotta workshop that.

Anyways here's Mia and Steph meeting as civilians, with Mia showing off her bow. Mia seems to be in some sort of school uniform, perhaps Oliver is sponsoring her to go to a fancy academy? Her backstory is similar to canon, with Oliver saving her from bad people. I'm not sure if her story should be exactly the same as canon, since Mia is 10 but terrible things like that do happen in real life to young children. But I don't know if a goofy au like mine is the best place to show that. But for now lets just say Mia is currently trying to heal and become a hero like Green Arrow.

I imagine Steph and Mia get along really well, they just get each other in a lot of ways. Steph can see Mia might be hurting inside and wants to cheer her up, hopefully with all of Mia's new friends she can.

Last up is Jaime Reyes aka Blue Beetle III. Unfortunately I haven't drawn him all that much so no individual drawing for him, tho I do like him.

As for why Jaime, I remember liking him in the YJ cartoon and found him pretty likeable in the comics as well. But I've always like the spiderman hero archetype anyways, which Jaime fits really well (I mean, it was done on purpose). Static and Sideways also fit the archetype and are in the team as well. Arguably you can say add Steph to this too, probably more than Tim in my personal opinion.

Another reason I wanted to add Jaime is that he and Steph almost became teammates in canon, in a failed Young Justice project. What could have been huh. Third reason is more silly tho, if Barbara and Ted Kord start to date in this au, imagine how grossed out Steph and Jaime will be lmao.

So there's four new teammates for the team, but! I've got a couple extra for tomorrow! And later on I hope to finally post some more doodles of these characters (some of them are real old, more than a year old). Especially Miri, she turned out to be such a fun character, and I've always liked the all the lantern corps. Here's a bonus doodle of them btw (with bonus unmasked Sideways):

So many new members, well, hope you liked all that!

[redroomreflections]

Hotel California | Track 7 Infamous Lover

Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: Natasha Romanoff, frontwoman of the punk rock band Velvet Rebellion, falls hard for a woman she believes is too good for her. Their intense relationship unfolds in the chaotic world of rock 'n' roll, where they struggle to balance fame, personal demons, and their undeniable passion for each other.

W/c: 6.5k

Chapter 7/12

Masterlist | General Masterlist

Note: Some things are set into motion in this chapter.

18+ Minors DNI (mature)

Themes: love, fame, sex, drugs

It was an unusual morning for the two of you. Natasha stood in your kitchen, looking more at ease than you felt. Her mug was half-empty, cradled in her hands, while yours sat untouched on the counter before you, its steam curling upward in lazy spirals. The silence was deafening as you tried to process what Natasha told you. Isabella was still asleep in the other room.

Allowing Natasha to stay over had been a line you weren’t ready to cross, but the look on her face last night—the heartbreak she tried so hard to hide—left you with no choice.

You cared about her more than you could put into words, which made this more complicated. You didn’t want to be angry, but the way she’d shown up, raw and vulnerable, with a piece of her past you didn’t know how to navigate, was testing your patience.

Natasha broke the silence first. “I’m sorry for showing up like that. I just... I didn’t know where else to go.”

"Don't apologize for coming to me," You shook your head. You checked the time on the stove clock. 8 am. Neither of you had gotten much sleep. Isabella would be up soon, but she'd have many questions and comments. To feel like you had a handle on the situation, you began to make breakfast. Something simple. French toast and eggs. "It's just, I don't understand why she would call you, of all people."

"I don't hate her..." Natasha began. Then she stopped. Those weren't the right words. She set her mug down and rubbed the back of her neck. “It’s not what you think.”

You paused, spatula hovering over the skillet. Your tone was even when you spoke, and it wasn't as hard as before. "Then explain it to me. Because from where I'm standing, it looks like she still has a hold on you."

Natasha sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly. “She called me out of nowhere, drunk, stranded... I didn’t want to leave her like that. It sounds stupid, but I felt I had to help.”

“You didn’t have to do anything,” you said firmly. “She’s not your responsibility anymore, Natasha. You don’t owe her anything.”

“I know,” Natasha replied quietly, her eyes dropping to the floor. “But it’s hard. Carol... she was a big part of my life for a long time. Walking away from that hasn’t been easy.”

You softened at her admission, the frustration in your chest giving way to something more tender. “I get that,” you said after a moment. “But you’ve got to figure out what you want, Nat. You can’t keep one foot in the past and expect the future to wait for you.”

She glanced up, green eyes meeting yours, and you were struck by the vulnerability in them. You weren't sure what else to say, but before you could come up with something, Natasha closed the distance between you and gently cupped your cheek. You held your breath as she leaned in, her forehead resting against yours.

"I want you," she whispered, her words feathering against your lips. "I'm trying. I don't want to screw this up. I don't want to screw us up."

"Then don't," You muttered. "If this isn't what you want. If there's even a chance you want her, then you need to be upfront with me. If this is just sex for you..."

"It's not," Natasha said firmly, her eyes flashing with something fierce and protective. "It's never been like that. You know that."

"Do I?" You asked. "I'm trying to be levelheaded. You tell me your ex calls, and you go running."

"Not like that," Natasha sighed.

"You went to her," You pointed out.

"Because she was alone, drunk, and in trouble," Natasha shook her head. "I wouldn't have stayed. I just... wanted to make sure she was okay. That's all."

"Did she try to kiss you?"

"What? No," Natasha snorted, shaking her head. "God, no. She was drunk. Really, really drunk."

"So, nothing happened," you asked.

"Nothing," Natasha nodded.

"Okay," You nodded slowly.

"Okay?"

"Yeah," you said, returning to the stove and plating the food you'd made.

Natasha hesitated, then slid her arms around your waist, pressing her front to your back and resting her chin on your shoulder.

"I'm not going anywhere," she murmured. "I promise."

You hummed, leaning into her warmth. The knot in your stomach loosened, but it didn't completely disappear.

"I trust you," You nodded to yourself. It wasn't something you had to convince yourself to believe. She came to you. She told you the truth.

"That's good," Natasha nodded, a relieved smile gracing her face. She kissed the side of your head and then your neck.

"Mm, what are you doing?" You asked.

"Nothing," Natasha smirked.

"That doesn't feel like nothing," you teased, a hint of a smile on your lips.

Natasha opened her mouth to respond, but a small voice interrupted.

"What are we talking about?" Isabella yawned, shuffling into the kitchen with messy hair and sleep-heavy eyes.

"Nothing," you and Natasha said in unison, the words tumbling too quickly to sound convincing.

"Whatever," Isabella rolled her eyes, clearly unimpressed, as she climbed onto one of the kitchen stools. Her gaze shifted to Natasha, and she grinned. "Natasha, you're here."

"Yeah," Natasha nodded, taking a small step back from where she'd been standing close to you. She looked unsure, her hand brushing awkwardly against the counter. You understood the hesitation—it was a delicate situation, having her here when things between the three of you were still so new.

But Isabella didn't seem to share your reservations.

"Good," Isabella chirped, swinging her legs under the stool. "I was wondering when Mama would let you come."

Your cheeks flushed. "Bella," you said, trying to keep your tone even.

"What?" she asked innocently. "I like her. You do, too, right?"

Natasha stifled a chuckle, and you shot her a look.

"Natasha's just visiting," you said, redirecting the conversation.

"Sure," Isabella said with a sly grin, clearly not buying it. She turned her attention to Natasha. "Anyway, Mama, could you do my hair today? In a different style? Something that isn't babyish."

"You are a baby," You pointed out as you slid her a plate of French toast and fresh fruit.

Isabella rolled her eyes again. "I'm almost ten, Mama."

"Still a baby," You stepped around the counter to wrap her in your arms. "My one and only baby."

Isabella squirmed away, giggling. "Mama," she whined. "Stop. You're embarrassing me in front of company."

"Sorry," you apologized, smiling at Natasha, who was watching the scene with amusement. "Old habits die hard. I'll think of something to do to your hair. Eat your breakfast now, and we can walk the dog."

"Yay!" Isabella cheered.

Natasha's hand found yours, her fingers entwining with yours and squeezing lightly.

"We?" Natasha asked softly.

"Yeah," You nodded.

Natasha gave you a soft smile, the kind that reached her eyes and made your knees weak. You were falling for her, and there was no stopping it.

********

A part of you was glad Isabella was talking to Natasha. The other part was concerned. There were still things you needed to talk about that you hadn't figured out yet. And this whole Carol situation last night had left a bad taste in your mouth. You didn't like the idea of her and Carol reconnecting. Not when it meant Natasha was spending time with someone who had hurt her before. Especially when that someone was her ex, especially when that someone was Carol Danvers, you didn't hate the girl. You barely knew her. Simply hearing of her reputation was enough for you.

You didn't want to get too in your head. Not as you were walking with Isabella and Natasha around the neighborhood.

"I'm in intermediate-level gymnastics," Isabella explained to Natasha. She held loosely onto Bear's leash as the dog pulled her over to a random bush. He really was a good walker most of the time.

"That's pretty cool," Natasha grinned, her hand holding yours. "How long have you been doing it?"

"Since I was six," Isabella boasted.

"She's pretty good," You added. "Gymnastics, ballet, and dance. She's the busiest kid I know."

"It's fun," Isabella smiled. "Keeps the mind going and the body healthy. Did you play sports as a kid?"

"I did ballet," Natasha admitted."Yeah, it was a long time ago."

"Did you like it?"

"I did," Natasha nodded. "I was good at it, too."

"Were you any good?" Isabella asked.

"Kind of," Natasha chuckled. "It was a long time ago."

"When did you stop?"

"Well, I didn't quit," Natasha explained. "I got older, and my body changed. The type of moves they have us do can be hard on the body."

"Oh," Isabella nodded, a little less cheerful. "So, did you ever hurt yourself?"

"Not seriously, no," Natasha shrugged.

"That's good," Isabella sighed, relieved. "I hurt myself last year. A twisted ankle."

"Yeah," Natasha nodded.

"I cried because it hurt," Isabella continued.

"Of course, it did," You smiled. "We'd take a break until you were feeling better. Then you were back at it."

"Yeah," Isabella sighed. "Rookie mistakes."

"You could say that," You grinned.

"Are you busy on Wednesday, Natasha?" You could see by the smile in her eyes that Isabella was about to ask her something without your permission.

"Wednesday? What’s on your mind?"

Isabella's face lit up with a mischievous grin, her eyes darting toward you briefly before returning to Natasha. "We have this recital rehearsal, and we get to bring a helper for some of the moves. Can you come?"

You groaned internally, already anticipating how this was going to play out. "Bella, we talked about this. You’re supposed to ask me before inviting someone."

"I know," she said innocently, twirling a strand of her hair. "But Natasha’s really strong. She’d be great for the lifts!"

Natasha glanced at you with a raised eyebrow, clearly amused. "Lifts, huh?"

"It’s true!" Isabella insisted. "And besides, you said you used to dance. You’ll understand better than Mama. No offense," she added quickly, glancing your way.

"None taken," you muttered, trying not to roll your eyes.

Natasha seemed thoughtful for a moment. "When is it? I could probably stop by," she said, looking at you for permission.

"Great!" Isabella cheered, jumping up and down. "It starts at four on Wednesday, and we can pick you up."

"Or you can meet us there," you suggested.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Isabella said, waving her hand dismissively. "Can we go to the park now? Pleeeease?"

"I think we can manage," You said, reaching out and taking Bear's leash. The dog had been patiently waiting during your conversation. You didn't think he'd wander off but didn't want to risk it.

"Yes!" Isabella cheered, throwing her hands up.

"Actually, I have a studio session now," Natasha checked her phone. "I'm pretty late, and Wanda's going to kill me."

"Oh, well, do you want us to walk to the house with you?"

"No, I have my car keys," Natasha denied. "I'll find my way."

"Oh, well, okay," You nodded. Isabella gestured for you to kiss her goodbye. You rolled your eyes at your kid and pulled Natasha down the sidewalk out of earshot. "So, I'll talk to you later?"

"You bet," Natasha nodded. She pressed her lips to yours, giving you a sweet, tender kiss. You leaned into it, savoring the taste of her and the feel of her. You'd never get tired of this.

"Okay," You whispered as you broke the kiss.

"Okay," She smiled, squeezing your hand. "Bye, Isabella."

"Bye, Natasha," Isabella called.

"See you, little one," Natasha smiled, winking at her before leaving.

You watched her walk away, admiring the view. It wasn't until she disappeared around the corner that you rejoined your daughter.

"You're in looove," Isabella teased.

"Maybe," You smirked.

"You should totally marry her," Isabella commented.

"Oh, should I?" You asked. "It hasn't even been that long."

"When you know, you know," Isabella said sagely.

"That's very true," You nodded.

"She makes you happy, right?"

"She does," You agreed.

"And I like her." Isabella listed. "You should totally marry her."

"How about we take things slow, okay?" You chuckled. "Let's see how things go."

"Whatever," Isabella giggled.

"What's with you and this whatever thing?" You wrapped an arm around her shoulder.

Isabella shrugged dramatically, leaning into your side. "It’s just a vibe, Mama. You know, like, whatever happens, happens."

You couldn’t help but laugh at her sass. "I don’t know about you, but you’re too young to drop wisdom like that."

She grinned mischievously. "Maybe, but someone’s got to keep you in check."

You rolled your eyes, smiling as you hugged her tighter. "I think I’m the one who needs to be keeping you in check."

Isabella hummed, content to let you have the last word for now.

The two of you enjoyed the rest of the morning together, laughing and playing and making up silly songs.

******

When Natasha arrived at the studio session, initially, she didn't know what to write. She'd had a list of songs in her black book that she knew she wanted to lay out. But for the last hour, she'd been staring at the blank sheet, her pencil hovering uselessly over the staff.

"Are you writing?" Wanda asked.

"I am," Natasha nodded.

"Then why aren't we recording?"

"Just... a little writer's block," Natasha said.

"Writer's block?" Wanda repeated. "Do you have anything in mind?"

"I do, but..." She shook her head. "I try not to write such personal things. I have a melody and a couple of lyrics in my head, but I don't know if I should do it."

"Becuase you're in a love triangle?" Wanda guessed.

"No, it's not even a love triangle," Nataha shut her book. "It's not even a love anything. Carol is my ex. I blocked her number. Y/n is my now."

"So why the blockage?" Wanda asked.

Natasha paused momentarily, trying to figure out what was holding her back. Her heart told her to write, but her head told her to be smart.

"It's not like I haven't written love songs before," Natasha started.

"But these are about Y/n," Wanda nodded. "And Carol. I get it."

"Carol was a long time ago. What we had... it wasn't good. We didn't end things on good terms. Y/n, on the other hand, is something I want to try. Someone that means something to me."

"Then write about it," Wanda shrugged.

"I just don't know if I should," Natasha said. "Writing a song about Carol? Fine. We weren't happy. But Y/n. She's someone special. If I write about her and it doesn't work out..."

"You can't live your life worried about the what-ifs," Wanda pointed out. "If you want this relationship and're serious about her, then you must be willing to put yourself out there. That's what people do. They take risks. They have faith in one another. It's a leap of faith."

"When did you become a philosopher?" Natasha teased.

"I'm not," Wanda chuckled. "I just think you're overthinking it. Write the damn song, Natasha. Or I will."

Natasha opened her mouth to argue but thought better of it. "Okay, it starts like this..."

"I love her, I want her, but my heart cannot recover,

Stuck in a whirlwind, won’t you get me out?

Fading in and out of what we were before,

But I'm losing me when I keep begging for more."

Natasha sat back, tapping the pen against the notebook's edge as she let the words flow through her mind. Wanda watched her carefully, a knowing smile on her face. Natasha had always been cautious, especially regarding matters of the heart, and Wanda had seen it enough times to recognize the hesitation.

"You know," Wanda began, leaning forward, "that song is pretty powerful already. The emotions are raw. You don't have to have everything figured out right now. Sometimes, you just need to let the music do the talking."

Natasha nodded, eyes still focused on the page, her mind racing with the thoughts of Carol and you of the past and the present. The confusion between what she'd been through and what she now had with you. It wasn't easy, but it felt right.

"You’re right," Natasha finally admitted, her voice softer. "I just... I don't want to mess things up with Y/n. She’s different, Wanda. She’s... real."

Wanda reached over and squeezed her hand, her expression gentle. "I know, and that's a good thing. It's a sign that things are changing for the better. Take it one day at a time, and don't overthink it."

"That's easier said than done," Natasha sighed.

"True," Wanda chuckled. "But I'm always here for you, even if it means reminding you not to be so damn stubborn all the time. Now, let's write some more of this song."

Natasha grinned, picking up the pen and turning back to the page, her fingers already itching to start composing. "You know, I'm glad we decided to work on this project. It's been a long time coming."

"Me too," Wanda smiled, her eyes lighting up. "And hey, we might actually finish something. We recorded three songs with the guys. If we finish this and like it...we might actually be getting somewhere with the album."

"Don't jinx it," Natasha laughed. "But I wouldn't mind recording more. Especially with this."

"Yeah, yeah," Wanda waved her hand. "Let's just get this song finished. Then we can talk about the next one."

"Deal."

As they worked, the two women found themselves in a comfortable rhythm. The back and forth between them was familiar, and they quickly lost track of time. The song began to come together, and Natasha found herself getting more and more excited. This was the kind of music she wanted to be making—deep, soulful, real.

They spent the rest of the day working on the song, taking breaks only to eat or use the bathroom. When they finally called it a day, both women were exhausted but pleased with their progress.

"Okay, now for the next one," she said with a knowing grin.

Natasha raised an eyebrow, wiping her hands on her jeans. "Another one already? You don’t waste any time."

Wanda chuckled. "What can I say? We’re on fire. So, I thought… maybe we should try something different for the next single."

Natasha tilted her head in interest. "Different? How?"

"I’m thinking we stick to the punk vibe, but… I want to experiment with something soulful, a voice that's a little outside of our usual sound." Wanda's eyes sparkled with the excitement of the idea. "I was thinking Y/n could be a good fit for it."

"Y/n? As in, my girlfriend?"

"Yes, and my friend," Wanda nodded.

"You think she could do it?" Natasha asked, her chest warming at the mention of the you.

"Yeah, absolutely. She's got a great voice, and her lyrics are killer. Plus, she's not afraid to be vulnerable. That's the kind of emotion we're going for. What do you think?" Wanda began to pack up her things.

"I think it's a big ask," Natasha said. She sighed, her thoughts racing. "I guess I get the appeal. It’s just… Y/n's got her own sound. I don’t want to pull her into something that’s not authentic to her. Plus, she doesn't sing anymore."

"I get it, and I wouldn't be suggesting it if I didn't think she was right for the song. I've heard her sing before. She's got the range and the passion." Wanda looked at Natasha, her expression serious. "It's worth a shot. Maybe if she hears the song, she'll feel inspired to sing again."

"Maybe," Natasha said, though she wasn't sure. The thought of you singing again filled her with hope, but she didn't want to get her expectations too high. You'd clarified that singing wasn't part of your life anymore. Still, the idea of having you collaborate with them was intriguing. "Okay, I'll bring it up with her. But no promises."

"Fair enough," Wanda nodded. "I'll let you take the lead. Just don't wait too long. I think it could be a game-changer for us."

Natasha gave her a skeptical look. "A game-changer? Isn't that a bit much?"

Wanda shook her head. "Nah, not when it's true. Besides, the world could always use more soulful artists. It's a win-win."

"All right," Natasha relented. "I'll talk to her."

"Great," Wanda smiled. "I'll see you later."

"Bye, Wanda," Natasha said, waving her off. She had a lot to think about.

The question was, where did you stand on all of this?

[whumpbby]

What if an AU...

Where the Xianle quartet are dropped into another universe - one where MQ and FX never left XL.

Maybe it was some curse or some miracle that allowed people to see what would happen if their lives followed a different path? And all three - XL, MQ and FX - always wondered what would happen if they stayed.

So, they get to see it.

FX and MQ stayed by their prince's side and the misery continued - MQ tried his best to keep everyone afloat, but being constantly undermined and distrusted started to push him towards the edge. His pulling away caused FX and XL to distrust him even more, and it was so easy for Jun Wu to point them against each other.

And fire.

All it took was something small - the last valuable thing the Queen owned going missing in the night. MQ finding a suspiciously well-paid job for some travelling priest and bringing home actual money, happy to feed them all properly for the first time in months... but he didn't even get to the shack when FX and XL came to meet him and the accusations started. Thief. Disrespectful. Betrayal. Scum.

MQ, worn down to the bone, finally snapping and his anger pouring out. You're useless. Weak. Pampered little shits that wouldn't know how to light fire without him. Stand there accusing him of selfishness while all they do is take and take! The useless king who led the country to ruin, useless queen that can't prepare a cup of rice! Useless prince that wanted to save the common people, but cannot lower himself to walk amongst them! Useless bodyguard who cannot do anything worthwhile, but run his mouth!

And Feng Xin loses it - pain and hunger and despair and hate overflow, and in a moment of blind rage he stabs Mu Qing.

Mu Qing dies cursing them all - useless hypocrites. He dies laughing - who next they will turn on? He dies in the dirt, the food he brought spilled around him.

And, like in a play, the queen rushes to the scene - she found the hairpin! It wasn't lost! She must have misplaced it! It wasn't....

...it wasn't stolen.

But by then it's useless. Useless. Useless. Useless.

Feng Xin, hands covered in blood, breaks. The blade sill stained with Mu Qing's blood easily parts flesh on his neck, and before Xie Lian can react, Feng Xin falls into the same dirt he murdered Mu Qing in.

They haven't left - and Xie Lian still ended up alone.

They haven't left - but this was worse. Worse. Worse.

They haven't left - and all it accomplished was more arrows in Jun Wu's quiver, more ways to hurt Xie Lian, more ways to try and break him. They haven't ascended, they just died, hungry and worn out, curled in the dirt at the feet of their prince who, once again, has proven himself to be useless...

Them leaving when they did, as painful as it was to admit, was the only thing that saved their lives.

[evenfallwriter]

Ghost Foxes AU - 01

Have seen a couple of snippets of 'Ghosts' the tv show, and now i cant get the thought of all of the foxes being Ghosts and Neil ending up moving in there.

The house is the Baltimore house which Neil grew up in, the one where his father and mother had been in at one point, a place that Neil wants nothing to do with, and is desperate to get rid of. He can't however, when he realizes that he is not alone. When he realises that so many innocent souls are stuck there, and if they don't end up leaving, they will perish.

He isn't a good man, he just doesn't want countless ghosts following after him after the house is demolished, doesn't want to die only to be surrounded by spirits that have been waiting for him to give his last breath, it's absolutely not because he feels somewhat guilty.

The first time he sees one of them is when he is in the basement, fighting for his life at the hand of his father. He sees a ghost, a woman in her mid thirties, telling him to hold on, that he will be alright. He sees another man with tribal tattoos, telling him that he believes him, that he didn't survive through all the sh*t he went through just to give up then.

And Neil does make it.

He makes it, is carried off to the hospital and barely makes it on time.

But it doesn't change the fact that he makes it.

He is only 16 when that happens, and for 2 years he wishes to have nothing to do with the house, but when it is requested of him to return back there and to go through his mother's stuff he ends up agreeing only for his uncle's sake.

His mother has more stuff than he had thought, and there are also stuff that had once belonged to other victims of Nathan's, which he finds himself feeling somewhat responsible of.

So he stays, at first planning on staying only for a night or two, but ends up staying far longer than he had planned in the end.

At first, he sees them like flickers of light and nothing more. Their faces growing clearer only when they finally find peace by Neil letting know their families of what happened. Of Neil handing over their remains to their families.

It is only after all the lost spirits, the vengeful ones, those that had fallen at the hands of Nathan, that he finds himself able to catch sight of the others.

That he is able to see the foxes.

The first one he meets is Abby, whom he is unable to remember for such a long time because the night at the basement had been rough and he had blocked off memories from back then, even if he hadn't done it intentionally.

Abby is amazing, and somewhat keeps the other ghosts away for a while.

She is there after each nightmare so are almost all of the others, but Neil doesn't know at first, and at some point she will end up becoming something akin to a mother.

Nicky is the second one, a bundle of energy that get Neil used to having others around, and there to help him get not-so-lost in his head at the end of the day. He also manipulates Neil's dreams every now and then too, shows him of softer things, of fields free of anything but flowers, of the sunrise, of an exy field that is endless.

He blocks out Neil's demons as much as he can, even though it means that they get plastered in his own mind instead.

Allison, surprisingly enough, is the third ghost Neil meets, followed by Seth and Dan and Matt. They care for him, in a way that no one else has, they have seen his scars, have witnessed him get them and someone of them had even tried to stop Nathan more than his mother ever had.

Neil is at first uncomfortable by their love, but slowly grows accustomed to it.

The next ghost he meets is Wymack, and he breaks apart when he meets the man, when his eyes land on the tattoos on his wrists because he remembers the man, not only from the basement back then, but also from sleepless nights that were only made bearable by the presence of Wymack who told him countless stories and is the reason that his obsession with exy began in the first place.

(Had to get these ideas written down somewhere before i ended up losing all of it, have so many more ideas for this au but this post is getting quite long so will probably make a second post about it, feel free to send me asks <3)

[sevs-corner]

Gary “Roach” Sanderson if he was in the CoD: MW Series (2019-2023)

LOOK-- I really like Roach (i watched the remastered mw2 2020 recently) and I wish he comes back later on in the current MW series. So for now (and my coping-ness) let’s imagine his dynamic with the gang! (These are all HCs with some in between dialogue and plot, and I'll be using some major plot points from the campaign. A lil' heads up, its been awhile since i've watched the gameplay so the timeline might be a bit confusing lol) Masterlist here ! And a previous HC of Roach here !

Roach gets recruited around the same time Gaz does, after the mission in London when Gaz’s team was trying to stop a cargo right in the middle of the city.

Roach is one of the many officers that gets called in for back-up

And then finds himself working in tandem with Gaz, covering each other’s backs as they try and secure the hostages

Price shows up as per usual and saves the two from under the rubble

Afterwards, with the two surprisingly not broken, they handle the aftermath and comes in the scene where Price recruits Gaz after he admits they had a great deal of info on the bust but was unable to act on it

Roach agrees, seeing the movements and reports that Gaz makes to their boss in the SAS, and feels mutual of how restricted they are right now

Seeing their conviction, Price gives a call to Kate and adds an additional person to the team-- Roach.

Then they all go on all sorts of missions together, Roach actually being the more grounded but chaotic of the three

So, lets say he adapts the shenanigans we do as players when we play as his POV in game

Randomly, he is picking up all sorts of guns from the ground, constantly swapping and taking too long to loot enemy bodies (that sometimes Gaz does it for him so they could move on quicker)

Price on the other hand just lets him does his thing-- until he rushes forward like a maniac and go guns blazing in the Embassy

But, he also gets scolded by plugging up comms from humming-singing, and--

what the fuck- PUT THE BANJO DOWN--

He's the type of person to be like that one guy who plays jazz music on his comms in a gun fight (yeah i made a gundam thunderbolt reference mhmm)

You'd think he'd go deaf but no, he takes peace in the chaos

Reveling and thriving in it actually, like he’s too used to the scene (he is but he would rather work in the moment then act in worry and in constant stress)

Roach was almost tempted to go with Alex and Farah for their cause but thinks about how he’s a much better fit with the 141 guys, and how he could see himself working in the squad long term

He eventually meets Johnny and Simon on the mission to get Hassan

Yet that goes to high and hell when he was a part of the A squad, barely clear of any wounds- luckily, nothing fatal

But the situation he found himself made him more energized with serotonin, easily making quick work of the combatants in his vicinity— doing his best to cover for his comrades who were still recovering

He knows Soap and Ghost would be here immediately but he tries to convince to focus on the mission, to let him handle it as he hunkers down for a moment to reload

They both deny, checking out first the crash site before checking out Hassan, and coming up empty

Until Roach finds the metal shipping carrier, calling over Soap, then Ghost and showing the find of that disdained American rocket

Soap, is obviously confused, and doesn't quite piece it together until Kate discusses it with him

As the others got busy with their personal mission

Of course, we're having Roach join the Ghost-Soap duo in Las Almas

Because of needing more man power in capturing Hassan of course

He hops into the mission somewhere in the middle, in the mission in getting Hassan with the assist of Graves and his shadows

Roach definitely hissed at this man on instinct and had to be held back by the armpit by Ghost

Even though he had a bad feeling swirling in his stomach, he kept it in and somehow ended up on the same squad as Graves going into the Oil Rig mission

Anddddddddddddddd you can guess how it went with him-- horribly

Personally, I can see how Graves to be this straight-laced guy when it comes to missions in a way that, if someone diverts from the mission or does something that may jeopardize it even a little-- he is going to flip

So that's what Roach exploited, the comms in his ears blowing up every time he goes for a risky kill or -instead of going for a stealth kill- he's going in guns blazing with a very, very exhausted Graves behind him

But the thing about Roach, no matter how reckless he is, he gets the job done

Graves wanted to oh so leave him in the Oil Rig before he and Soap exploded it, but sadly Ghost had told him and Alejandro to get the hell outta there before he could (such a damn shame)

But at least he gets to capture him in the streets of Las Almas

He got quite unlucky actually, about to meet Soap and Ghost but one wrong move got him captured

Ghost and Soap obviously becomes worried, and they're (with Rudy) are more determined than ever

And yep, this is the moment where Roach just sees red

Wreacking absolute havoc in his way with rage filling his veins

If there was anything that was going to tick Roach off, it would be his own allies hurting

Loyalty, whether in the military or not, is special

And if you use him and his allies for your own bitter ends and means?

Oh, you are in a world full of hurt

So much so, that you wished he spoke the merciful words, "pick and God and pray" by your death bed

He doesn't, not for Graves and definitely not for the man he called the General- Shepherd

He swears that Shepherd counted his lucky stars that night when they couldn't locate him after "getting rid of Graves and his lackeys for good"

But it doesn't end there- their job never does

This time, he accompanies Price and Soap into infiltrating the building for Hassan, leaving Overwatch to Ghost and the other team climbing the tower led by Gaz

He is back to, not even exploding the glass and breaking it, but pushing himself off the side of the building and cannon-balling straight through (with, suprise surprise, little to no injuries sustained)

He's a miracle ball of sunshine really

Soap then follows through and Price just... he could care less at the moment with Hassan (who is once again near their grasps)

Roach wanted to stay and help Price (who didn't get shot fatally but was still hurt from the blow) but his captain said to go

Thus, he went--

Doing his best to cover Soap as they finally steal the detonator from him but eventually run out of guns, and eventually--

Get

Shot.

Soap has to decide now- whether to save his comrade and friend or to stop the fucking missile from destroying the white house

Roach knew the cogs that was turning behind Soap's eyes, so he grabs his cheek and head butts him

Telling Soap to get his priority straight as he forces himself back up to distract Hassan

Soap tries to decode and hack the missile as soon as possible when the coast was clear

Luckily, he had just a couple of seconds to spare

Unluckily so, he saw Roach's pliant body in Hassan's hands- being dragged right in front of him

Soap is enraged, wrestling and trying to get the upperhand on armed Hassan

Luckily, Ghost always has his back-- shot on point, direct, and done in one click

With a heavy breath, he gives his thanks to Ghost before calling an evac- checking Roach's condition

Hands are cold to the touch but his artery pulse--

Faint!

By the time MW3 rolls around, Roach is up and at 'em!

Refreshed and recovered with the proper treatment and therapy

Some grazes to the nerves on his shoulder but its still all good and working--

"Ow!"

Yeah, he can't overexert it like before

Which makes the Tf 141 relieved...for now

A/N: Cont for the MW3 part soon! I just wanna freshen up with the plot on Makarov 'cause it was a bit confusing to follow so yeah lol