#Cutting a part off of the base plant and putting it in the ground and a new one grows??

[drawbudd]

flower boy

[chososdiscordkitten]

How JJK Men Jack Off.

Includes: 𝑯𝒊𝒈𝒖𝒓𝒖𝒎𝒂, 𝑪𝒉𝒐𝒔𝒐, 𝑮𝒐𝒋𝒐, 𝑵𝒂𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒊, 𝑮𝒆𝒕𝒐, 𝒏𝒅 𝑻𝒐𝒋𝒊 Content: jjk men fondling themselves to the thought of reader hehe, GN!Reader in all of em, will put cws before any of em :>

(a.n) I listened to sooo much country while writing this</3 nsfw under the cut- duh. I can go into severe, painful, thousand word long tangent on Choso's but I didn't wanna make this too long

MDNI

Hiromi Higuruma

Empty office, cursing, established relationship, spit, stressed Hiromi is sexier

I see Hiromi as the kind of guy to not do it so often. Before becoming a sorcerer I think he'd be at work, late at night, alone in the office. Rereading a casefile he couldn't crack and feeling irritation pound in his skull. Not knowing why he was so snappy or curt as of late. Then it would hit, because he hasn't gotten that poison out in a while. He'd do it more as a chore at first. Thinking with one orgasm he’ll be fine for another few days.

But when he’d undo his belt, the metal clinking making his eyebrows furrow. Slow fingers unzipping his slacks the way you'd do it, black briefs greeting him with a semi beneath the fabric. Pulling up the hem of his button up and tucking it between his teeth. The kind of man to not need porn or need to look at magazines to get hard. Hiromi had his imagination and relied on that. 

If we included you in this, he'd remember the last time you were on your knees before him. How your pretty lips wrapped around him perfectly- how your eyes sparkled when you looked up at him. And if we're talking single Hiromi, he’d just picture a hand other than his own. No face hovering above it or anyone in specific.

Hiromi would start off slow, pulling his cock out in his office chair. Feet planted on the ground to keep the chair from swiveling. Looking on his desk to see if there was any lotion or anything to use as lube. The disappointment he felt when he realized he'd have to use his own spit and precum was humbling. But he was already on the road to being fully erect so what could he do?

Taking a light hand onto his tan base, sighing a straggled breath as he felt the warmth fill his palm. Fluttering his eyes closed as his head tipped back onto the plush chair. Lightly stroking his hand up and down to coax a few tears of precum from his pinkening tip. Pulling his hand from his hard cock, blinking his eyes open and gathering saliva on his tongue, spitting it onto his palm before hurrying it back to his cock. Wincing when he felt the spit press against his tip. 

A soft exhale leaving his lungs as his hand squeezed his member. Spreading his spit and the clear precum down his shaft with closed eyes, lips parted as he took soft inhales, gently stroking his cock as he felt his orgasm build. 

Definitely not the type to edge or overstimulate, especially when he's just jacking off to relieve some tension. 

Hiromi tried to make this last as long as he could, his lips threatening to let out small comments to himself as he pictured you between his knees, “Feels so good-” he’d mumble quietly between soft moans. The hem of his shirt falling from his teeth. Trying to keep a slow pace from how good he was feeling. His skin searing beneath his suit as his hand tightened its grip.

Keeping a steady pace, his hand squeezed past his tip, a small ‘hah-’ in the shape of a moan left his lips at the sudden feeling. Eyes shut tight as his hand quickened its pace, the corner of his lips curling into a smile as warmth flooded in his tummy. 

Unashamed whimpers would leave Hiromi’s lips, knowing you weren't there so he didn't have to hold them back. Bottom lip tucked beneath pearly white teeth as he struggled to let out a curse, “F-fuck-” as his wrist turned over, pumping himself at a new angle, his tip grazing his palm as his breathing quickened, eyes cracking open as his orgasm neared its edge. 

Looking for a place to spurt his cum onto- not wanting to make a mess. Only to stand on wobbly feet, cock in hand as he pumped himself, hunched over his desk. Using his other for stability as shaky eyes scanned the top of the dark wood top. Littered in various papers and notes, looking over to the picture of you and him he had framed on his desk. 

With a loud groan his seed spurted out of him without warning, huffs evading his throat as his hand slowed its pace. Softening cock in his palm as the realization he had just spilled his mess onto that stupid case file. Hiromi puffed in annoyance, letting go of his half soft cock and looking down at his mess. Heart pumping in his chest as he felt the small twitches in his body as he came down.

But he still felt that irritation fill his mind, even more now knowing that he'd have to reprint those stupid papers. Knowing when he got home he'd have to do it again and again till that irritation left his veins. 

Choso Kamo

Pillowfucking, phone sex, use of sweet boy, baby and sweetheart, reader talks him through it, mentions of reader getting penetrated but nothing in detail.

With Choso I like to think he doesn't like doing it so often, especially if he has you. It almost feels like a betrayal to him. But when you'd be too busy or too tired, he'd do it. When I picture it I think of him laying on his side, in your shared bed, holding your pillow tightly laying his pj bottoms, no t-shirt so he could feel your scent on his skin.

Choso’s eyes were closed, inhaling deeply into the fabric. Thinking about you as he tried to sleep. And as his thoughts wandered through the memories of you, they trailed to the most intimate ones. Your blushed cheeks that his thumb would caress, the way your eyebrows furrowed when you were close, how soft your hands were against his skin. 

Your gentle touch, the way your eyelashes would clump together when tears of pleasure would fall from your blinking eyes. How your soft skin feels against his lips when he would pepper kisses on every inch of your skin. The way you'd grip onto his back so harshly you’d leave hand prints when you’d finish.

Little by little, inhale by inhale, his cock showed him just how much he missed you. With a harsh inhale of your scent, his cock dripped a tear onto his pants. Softly bucking his hips up into your pillow, trying to soothe the ache that grew between his thighs. Huffing softly as the blood shot directly to his cock, tucking his lip between his teeth as he closed his eyes. Thinking about you- your eyelashes, your lips, the beauty marks that had the privilege of staying on your skin every waking moment. 

Softly whining as his cock brushed against the pillow, he let out an unsatisfied puff from the lack of stimulation on his tip. Sitting up on his knees and pressing his growing bulge against the cloth, keeping his hands on the pillow as he looked down at it. Thinking how pitiful it was that he was considering doing what he was thinking of. He sighed, feeling his hair block the sides of his vision. 

Choso trailed his hands from the sides of the pillow, picturing it was your torso- not the useless cotton. Wondering a hand to his thigh, blinking his eyes shut and picturing it was yours. Undoing the small bow on his checkered pants slowly, like you’d do it. Chest adorned with a roaming blush as his cockhead dribbled.

Pushing the band of his bottoms down as his cock strained against the fabric, a soft whimper leaving his lips at the tug. Wincing when it sprung from his pants, looking down and seeing how hard he was. Pinkening tip dribbling small tears of precum that smeared against the pillow case, easing himself down on the back of his calves, slowly bucking his hips- the tip of his needy cock dragging against the cloth cover. 

Straightening his spine and tipping his head back, his hands on the pillow gripping harshly. Mouth cracking open as soft pants left his throat. Slowly thrusting against the pillow as he pictured it was you- frustrated that the warmth was non existent against his cock. 

Oh but if you were here, it would be so warm. You'd be so warm, so wet just for him, picturing how you'd hug his cock perfectly. 

Bucking into the cloth as his hands clutched onto your pillow harshly, soft grunts leaving his throat, threatening to form your name between them. Rolling his hips against the damp cloth, facing the ceiling as your name slipped from his plump lips. Hazy eyes going to close as he felt the knot in his tummy slip. 

So focused on trying to cum, desperate hips rolling onto the pillow. Half lidded eyes aiming to roll back as he bucked harshly.

A loud ringing coming from his phone a few inches away from him threw Choso from his focus. Seeing your contact photo blaring on the screen was all it took for him to cum, hot cream colored tears spilling on your pillow. Unclenching his hand from the abused cushion and shakily reaching for the phone, small hic’s leaving his chest as he swiped ‘answer’, slowly rolling his hips back as he eased down from his orgasm. 

“Hello?” he sighed breathlessly, the word sounding shaky and almost in a whimper as he hunched over the pillow, his cockhead brushing against his mess. Still hard and unsatisfied as waves of his previous orgasm rippled in his chest. ‘Hey- I know we talked earlier but-’ you were greeted with heavy breaths as you spoke, ‘-I felt the sudden need to call you…?’ your tone turned suspicious as he closed his eyes, his hips threatening to keep thrusting- greedily craving another orgasm. 

He responded with a small whine, the urge to keep bucking into the soiled pillow was too much to think clearly. ‘What's wrong, why are you-’ you smiled with a scoff, “I just- really missed you-” he let out a small ‘ah-’ as he thrusted up into his cum, holding the phone close to his ear as you gathered what he was doing.

‘Awe, I miss you too sweet boy.’ you grinned, Choso huffed at the pet name. He let out a drawn out whine, his sensitive tip fucking into his mess at your words. Choso’s hips followed no set pace as he spilled out louder whines, showing you he was close. ‘There you go baby~’ you spoke sweetly, being able to recognize the adoration filled sounds he made when he was close. He grunted harshly, his hips rolling without pattern as he felt that knot come undone again in his tummy. 

Eyebrows furrowed so tightly it was starting to hurt, dragging his hips back and forth as he worked himself towards another orgasm.

‘Therree you go.’ you hummed, hearing his heaving ease as he muttered small curses between moans. Being thrown into an orgasm almost immediately after the last one. His lower abs contorting as his tip spurt more of his seed onto your pillow, knowing if you had found out he was doing this on what you rested your head on, you wouldn't have been so nice, so he made sure to keep that little tidbit to himself. ‘Feel better?’ you crooned through the phone, hearing the softening whimpers, Choso nodded his head slowly, a droplet of sweat trailing down his temple. 

“Yes-” he took a deep breath, “I feel better- thank you.” he huffed with a shaky tone, cheeks pink and tingling from your kindness, slowly easing off of your pillow, ‘Don't thank me sweetheart, I didn't do nothin.’ he tossed himself onto the bed, phone on his ear as he heard your soft tone. ‘S’late, clean up nd go to bed for me, okay?’ you instructed, hearing him let out a small grunt at the task. Twitching as he laid on his side.

Shaky hands and fluttering eyes as he smiled at your tone, “Okay. Goodnight-” he breathed your name sweetly, hearing you bid a goodbye and hang up. Shivering shoulders and twitching thighs as he eased down from the orgasm you threw him into violently using your words. Sighing as his hair eased onto the pillows, frustrated knowing he'd have to clean up his desperate mess sooner or later.

Satoru Gojo

Public bathroom, phone sex, use of baby, dirty talk (duh), gojo calls reader pretty, insinuated reader also yknow

Gojo for sure squeezes his snake more often than not. Especially when you aren't around to assist, the type to try and use his imagination, eyes squeezed tight trying to focus. But he'd get frustrated enough to pull out his phone, he'd try to find pictures or videos of you he took or ones you've sent him. 

And if we're talking single Gojo, no you included, he would hesitantly watch porn- only for a few minutes, and never a complete video. Too cautious of the whole ‘porn addiction’ thing.

I see him being between missions, tense and walking past the many shops on the sidewalk. A shit eating grin plastered on his face when he saw the banner for a sex store a few feet away. Remembering how you made a comment of how hot you found phone sex. And how it's a shame that he never calls you unless it's a few seconds long to tell you he's on his way home.

Stepping out of the store's entrance, small pink bag in hand as Gojo looked for a public restroom that was secluded. A small giggle left his throat when he found a public family bathroom. Taking his phone out of his pocket and clicking the dial on your contact, waiting as he held the phone on his shoulder. Placing the pink bag on the sink, pulling out the small bottle of lube and ripping the plastic seal.

‘Hey- I was just thinkin’ about you.’ You spoke through the phone, hearing him let out a delighted scoff, “I was thinking about you too~” he smiled through his tone, making you suspicious because he only used that specific tone when he was up to no good. ‘What’re you up to ‘toru?’ you asked with a detective tone, hearing a cap open through the phone. 

“Nothin hehe~” he grinned, placing the phone on the counter and clicking the speaker button. “You remember when you told me how much you liked phone sex?” he grinned shamelessly, pushing his blindfold up and eyeing the small bottle of lube before taking his hand to his clothed cock. Palming it slowly as he waited for your reply. 

‘Toru I'm at work-’ you defended, knowing exactly where this was going. Fondling himself with a smile, “Technically so am I~” he grinned, undoing his belt and the button of his uniform pants. “You don’t even have to do nothin- just talk to me~” he smiled, pulling his cock from his briefs and looking at it awaiting your reply.

‘Are you being serious?’ you asked, rushing out of your cubicle and hushing into the phone. “Mm- I’m being so serious.” he hummed through pursed lips, “Take some responsibility - I'm leaking cause of yooouu~” he smiled, tilting his head as a dribble of precum spilled from his tip. ‘Hold on- lemme go to a bathroom-’ you hurried to the elevator- feeling a sprinkle of shame at how riled up the thought had you.

Gojo spurt out a decent amount of lube onto his hand, a toothy smile adorning his lips as he pressed it to his cock with an over exaggerated moan. Your eyes going wide at the sudden increase of volume. ‘I thought you weren't coming home till friday?’ you urged in a whisper, hearing him let out small whimpers as he stroked himself slowly. “I do, but I missed you sooo-” the word formed into a moan as he squeezed past his tip. Pressing your thighs together hearing the vulgar sounds.

“-so so much.” he finished the sentence, making your face heat up and closing your eyes. Picturing what he looked like right now. Rushing out of the metal doors and into the family bathroom, locking it and pressing your back against the wall as filthy moans invaded your ears. ‘I missed you too, ‘toru.’ You sighed, hearing the loud squelching from his hand. 

“Fuck- say that again.” he whined, Gojo’s eyebrows pinched together as his hand sped up its pace. ‘I missed you so much Satoruuu~’ Playing into his game, hearing a content moan fall from his lips as he thumbed the edge of his tip. Gojo let out a small huff feeling his hand push him up that ledge, ‘You sound so pretty ‘toru~’ You smiled, thighs pressed tightly together as he let a forced laugh leave his lips. 

“I’m sooo close-” he smiled, pressed against the wall next to the sink as he stroked his cock harshly with filthy squelches, knees threatening to buckle. ‘You get all hot nd bothered by just my voice?’ you teased hearing his breathing quicken, “I get all hot nd bothered by just thinking about you-” he huffed, the phone screen turning on and seeing your contact photo, “You're so pretty-” he whined, almost complaining as his back threatened to arch against the wall.

“I wish you were here-” he huffed, hearing you smile through the words, ‘I know- I know.’ you smiled, inching your hand closer to the band of your bottoms, “M’cumming-” he clenched his teeth together, “fuckfuckfuck-” he babbled through pursed lips, teeth gritting with hot ears and cerulean eyes rolling to the back of his skull.

Reaching into your own bottoms to take care of the issue he raised. With a loud grunt he came- spurting his mess onto the filthy floor, uncaring if he made a mess. His shoulders shivering as his pale shaft twitched against his own hand. The sounds of his unashamed whimpers ringing through your ears, ‘Now that you're finished-’ you smiled, shoving your bottoms down and hearing his heaving slow, chest flexing from the ripples of his orgasm ‘Take some responsibility for how you have me.’ you mocked his words.

The words made his softening cock spring back to life, “You're so naughty~” he teased almost in a whine, hearing you let out a content hum, ‘If im naughty then you're filthy.’ you took a sharp inhale, batting your eyes closed as your hand continued slowly. “I am.” he muttered, stroking his cock once more as his ears ate up the small pants and whimpers from the phone. “I am.” he admitted proudly, trying to shake off the sensitivity that rumbled through his cock head.

Kento Nanami

Thinks of reader whilst yknow, cursing, not a lot cws needed, just really, really messy

Yet another man who thinks of it as a chore. I see Nanami coming home from work, no blazer or tie and three buttons undone at the top of his collar. Not having the gall to actually do it anywhere but his home. Exhausted from being on his feet all day, lounging on the couch with a glass of bourbon in his hand. Thinking of things he could do to unwind. It wasn't late enough to go to bed, nor was it early enough- or respectful to call you to see if you'd want to stay the night. 

Offensively manspreading, Nanami’s hand subconsciously trailing to his groin, gently placing his palm onto his bulge as he thought, hesitating to move his hand against himself. Pretending to ponder what he could do other than this.  

Reading would take too much focus and that's precisely what he did not want to do. Tired physically- but not tired enough to sleep. I see Nanami as the type to think about it for a while- toying with the idea of it for way too long. 

And when he finally thinks on it long enough to start thinking about you, he'd put down his glass, palming his semi through the layers of fabric. Softly exhaling at the friction, closing his eyes and dropping his head back as his lips parted. Palming himself over his khakis as his mind flashed through images of you. 

The kind of man to try and picture your face, your laugh, your features. But as a man does, his mind would trail to thoughts of what hid beneath your clothing. And if Nanami doesn’t have you, he'd try and think back to the last porn video he watched, just something to get his imagination going. 

With a frustrated sigh Nanami removed his palm from his buldge, undoing the belt buckle with hurry, unbuttoning his slacks and sliding down the zipper- almost tearing it from how hurried he was to get his stiffening cock out from the fabric.

Gasping softly as his hands hesitantly pushed the band of his briefs down, greeted by his leaking cock that needed a small push to be fully erect. Wrapping his calloused fingers around his thick shaft, exhaling as his digits caressed the trail of precum oozing down his shaft. His breath picked up as his hand lazily stroked his stiff cock. 

Brown eyes struggling to stay open as his lips parted ever so slightly, daring to let out low moans directly from his lungs. 

Unwilling though, they rumbled from his throat as he grazed the pads of his fingers over his crying cockhead. Shivering at the ridges of his finger tips against his cockhead. This man's cock is soooo sensitive, I know it in my bones. 

Tucking his bottom lip between his teeth as he tried holding back the moans, tightening his grip as he stroked softly past his darkening tip. Huffing out of his nose as his other hand started undoing the buttons of his shirt, feeling his skin radiate beneath the blue fabric. Thick fingers struggling with the tiny buttons as the hand on his cock sped up with urge.

As he let the air hit his pecs, a light blush spread on his swelled chest. His lungs threatened to falter, attempting to remind himself to breathe. 

Huffing heavily as his hand undid four buttons before clutching onto the edge of the couch tightly, knuckles turning white as his breathing quickened to pants. His vision went dizzy behind closed eyes picturing you, the knot in his tummy tightening little by little. 

Nanami’s pink tip oozing precum assisted his tight fist as he stroked himself, a low whimper leaving his throat as his head ducked forward, muttering small curses between heavy breaths as his hips bucked into his fist lazily. Gritting his teeth as he hung his head back onto the couch. Throat dry from his heavy pants, a small shiver rumbling through his shoulders as his fist squeezed past his tip.

Nose scrunched and eyes half closed, a sliver of light invading his pupils as he pushed himself past his climax. Shoulders trembling as he slowed his hand on his cock, working himself through the high. Mouth hung open in a dry moan as the feverish seed coated his hard working hand. So much of it that it trickled down to his twitching balls. 

Groaning as the mess coated his cock, feeling it soften in his palm as he stroked it slowly- eyes threatening to roll back from the oversensitivity. Heavy breaths and twitching shoulders as he overworked himself for the second time that day. Pumping his semi soft cock to try to draw out the overwhelming bliss he felt at that moment.

Holding onto his soft member as he looked down, distraught at the mess that coated his hand and his slacks. Making a note to scold you for how desperate you had him before he got up to shower. Feeling his shirt stick to his back from how worked up he was.  

Suguru Geto

Established relationship, dirty talk, wakes up horny ;~;- he looks at a pic of reader with HIS SUBSTANCE on their face, spit, cursing, mentions of face fucking 

With Geto I think he tries to be clean with it- in the shower or make sure to shoot his load onto something to avoid making a mess. I see him having trouble staying asleep, huffing and puffing. Tossing and turning as he tried to find a solution unconsciously. Blinking his eyes open, confused as to why he was sweating in his sleep.

Sitting up and parting his lips trying to soothe the dry mouth he woke up to. Only to look down with furrowed eyebrows and squinted eyes, a groaning huff from his chest ignoring the tent in his boxers as he looked over at the clock. 3:45 am.

He’d lay back down and try to go back to sleep. Not wanting to find the energy to deal with the paining bulge in his boxers. Switching positions, squeezing his eyes shut as he toyed with the idea.

But you know what Geto thought was a better solution than dealing with it himself? 

Looking over to the you shaped bump below the blankets, seeing you steadily breathing as he called your name once, too quiet for you to hear. Wondering why you weren't sweating just as much as he was. Huffing at your sleeping state, sitting there for a few seconds, blinking away the sparks of sleep he wasn't able to melt back into. 

Looking back down to the betrayal that chose to wake him up, moving his lips to the side as he picked up his phone from his nightstand. Easing off of the bed slowly as he stepped out of the bedroom, not wanting to wake you.

Walking towards the guest bathroom- wanting to keep as many walls between you and him as possible so you wouldn't stir awake. Standing in the dim bathroom, the moon illuminating the porcelain sink as Geto unlocked his phone. Gently palming the hard on that was bulging in his boxers as though he was a teenage boy. Almost scolding himself for not being able to control himself as he slept next to you. 

His eyes scanning the filthy pictures he took of you. Gripping his fingers around his clothed cock that threatened to make a mess in his boxers. Taking his hand from his bulge and holding his phone in the other. Geto’s free hand making quick work of his boxers and slipping them past his thighs, landing on the ground with a hiss from his lips at the cold air hitting his crying tip, his thumb scrolling as he tried finding the perfect picture. 

Licking his bottom lip as he placed his hand on his bare pale shaft with a sigh, looking at the photo splayed in full screen on his phone. His seed coating your cheeks, your nose, and most of it on your tongue as you looked up into the camera with wonderfilled eyes. That was more than enough to pull his hand from his cock and spit onto it harshly. Not having the patience- nor caring enough to actually go get lube from the bedroom. 

Teeth gritted as Geto stroked his cock- his grasp tight to make this as quick as he could. Low eyes looking directly to his phone, holding his grunts in his chest as he tucked his lip between his teeth. Working his hand against his shaft roughly, squeezing past his tip as he spread his precum down his member. The hazy state of his mind assisting with how good this felt. 

Placing his brightly lit phone onto the porcelain as he gripped onto the ledge of the sink, trying his best to hold back the choked moans that he knew would be too loud for this time of night. 

His hand was rough, and quick as he fondled his painful erection. Feeling his eyes roll to the back of his head as he fluttered them closed. Lips parting as a soft grunt left them, picturing you were on your knees below him, practically able to feel your warmth radiate onto his cock. So in detail that his lips taunted to form the praises he’d spout to you.

Knees threatening to buckle as he formed the words, “That's it-” he whispered, hand clutching onto the edge of the sink harshly, the tips of his fingers turning white from the lack of blood flowing to them. “Just like that.” his voice was louder- clear enough to make his cheeks tingle from the embarrassment of what he was doing right now.

Geto let out a hushed whimper from trying to contain his moans, leaning his hips over the sink as he felt himself ascend to the pinnacle he woke up to take care of. His hand made vulgar squelching from how hard he was working himself, fist so tight that he was practically strangling his cock.

Holding his fist onto the porcelain as he angled his hips higher, thrusting back and forth violently as he let out choked grunts. Treating his fist as though it was you he was mouth fucking, not his hand. Lowering his head down- strands of raven hair falling to the sides of his profile as his eyebrows knitted together, mouth hung open in a drawn out grunt. Raising his hips as he angled the tip of his cock into the sink. 

Breathing in ragged breaths as he muttered a “M’cumming-” over and over again. With a louder grunt than he expected- he threw himself off the ledge of his orgasm, eyes squeezed tight as his hips refused to falter in how quickly he was thrusting into his fist. 

Harsh hips slamming his cock into his hand, “That's it-” he spat through gritted teeth, mind fogged as he tried wrangling his overwhelmed senses. Feeling himself come down from the orgasm he pulled from deep in his lower tummy. His hips slowing their patternless thrusts, his bottom lip trembling as he overworked his cock.

Hesitatingly slowing his hips as his cock softened in his hand, softly humming as he eased his grip against the sink. Ragged breaths leaving his chest as he tried to contain the whimpers that he had been holding in since the beginning, his head pounding from the forced silence.

Hazy eyes looking down to the mess he spilled onto the porcelain, barely able to see it from the lack of light. Exhaling quickly as he reached the hand that was clutched on the edge of the sink to the metal knobs, watching as the water washed away his seed. 

Reaching for a decorative hand towel and holding it beneath the warm water. Cleaning his shaft slowly with a hiss before washing his hands. Dying them with the matching hand towel. Tossing them into an empty hamper and lazily pulling up his briefs. Acting like this was no big deal as he walked back into the bedroom. Feeling at peace as he drifted back to sleep.

Toji Zenin

Cold showers, he feels things for reader, 2 orgasms, cursing

Another man who prefers not to make a mess, after a few attempts of jacking off in other places, Toji found it easier to get it over with in the shower. I see him as the type to Pavlov himself into associating showers with orgasms- which makes me laugh in all honesty. So much so that he thought the solution would be cold showers. But those never worked. 

Slowly lathering himself with soap as he kept his eyes closed, the cold water against his skin as he thought of what he was to do after this. Making a sloppy mental checklist as his mind trailed to thoughts of you. Of the last time he saw you, and how his chest swelled knowing he was going to see you later that day earning his soft cock to respond with a mindless jump. 

Water making his chest glisten, accentuating the ridges of his abs as he tried fighting off the filth that invaded his mind.

Irking his head to the side as he felt that specific warmth pool in his lower tummy. Sucking his teeth sharply as the cold water washed off the soap bubbles from his body. Cracking his eyes open in defeat, cock raising into a semi as he pushed back the hair that stuck onto his forehead. Nodding his head ‘no’ back and forth at the stupidity of his cock getting hard by just the thought of you.

Placing his calloused hand on his fat shaft, closing his eyes once more as the water provided him with more than enough lubricant. Heart pounding in his chest as his thumb rubbed against the edge of his reddening cockhead. Toji’s scarred lips pressed tightly together as he tried holding back grunts from deep in his chest. 

Furrowing his eyebrows- trying to put on a farce of this not feeling like anything for no one but his pride. Toji’s mind went blank as he stroked himself, wrist turning over his tip as his other hand planted onto the wall, trying to keep his balance. Clenching his jaw as his precum blended in with the running cold water.

Toji always tried to make it quick- but his cock never agreed. Often taking 20-30 minute showers trying to make himself finish, not because he couldn't- but he'd try to think of nothing as he came. Not wanting to condition himself into actually liking you.

Trying to keep his mind blank as he fought off the conquering thoughts of you. His eyebrows threatened to unfurrow as he felt himself succumb to those heartfelt thoughts. A small grunt left Toji’s parting lips, thankful it was disguised by the running water. 

Tightening the grip on his cock as he put more power behind his heavy stroked. Ducking his head as his hair stuck onto his temple, holding his hand on the wall as his lungs started panting, his fist quickening its harsh movements, mind full of the sweetest poison you planted into his brain. 

“Fuckk-” Toji drew out slowly, his hand squelching past his fat tip as his abs clenched, trying to catch his breath as his unforgiving hand refused to listen to his mind.

His calves burning from how hard he was flexing his muscles- all of his focus drawn to cumming as the water pulsed against the crown of his head. Lips parted and eyebrows pinched upwards, nose crinkled as he felt the premature orgasm rip through him. Heavy pants between grunts as his seed gushed from his tip, disappearing down the drain. Mouth hung open in an ‘O’ as his hand slowed its movements. 

Being able to clear his clouded mind as his fist worked him down. Catching his breath as his still hard cock pulsed in his hand. Groaning in frustration at the need to cum again. Almost spiteful, he tightened his grip once more on his cock, thighs spasming as he overstimulated his cockhead. His eyes blinked to the back of his head as he pulled his focus from his shaft to his tip. 

Toji’s expression contorted into a scowl, clearer grunts leaving his rasped throat as he pulled himself into another orgasm, pushing his hand off the wall and leaning onto the cold tile. His head pressed against the damp wall as his knees dared to fold, mouth hung open once more as the cold water trickled down his searing skin.

A drawn out string of curses as his balls tightened, all but pouting, he came to the intruding thoughts of you. Practically hyperventilating as a loud grunt left his sweltering chest. 

Toji’s cum oozing out of his tip, sighing contently between throaty grunts. Working himself past the pinnacle the thought of you brought him to. Cursing you mentally for how you had him. Heart pounding so hard it was painful, trying to fill his lungs with air as his mouth hung open in a soundless moan. Taking his hand from his softening cock as he leaned into the wall, swallowing harshly as he steadied his breath. Turning to face the shower head, his shaky hand reached for the body wash once more, nodding his head ‘no’ to himself as the irked feeling seeped into his mind again. Lathering up his body as he washed off the sweat that mixed with the freezing water.

-

I had so much fun writing this. If only y'all saw how much p0rn I watched trying to study men jorking it. my internet searches were insane bruh. the ciggie I lit after I posted this was like a reward

[harveybwabbit92]

Grocery girl: Ken Sato x Reader pt. 3

You were a delivery girl who was frequently dispatched to the famous baseball player's Ken Sato residence, you were a nobody that anyone hardly paid attention to, until you found the legendary baseball passed out on his front steps looking like hell, being a bit of worry wart you help him inside and that things took a HUGE turn when you find yourself playing mommy for a giant baby dragon....

Part 1, Part 2

-----------------

*"Help me raise this baby Kaiju"* "Pfft, easier said then done..." R/n muttered as she unpacked her stuff in one of the guest rooms, which was by the way; bigger than her apartment, R/n's things barely filled the space leaving huge gaps in the room making it feel little empty.

"Maybe I'll buy a couple plants or something..." She sighed and went to go check with Ken on what exactly she was supposed to do? Like R/n knew she had to help with the baby...but, how exactly? Not everyone can turn into a superhero the size of a skyscraper! She'd like to know what exactly his game plan was?

Meanwhile Ken was pacing around his base while baby was napping in her chamber. He had no freaking clue what to say to R/n, his brain was so fried from a lack of sleep he wasn't thinking straight when he came up with whole co-parenting thing, it was all starting hit him all at once!

What could he get R/n to do? She was just regular human! What if she had work the same time he had a game? what if baby has an explosive tantrum and accidentally hurts R/n or worse? The death of a civvy would not look good on Ultraman's track record, then again; neither was hiding a baby Kaiju but-

Ken's train of though was cut off by R/n coming down the elevator it was kinda weird seeing her in regular clothes and not that obnoxious red and blue Depotman uniform, having traded in said uniform in for a t-shirt and shorts, Ken straightened himself out and tried to make it seem like he wasn't on the verge of a complete breakdown as He and R/n got down to business...whatever it may be.

R/n's responsibilities were meager at due to her human factor, she was basically a glorified playmate to distract the baby whenever Ken was away. "...Feed her when her tummy rumbles, the burp her." R/n interrupted him with a snort.

"Right!~ burp her, right, right- I'll do that, But first lemme just call up Zordon and see if he has any spare Megazords laying around..."

"Ah, a woman of culture I see..."

"Lonely childhood."

"Hm..."

So...yeah, R/n burping Baby was out of the question...almost, they tried testing at method that Mina suggested; it involved R/n running up and down barefoot along the little Kaiju's back as a alternative and while it did work. the downside was it was very unstable for R/n to keep her footing and Baby's need to spit up afterwards caused some problems.

The infant immediately jumped to her feet with R/n still on her back and sent the woman tumbling off towards the metal floor, where she would've broken her back or neck if Ultraman hadn't quickly caught her. "Okay, not doing that again..." Ken said with a sigh as R/n slapped her hand over her mouth. "Ugh, I think I'm gonna barf too if I don't get on solid ground." She groaned Ultraman carefully put her down and announced his intention to clean baby up outside seeing as she wasn't completely done spitting up yet.

R/n meanwhile was looking at the putrid green mess already pooling around on the floor and was worried he was leaving this for her to clean up, until the she noticed the glowing "window" was actually a force field; sea pooled into the room as ultraman and Baby stepped outside before it was all pumped out by a drainage system. "Seriously, how much did this cost to build?" R/n wondered out loud It was then when Mina revealed that this basement use to be part of a spaceship that Ken's father used to arrive to Earth.

Cut to Ultraman rubbing Baby's back as she finishes up her business when the rare silence was broken by a faint yell from somewhere...It sounded like someone yelled "What?!" at the top of their lungs.

To say, things got better for Ken with the extra help would be stretching it R/n again had no idea what she was doing and was mainly in charge of keeping the baby entertained for a couple hours so he could get so sleep or go to work, but unfortunately life's a B, and Though they took turns waking up at odd hours feeding her, or bathing her. (R/n uses a large push broom as a scrub brush.. or at least tries to, that baby Kaiju can run!),

Ken was still heavily needed for heavy clean up duty and that left him exhausted during his games, also he noticed R/n hadn't gone to work once since she moved in with him which caused him to jump to the conclusion that she quit, cos that what the last person who lived with him back in LA did (Which resulted in nasty break up).

So he confronted her "No I didn't quit my job, I took maternity leave." R/n said affronted by his accusation, Ken looks at her skeptical how she could possibly gotten on leave when she doesn't have kids? "I told my boss that a friend of mine had just became a single parent and asked me for help so I'm moving in with them, he gave a month off to adjust my new responsibilities." She further explained that it was Mina's idea and the bot pretended to be the friend on the phone with R/n's boss to confirm her story.

"Okay, if this is the case, then where the heck have you been going when I'm on baby duty?" The exhausted baseball player pressed R/n looked at him slyly. "Toy shopping." Ken at her befuddled "Toys for who?" Cut to Mina helping R/n pull in a large cart with a tarp over it out of the elevator and in front of the baby who looked at it curious as R/n removed the tarp revealing a adult pedal car (It looks like the ZAT van from Ultraman Taro) and a 9ft tall Oni? action figure. (it's Momotaros from Den-o)

The baby cooed reached out to them but R/n stopped her for a moment before pulling out what looked like a giant tan rolled up mattress, Ken wondered if it was for chewing on or something, until the delivery girl cut the straps and plastic wrapping open to reveal it was a vacuum sealed 15 foot tall stuffed bear!

Baby squealed excitedly bouncing on her feet before grabbing the bear hugging it; she started playing with rest of the toys she got. While Ken stares on in awe. "I'd figured she was bored being stuck indoors all watching nothing but TV, I know was..." The baby was apparently acting out a hero saving her bear from a car crash she saw on TV show.

"How much did that stuff cost you?" Ken asked watching the scene feeling guilty about earlier; he pretty much accused R/n of being a leech when she was spending money for him. "The car and figure were from my job, rejected packages that were rotting away in the warehouse for the last 10 years; figured they might as well be used for something." She said the paused for moment seemingly in thought. "Annd you kind of paid for the bear." Ken looked at her confused how he could've possibly paid for the bear, R/n noticing his confusion and sighed. "Of you don't remember, last month? when I brought you coffee and donuts? You acted like a spaz and tipped me?" The cogs were spinning in Ken's head before grinding to a halt now remembering.

"Right....How much did I give you?

"Around 30000 yen or so..."

"...That's three hundred dollars, Yer telling me that bear cost three hundred dollars?"

"Hard to believe, but yes. It was a prop for photos in this designer children's photography shop I deliver to, the guy was selling it cos it scared the kids, I thought we could make better use of it."

R/n said with a little shrug Ken hummed and went back to watching the baby and trying not to doze off, only to be alerted that he had to go to work and begrudgingly made his way to the elevator much to R/n's concern the delivery girl could feel the tipping point was coming, she just hopes that when it does Ken knows he's not alone now and can try to open up to her a little more... 

------------

Cross posted on my A03/Squidgeworld/Wattpad.

-----------

@mf-rockstar,@pattycakes2024,

@the-unhinged-raccoon,@karebears-klub,

@oh-kurva

[luvrxbunny]

Bunny I was randomly thinking about slow sex with Miguel with the !Cradle Sex Position! 🥺

i had to google what that was and omg the fucking fire that starting in my stomach AHHHHHH

also there were a bunch of diff photos so i hope this is the one you were talking about

warning 18+ - an animated photo of the position is below the cut

not proofread and probably some improper grammar CUS THIS WAS JUST SUPPOSED TO BE A BLURB

wc: 1k

it'd be really emotional sex. like maybe you almost died on a mission, ohh- like andrew garfield's spider-man! you were falling like that and Miguel had seen that canon event for other spiders so many times that he thought this was it- that no matter what he does, no matter how hard he tries, how quickly he shoots his web it wont reach you, he wont catch you, you're gonna die and it's his fault. but then his web reaches you and you're shaken up but completely safe.

he doesnt leave you alone for the rest of the day. he becomes worse than your shadow because at least your shadow can't insist your keep one part of your body on his at all times.

once you guys get home you ask him why he's so worked up and bent outta shape by what happened today and he breaks down. tears begin to stream down his face despite how aggressively he's trying to rub them away and you force him to sit down and explain himself to you.

you’re being so gentle as you comfort him, so caring and loving in a way he’s never felt before. so ofc he gets hard 🥳

he pulls you into his lap slowly and just stares at the shocked expression on your face once you feel that he’s hard. you’re sitting across his lap because of how he pulled you in. your legs run off the sides of his thighs as his legs stay planted on the ground.

he readjusts himself, slides down a bit and spreads his legs before wrapping a thick arm behind your thighs, one behind your back and slowly folding you up for him. he turns you so your back is to his chest but you can still hold the eye contact he’s kept this whole time.

the silence in the room is so fragile you’re afraid to breathe, not wanting to shatter the moment. his eyes flicker to your lips for a moment before coming back up with a pleasing look. his cheeks are still wet with tears, you can’t resist him. you lean in slowly and don’t close your eyes until your lips are locked with his. he moans and he reaches for your hand. he grabs your wrist and fidgets with buttons until your suit dissipates, one of his favorite things about having chosen to make you a digital suit.

he adjusts his watch to just dissipate the crotch, always needing that power imbalance between the two of you. his cock slaps against your pussy the moment it’s freed, eliciting a shocked, but desperate moan from the both of you.

miguel planned on taking his time with you but after his cock hit your plush, wet, lips— he can’t wait any longer. “putting it in, baby.” he grunts out into your ear as he lines himself up with your entrance. your hands reach back to caress his head, play with the curls at the base of his neck.

both your eyes roll back as he slides into you. it’s funny how in sync the two of you are, feeling the same things at the same time for the same reasons. the emotional exposure has left you both raw, sensitive for each other. you both are moaning louder and more frantically than you usually would, on edge already.

“m’not gonna last miguel. oh i love you so much, baby. you’re so good, keeping me safe at all times. my big protector.” your delirious, running your hand through his curls and grinding on his cock as you speak. your words affect him more than he ever could’ve expected. he’s cumming.

it’s worse than a punch to the gut. he lets out a yelp/moan of your name like a scolding and you can feel his warmth flooding your insides. his hands grip your thighs so hard you actually think they may pop, you have to dig your nails into his wrists for him to realize. his hands are shaking— his whole body is shaking so violently that you’re trembling along with him, causing an extra tightness over his cock as you start to cum.

he was on the tail end of his orgasm but now that you’re cumming around him… it’s been renewed. he lets out another shocked moan, closer to a whimper and a sob as he crosses the line into overstimulation. he’s still fucking into you though because you’re cumming. he wants you to cum so hard you’re nothing but jelly in his hands but it seems to be having the opposite affect.

your head is turned to his, you hand on the back of his head, in his curls to angle it towards you and you’re mumbling with a smirk against his lips. “oh- yeah. fill me up, miggy. you’re pumping me so full, baby. kee- keep going. miguel. keep filling me up, my love. m’all yours. make me yours- mark me. want everyone to know.” your words penetrate his brain like bullets. shooting through him and never leaving. mark you

he takes a bite before he can think. wanting to mark you in anyway he can and the sensitivity on his fangs as his eyes crossing as his cock shoves out another fat rope of cum into you. you’re squealing, trying to hold your sounds in as you flutter over his cock again, creating an obscene noise as his thrusts die into slow grinds. his teeth are still in your shoulder, feeling too good under the rush of your warm blood to pull out. his brows are furrowed as he tries to collect his thoughts again.

this never happens to him. you’re stroking the back of his head now and whispering loving words into the air, hoping he can hear them. you’re usually the one in this position, all fallen apart and gifting miguel the honor of putting you back together. but now he’s gifting the honor to you, giving himself you you completely, letting you clean him up and take the both of you to bed.

HOW THE FUCK DID THIS GET SO LONG OMFG 😭 THIS SHOULD COUNT AS TODAYS FIC

i literally burnt myself out from this and now today's fic is like 800 words

[lysenfeu]

Devil in the Details •Part 1•

Captain John Price is pushed to extreme lengths to make up for his massive failure in the field.

Rating: Mature

Eventual John Price x F!Reader

1.1k Words, Slow Burn, Drabble/Short Form Writing

CW: Angst, Grief, Dark themes, Mentions of death, Supernatural

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The mission was a catastrophic failure. Everything went wrong and John made it home by the skin of teeth, barely alive and the only one left. The boys, his boys, were gone. He knows it should have been him, not them. He should have been dead and buried in that desert and his boys gotten home safe. They didn't deserve this ending, they had so much more to live for. But not anymore, their promising careers and futures were cut short because of him.

The brass put him on leave, didn't even ask him about it. Just ordered him off base for a few weeks, doubled it when he wouldn't put the whiskey bottle down long enough to make it into his office. He fucked it up and now he's stuck here without them. Broken and alone, haunted by ghosts of the men he let down and lost.

He won't accept it.

Can't accept it. There needs to be a way he can fix this. To turn back time, bring them back, whatever it takes. His duty wasn't really to the military, it was to his team. And as long as he still lives, that duty will remain.

There must be a way.

So he spends his time reading and researching. Trying to find a way to solve this problem. That's what he does best, solve problems. And what's three bodies in the ground if not a fucking problem? He latches on to anything he can, no matter how farfetched, that promises him salvation. He chases thin threads of information, whispers of rituals and summonings, things that grant wishes at a cost.

Finally, he gets restless and goes out hunting. Trawling occult shops, new age bookstores, antique dealers, anywhere that might have more information or the tools he needs. He ends up in places he shouldn't, asking questions he really shouldn't. He's mostly met with concerned glances and cautious half-answers. But the shopkeepers politely dodging his requests for more and more obscure and dark texts doesn't deter him in the least. Eventually, some indulge him. Tell him fanciful tales of beings with immense power, ones that have control over life and death. Creatures that can grant him his deepest desires, for a price.

He knows what he needs to do.

One day, he gets lucky in a little pawn shop a town or two over, with a flair for the spooky and macabre. The owner found the book in a box of junk they sourced from an auctioned-off storage locker. It was stuffed between fake crystals and low-quality bone jewellery, the lot worth almost nothing. The owner thinks it's just a prop, a total fake like the rest, but they knew Price was willing to pay for this type of thing so they gave him a call. John's there in less than an hour. He opens it, thumbs through a few pages and cracks a smile for the first time in weeks. He thinks this might have the answers he needs.

With a plain, unassuming cover of simple brown leather and various stains (he's very much hoping are tea) on a number of the pages, the whole book is scrawled top to bottom and front to back with messy handwriting in a variety of inks. Drawings break up the text, sketches of different plants and flowers mixed with carefully labelled diagrams showing various shapes and runes in different configurations. There has to be something of value here.

The pawn shop owner is getting antsy about his purchase, so with a strong poker face and some pointed mentions of military discounts, he deftly haggles his way through the transaction and rushes home with his new acquisition.

He flies into his study the moment he arrives and dives into the book. It's well-preserved and filled with notes, John quickly learns the author has a fondness for herbs. After a hundred pages of interesting but not quite useful information, and about a dozen too many sketches of different stalks of mugwort, he's falling back into that despondent mood that seems to increase by the day, the smile long since dropped from his weary face. He's nearly done flipping through the entire thing when something catches his eye. Right at the end of the book, there's a nearly empty page. It contains only a single detailed sketch and a handful of words in blood-red ink.

His heart starts to race as he stares down at the images. A picture of a circle sits in the middle of the page, containing a twelve-pointed star with several tiny smaller symbols on each point. Some are easy to decipher, there's a sun, moon and skull drawn quite clearly. A dagger and a scroll, perhaps that one might be fire or a very odd-shaped leaf, sitting next to a set of horns. The rest are just scribbles to him and he frowns at the unfamiliar pictures.

There's one image larger than the others sitting in the dead centre of the star that he easily recognizes as a set of scales. There's something about them that makes him stay and linger, unable to pull his gaze away. He brushes a hand over the ink and a tingle runs down his spine. The scales glitter faintly under his touch, trying to draw him in, and he suddenly knows what he needs to do.

A small smile finally returns to his face.

This is it.

This is how he'll get them back.

Adrenaline is pumping through his veins as he pushes himself up from his chair and races to gather supplies. He pays no mind to the text at the very bottom of the page, too eager and overwhelmed by his discovery of the ritual circle to take heed of the single sentence in large block letters.

“DANGEROUS - DO NOT ATTEMPT TO SUMMON”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

(Part 2)

[thisisarcanereverie]

May i request a Yandere Moonknight System with a reader who’s like visiting London on work or something and they meet one of the boys. over their stay they get close as the boys show them around London and they sort of ignore the fact reader eventually has to leave untill they tell the boys they’re leaving the next day and they snap and take reader. Idk if that makes sense. 🤍

Cutting Ties (Dark! Moon Knight x Reader)

A/N: This is Part 1 of a 3 Part fic. This is also a dark fic so please DNI Minors and others. (I got a little carried away with this idea Anon so thank you for the suggestion)

Now if you can interact or want to, please do! Like, reblog, reply!

DISCLAIMERS/WARNINGS: kidnapping, angst (like a ridiculous amount of it), light cursing, I've never been to London or England in general so I'm going based off of what I've seen, English is my first language I just suck at it. I do not own the picture above but i DO own the header below, it's something that I made. I might make a few others idk. Enjoy!

Summary: You're a former Widow on the run, only in London for a year you meet Steven Grant, a goofy gift shoppist. But is there more that meets the eye?

You weren’t sure what it was about London, maybe it was the almost constant cloud looming over the city-or perhaps it was the way you barely understood what the people around you were saying- but you didn’t get what all the hype was about. Yes, it was beautiful if you put a filter over it looking at it through a tourist’s perspective. However, looking past all the buzz and touristy wonder, it was just like every other city- gray, busy, and foul smelling–filled to the brim with more people than it could possibly provide for. The only difference was the currency and the fact that everyone sounded like they came out of either Downtown Abbey or Derby Girls. 

You sighed as you reminded yourself that you were only going to be stuck here for another year, until this identity expired, then you got to go somewhere else, maybe somewhere warm and remote. Though you doubt it, that’s the thing about being on the run–you don’t get to choose where you go. You’ve been running close to 8 years now, almost a decade. Ever since Natasha Romanoff sent the Red Room hurdling from the sky and freed every Widow in the process, including you. How you got here exactly was a very long story, with parts you would rather not relive. 

You looked out the window of the bus, filled with thoughts of nothing but warm places with lots of sun and color with next to no people around. You could probably stay there longer than usual, hell maybe forever if you were careful. You could feel a small smile gracing your features as you thought of a nice, quaint home; decorated with plants, a nice kitchen to practice cooking in–oh and a sunroom that doubled as a greenhouse of sorts. You started making a list of flowers you would like to grow when you felt a sudden, foreign weight on your shoulder. You turned your head away from the silver light of the window towards the dark mess of curls next to you. You recognize him almost immediately, you don’t know his name but he always got off at that museum you’ve been meaning to visit, he always looked so tired with dark almost bruise like circles under his eyes; his dark hair almost in a permanent state of unkempt. You looked at his face a bit longer before your eyes trailed to his hands, his knuckles were white with how harshly he was gripping his bag and sweat was starting to form on his brow. A nightmare. You got those as well. 

As gently as you could you shook him, it didn’t take much until he bolted upright and took a few very sharp breaths. You could see his eyes dart erratically in fear before finally settling on you, you couldn’t help but remark on the lovely shade of brown his eyes were. A moment or two passed by before his eyes met the ground and his cheeks flushed. 

“I’m so sorry” he hurriedly apologized, eyes still trained on the ground, “didn’t realize I nodded off there.” 

“It’s quite alright,” you assured smiling gently at him, “if you don’t mind me asking but do you suffer from nightmares often?” his eyes went from the ground back at you, “I don’t mean to pry it’s just that I’ve seen you a few times on here and you always look exhausted.” 

“Yeah um,” he cleared his throat, “I, uh, I would guess so– not that I can’t tell the difference– it’s just complicated to explain–not that I wouldn’t tell you if I could, it’s just the best way I can explain it and I probably sound like such a knob.” You hold in a slight chuckle as his cheeks flush even more. 

“I don’t think so,” you say, “I get those kinds of dreams often as well. The ones you feel like they belong to someone else…but not at the same time, I guess it really is difficult to explain out loud.” you hold out your hand and introduce yourself as the man beside you hesitantly accepts it. 

“Steven Grant.” 

///////////////////////////////////////////////////

That was almost a year ago, after introducing yourselves you gave him your number (which he called not even an hour after he got off the bus). At first you would just meet up for tea but tea quickly became more intimate. You would call each other during the nights that were the hardest to sleep or to dream. You would tell him about your hope to live somewhere remote one day, in a place full of sunshine and color and he would be silent and listen. It wasn’t long until he confided in you about his condition, and you met Marc Spector and Jake Lockely respectively. 

You weren’t sure why but when Marc appeared he seemed familiar, for a moment you wondered if you had met him at some point but you were sure that you would’ve remembered. The Red Room forced you to have a good memory after all. 

Jake on the other hand was completely different from Steven and Marc, where Steven was shy and Marc stiff, Jake was suave. He had kissed your hand and said dirty things to you in spanish, to which you surprised him by replying fluently and dirtier. 

After some time you grew comfortable with Marc and Jake and went on dates with them as well. For a while you were happy, first time ever since coming to London. You were practically living in Steven’s small flat and you spent your days living as a normal person would. You pretended not to notice the weird things, like them leaving in the middle of the night or the strange looks they would sometimes get looking at absolutely nothing. You never pried or judged, it wasn’t like you aired out all the skeletons in your closet either. You never told them your real name (or at least the name the Red Room gave you) or where you came from or basically anything of substance at all about your past. You didn’t want to, it wasn’t like you didn’t trust them, but you feared what would happen if you did tell them. Tell them your real name, that you used to be a Black Widow and killed people. That the reason why you hated the color red was because it reminded you of the Red Room and the blood that stained your hands, how your nightmares were memories and that ghosts that haunted you refused to die. 

Somewhere along the way you started to forget that this life you were living with your job and your boys wouldn’t last forever. That sooner or later reality creeps in and brutally murders the fantasy you have created and as you hold the almost expired passport in your hand you remember the cold truth. That you never should’ve gotten involved, that you slipped and got attached and worst of all..you’d gotten someone else attached as well. Without you knowing the year you had left in London was almost up, in less than two months you will be off again to a new corner of the world with a new name and a new life. 

Deep down though you knew, knew that you couldn’t not go. Choosing to remain this person you’ve created with her perfectly normal job with her perfectly normal life with her not so normal–but still perfect–boyfriend was never an option. Too many people want you, for various reasons from recruitment to revenge for what you did as a Widow; and those people would stop at nothing to get to you, even if that meant hurting someone you’ve loved. 

You’re doing this, for them, you had to leave. There was no other option, and it was better to break it off now rather than leaving in the middle of the night. You fought the urge to be selfish, to keep living this life with them until you board your one way flight. So with a deep breath you stuffed your passport back into its folder in the drawer you owned and grabbed your trench coat and umbrella. You did not let a single tear fall as you hauled a cab to take you to the familiar route to their flat. You tried not to think at all, you knew if thought for a little too long you would talk yourself out of this. You knew this would probably be easier over text, you wouldn’t need to tell those big brown eyes goodbye and see them fill with tears or hate. It would be so easy…but you couldn’t. You knew that if you didn’t end it in person Steven, Marc, or Jake would show up at your door and wouldn’t leave until you did what you were doing right now. Telling them in person that it was over. 

You didn’t waste time when the cab stopped in front of his building, you told the driver to wait and that you would be back down in just a few moments. Your heels clacked against the wet pavement towards the door which a kind, elderly neighbor of Steven’s you’ve gotten to know opened the door for you to which you smiled and thanked him. Every move you made was robotic, you weren’t even thinking you were just on auto pilot. Hoping that they wouldn’t be able to tell the slight shake in your hand or how stiff you were. You reminded yourself that you were doing this for them, and for you as well. 

You entered the lift and pressed the button for their floor, the fluorescent light flickers a few times and the hum and rattle of the wires lifting the metal box do nothing to quiet the thrumming of your heart. Seconds pass by like hours before finally the sliding doors reveal the dimly lit hallway. One you’ve walked through dozens of times by now looks more like death row. You let not one tear drop as you walked, you couldn’t–you couldn’t let those doubting thoughts and happy memories pass through your head as you knocked on his door. Hearing a shuffling and the clattering of dishes before you hear them walk to the door. You could tell by the slight difference in gait that Steven was fronting and it hurt. You had hoped silently that it wouldn’t be him, your sweet Steven, with his unkempt curls and goofy grin. One who read you facts about Egyptian mythology and ancient history during stormy nights, who woke you from nightmares and held you gently like you were the most precious thing to ever exist. The sleepy man on the bus who laid his head on your shoulder and slept, who called you not even an hour after giving him your number. Please not him. 

He opened the door and sure enough it was Steven. 

“There you are love,” He said, a wide smile adorning his face as he ushered you in, “Me and the boys were wondering where you were,” he kissed your cheek and took your coat, “dinners almost ready if you need to wash up.” You stood there motionless, unsure of what to do. This wasn’t the first time you’ve cut ties with someone that you’ve cared for. However this was different, he was different. Steven, Marc, and Jake were probably the first people you’ve ever loved. You would do anything for them, anything, as long as they lived and were content and happy. 

Even if it meant hurting them. 

Even if it meant you could only watch from afar. 

You took in a deep breath, willed your heart to stop beating before speaking. 

“Steven.” He stopped immediately, you never called him by his name, only ever called him your sweetheart, or baby, or whatever other nickname came into mind but never his name. He turned away from the little stovetop and looked at you. You willed your voice to not falter as you continued, “we all need to talk.” 

“Oh god,” Steven whispered, “how bad?” 

“We need to talk,” You said not answering, “please.” 

Wordlessly Steven turned the stove off as he made his way to you, you held up your hand when he was only a few steps away. 

“Are they present?” You asked. 

“They weren’t before but now they are,” He said, eyes furrowing in worry, “we’re starting to get a little worried love what’s going on?”  

“I,” you start before swallowing the lump that has suddenly formed in your throat, “I’ve gotten a call from the main office, they’re relocating me in a few months to help on a different classified project.” 

“Oh,” Steven said with confusion written all over his face, “where?” 

“That’s classified.” You said, nails biting into your palm to stop yourself from getting emotional. 

“When will you be back?” 

Silence fills the room, you bite back the urge to say anything that would give him hope. After a few seconds you see his eyes widen as he looks at the mirror beside you. 

“No,” he said to the mirror, “no, no she’s not,” he turns to you with tears pricking his dark eyes making them shine, “love, tell them that you’re not-” 

“I am,” you say, careful to keep a cold tone despite the urge to cry, “I’m not coming back. It’s a permanent relocation.” 

“But you can still come to visit,” he says hurriedly, tears still pricking his eyes as he runs a hand through his hair, “we-we, we can um, we can face-call or um, or we can text and call and we can make this work, I know we can make this work love.” you opened your mouth to say something when he cut you off, a few tears leaking through and leaving wet streaks down his cheek, “or you could tell them no, tell them that you refuse the offer!” 

“I can’t say no,” you said gently. 

“Yes you can,” Steven said, his large hands gripping your shoulders, “you can tell them no.” 

“I can’t Steven,” you tell him, “I’ll lose my job if I do and I can’t.” 

“Then we can face call,” he says, his hands now cradling your face, leaving small kisses on your face that feel like knives in your heart, “we can make this work.” 

“We can’t,” you said as you gently pry his hands from your face, you reach into your pocket and grab the spare key he gave you after a month into your relationship and put it in his hand. “I’m sorry.” 

“Wait,” Steven says silently, his head hung, his crying seemingly subsided “can you please stay, stay with me, be with me until you go.” 

A moment of silence happens, for a moment you reconsider, but then you kiss his lips. Salt and vegan chocolate stain your tongue until you pull back, resting your forehead against his momentarily. You imagine what life you could’ve had with them, one full of good days and bad days. You’d adopt a cat with him, you would laugh as he declared the cat his mortal enemy for looking at Gus for a moment too long. You’d save up together and buy a nice cottage in the countryside, maybe you’d get married, maybe you wouldn’t. But you could imagine what it would be like to grow old with him, when your hair would turn white and gray, when your skin would start to sag and he would still be there to tell you you’re as beautiful as the day he met you on that small bus all those years ago. It’s a nice life, one you know you would be more than content with. 

But you know it’s not a life you can have. 

“Goodbye.” 

With that you left, closing the door behind you and walking to the lift. Walking away from the life you knew you could never live, not without constantly looking over your shoulders. You knew secrets always have ways of coming to the light, so even if you did stay how long would it be until he discovered yours. How long until he has a gun to his head and a target on his back? No, this was the choice, this was the only option. You made the right call, while you may not get to live that life; he still could. He’ll find someone else, someone to love and who will hopefully love him as much. 

The doors slid closed and the wires hummed and groaned as they lifted you back down where the cab was waiting. You decided to walk and paid the cab for their time. You knew with the heels you were wearing you would regret it later but you didn’t care, you needed some time to think. You walked through the lit streets, you watched as people laughed and a few occasionally public criers. You stopped and waved at the living statue man that Steven introduced to you before walking on. This was a path that you and the boys would walk sometimes, they didn’t like going out much and neither did you, but the exercise did you good. You checked your phone to see how much time you had left before you had to board your flight. It seemed like you had enough time to go home, grab your duffle and carry on before the cab you called before you left arrived. 

“Excuse me miss,” You turned to see a little girl no older than ten addressing you. She was a small thing, with dark curls and even darker eyes, she dressed as a white gown with a flower crown. “Do you care for some flowers?” You remember briefly seeing similarly dressed kids in the plaza not too far away, you gathered that maybe she had wandered away from the group unnoticed. 

“You know what,” You kneeled down to her height, “I would love some flowers, but first let’s get you back to your group alright?” the girl looked around as if she’s realizing she’s not where she’s supposed to be, for a moment you’re worried about her crying as you see tears start forming in her eyes. You take the hand not holding onto the small basket of flower seeds gently, “don’t cry little one, we’ll get you back to your group all safe and sound.” You see her nod as she holds your hand in her tiny one as you lead her back to the brightly lit plaza just a few buildings away. She points to two women frantically looking and calling out a name. You let her hand go and watch as she runs towards who you assume are her mothers. 

“Oh my stars,” you hear the taller woman breathe out in relief, “where did you run off too?” 

“I-I went to go give flowers.” You heard the little girl sniffle before she pointed at you, “she helped me.” You gave a small awkward smile and wave before the smaller woman gave you a hug. 

“Thank you so much,” She said before letting you go. “We were talking with the play director for one mo and the next-”

“No need,” you said, “she’s a sweet kid, adventurous too apparently.”

“You have no idea.” the mother sighed as she looked at the now giggling child in her wife's arms, “Angie loves to get into trouble.” you see her smile before returning her gaze back to you, “anyways thank you again.” 

“No problem,” you say before turning your eyes towards Angie and her taller mother, “it was nice to meet you, and you too Angie–listen to your mum’s.” you went to walk away before you felt a soft tug on your sleeve. You looked down to see Angie holding up a packet of flower seeds to you. 

“Here’s your flower miss,” Angie said sweetly, tears long gone, “thank you for helping me find my mum’s.” you gently take the packet of seeds from her and smile,

 “you’re welcome, good luck with your play.” You said as you waved her goodbye as she went to take her place next to the various other children in similar attire. You stood there a moment longer, watching this small family you’ve encountered. All you’ve ever known of family was what the Red Room told you of. Your birth certificate was destroyed along with every other Widow’s, even then you doubt that your parents still walked the earth. Dreykov wasn’t one to leave loose ends. 

You walked away from the plaza then, away from the brightly lit place and back onto dimly lit streets making your way past the few passersby and back to your building where a single duffle bag and carry on waited for you. 

You had been brave the entire day, you had not let a single tear drop but once the door to your flat closed behind you all the resolve you had crumbled. You slid down the door as tears profusely fell down your cheeks leaving hot traces behind. You couldn’t hold back the sobs that had threatened to come out earlier. Your fingers shakily trace your lips as you hold onto the last kiss you shared with him. Your hand then went to your chest and clutched the material of your shirt as a sharp, throbbing pain in your chest grew. Every part of you was screaming, all for different things. There was physical pain like the ache in your feet and the pain in your chest, but the emotional pain–that was the worst of it. This was the kind of pain that teetered between hell and heaven.

So this was it. 

This was heartbreak. 

You don’t know how long you stayed there–teetering–but you knew you couldn’t be long. Soon you would have to pick yourself up, bite through every step as though it didn’t feel like you were walking on glass, grab that duffle and carry on, and leave. You let out a bitter smile as you remember that fateful day you met your boys, how you were planning on what flowers to plant in that dream home of yours. You reached into your pocket and grabbed that small bag of flower seeds. 

Purple Hyacinth. 

Sorrow

You laughed at the irony. 

How fitting. 

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

“What do you mean my flight is canceled?” 

“Just what I mean ma’am, the weather report-” 

“It’s bloody London, has there ever been a clear sunny sky in London?” 

“No..bu-” 

“Alright,” you sigh, pinching the bridge between your brows, “I’m not trying to be difficult, I know you’re just doing your job, are there any flights cleared to take off?” You see the person type a few buttons on their keyboard and a few clicks of the mouse before looking back at you with false sympathy. 

“I’m sorry ma’am all the ones cleared already took off.” 

Shit, that leaves you with two options: going back to the flat or staying at the airport until morning…with a sigh you grab your bags and get ready to grab a late taxi back to your place. At least there you could shower and cry in private. First thing tomorrow morning you’ll get on the next plane to, you look at your ticket again Cincinnati, Ohio. At least you won’t stay there, your inside guy did you a solid and got you away from people. You’ll be in a small property big enough for one in a small town. It wasn’t ideal but at least you were away from the city stench. You’ll have to drive to places this time instead of hailing a cab, but you didn’t mind. All in all, it was an ok set up, much more preferable than your previous arrangement. 

You tried to hail a cab for ten minutes, everyone that passed was either already paid or just didn’t see you. Eventually you thought you were going to have to bite the bullet and sleep on the uncomfortable airport lounges when a cab finally pulled up. You thanked god as you put your luggage in the trunk and got into the backseat. 

“Where to miss?” the man asked, you didn’t even look at him as you replied. Instead watching the water drip steadily down the window pane. 

“Too bad for the weather eh?” This driver asked in a thick cockney accent. 

“Yeah I guess,” you replied, “though I guess it fits.” silence passes before he replies. 

“Tough day issit?” 

“Like you wouldn’t believe.” you said, closing your eyes, “it just doesn’t end.” 

“Know what that’s like,” he replies, “I had a share of bad days myself.” 

“Oh yeah?” You responded. 

“Like today,” You hear him respond, “I burned my hand while making dinner for me and my girlfriend, we’ve been going on for a year or so by now. She is the most beautiful creature you’ve ever seen, inside and out. Anyways the day only gets worse from there, she comes about half an hour early to dinner without warning. I knock my poor toe on the way to the door to let her in; hurt like anything. So I open the door, she’s as  radiant as ever, only she’s got this sad look in her eyes, something I’ve never seen before. Turns out, she’s been lying to me… she said her job was taking her away and that she wouldn’t be able to be with us anymore.” a sinking feeling settled into your stomach, “we begged, we pleaded but no. She was adamant, and then she left, without another word. Isn’t that cruel?” You open your eyes to look into the rearview mirror, a chill went through your body as your eyes met a familiar dark pair. “Isn’t it mi carissima?” the accent drops into the deep spanish accent. You’re about to open the door when you feel a pinch on the side of your neck, and slowly the world blurred and then faded into nothing.

(Here's Part 2)

[void-of-existence]

this isn’t specifically based off of the prompt, but I felt it fit good enough, and wanted to have an excuse to post this on tumblr too

___

Day six: Apology

Today marked seven years since Aziraphale and Crowley parted ways. It was funny, really, because that day would also be the day they see each other once again. God seemed to like her sevens that way.

~

"We're closed!" Crowley called across the old bookshop at the knock on the door, pulling his reddish-black curls into a messy bun. He threw himself down onto his cushiony black leather recliner with a sigh, and picked up the book he was currently reading off of the the side table. Just as he opened the book, though, another three knocks sounded from the front of the shop. Crowley groaned loudly as he pushed himself up and stormed to the front of the shop, not bothering to put his sunglasses on. Before he even thought to check who was there, he flung open the door, only to be met with a very familiar face.

"...Ang- 'Ziraphale?" The demon forced down his old habit.

"Hello, Crowley." The way the angel said his name stung, like being gently spritzed with holy water. Crowley looked him up and down, noticing he was now dressed in all white, and possessed purple eyes. "Why are 𝘺𝘰𝘶 here, 𝘚𝘶𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘦 𝘈𝘳𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘭 𝘈𝘻𝘪𝘳𝘢𝘱𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘦?" Aziraphale cringed, quietly hoping he wouldn't do that. "Crowley look, I'm sorry I made you think I chose Heaven over you. But I-"

"Stop. Don't want to hear it." He cut him off, clearly mad that it took him this long to apologize for something Crowley thought he himself would have gotten over by now.

Aziraphale flinched at the harshness on his tongue, but tried again nonetheless. "Crowley," He stepped forward, "I am truly 𝘴𝘰 very sorry." Crowley, who had put on his glasses to hide his own over-expressive eyes, raised a brow. The angel sighed hopefully at the first sign that he might not just be talking to a brick wall. "In Heaven, time doesn't really pass, so I only realized how long it had been when I came down to visit you. Really, it hasn't been that long, I mean-" He laughed awkwardly, "There have been times when we'd go 𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 without seeing or talking to each other. But, this time... It's just- We had never been that 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦 before. You spent so much time in the bookshop that you practically lived there, and you even moved some of your plants in." An angelic smile spread across Aziraphale's face, which would usually make Crowley blush, but today was different. He didn't even let his blank unemotional stare falter in the slightest.

The angel's smile fell. "Crowley?"

The demon never broke eye contact from underneath his glasses, even though he knew Aziraphale couldn't see his eyes. "What? 'Ya want a kiss on the cheek?" He leaned against the doorframe, one eyebrow raised in annoyance.

The blonde's pale face grew pink. "I- Well not- ..I wouldn't mind." The last bit of his stuttering mess of a sentence was spoken quieter, but still caught the attention of the demon. Crowley's face and ears became redder than his own dark hair, before he remembered he was supposed to be mad at the angel. He pinched the bridge of his nose.

"The point is" He began, sighing angrily, "Good for you. You said sorry. Now what? You 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘢𝘷𝘦 me after I had- had kissed you, and you LEFT." Just then, Crowley was glad he had put on his sunglasses earlier, because in that moment, tears pooled in his eyes and threatened to fall. "Then, 𝘚𝘌𝘝𝘌𝘕 𝘠𝘌𝘈𝘙𝘚 𝘓𝘈𝘛𝘌𝘙, all of a sudden you're comin' back to Earth to try 'n apologize? For both of our 𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘳𝘦 existences, ever since I fell, you've been tryin' to convince me that I'm 'good'." He hissed, now looking down at the ground. "But you called me the bay guy. You grouped me with all the rest of those fuckers in hell." The demon's voice cracked, a detail that didn't go unnoticed by his angel.

"Oh, Crowley dear," The angel cooed, taking another step closer. "I thought I could fix them, stop the second coming, but they-" Crowley's pupils shrunk into thin slits, he lifted his head to make eye contact with Aziraphale. "The 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵?" They both went silent.

"I thought you-" He was cut off by a loud groan, followed by the slam of the bookshop door. He pushed it back open and shut it gently behind him, speed-walking to catch up with his fast pace.

"I'm not with them anymore, I'm on my own side- You know that! You've known that for several 𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘢, Aziraphale!" He miracled the door shut behind the angel as he walked in, "They don't inform me on this shit! Not since Shax became 𝘎𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘋𝘶𝘬𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘏𝘦𝘭𝘭, she couldn't give less of a shit about 𝘮𝘦 anymore." Crowley plopped down onto the recliner he had been sitting in earlier, which is when Aziraphale noticed the book sitting on the side table.

"You read the book I suggested you!" He beamed, picking up the book with the navy blue cover.

"Huh?" Crowley looked up at the angel from his spot on the chair. He turned the book to face him, smiling enthusiastically.

"You've recommended about half the shop to me at this point, it's hard to read something you 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘯'𝘵 suggested to me."

The angel still smiled sweetly, despite the harsh tone the demon continued to carry. He blushed slightly, knowing Crowley had always been a liar when it came to feelings.

Aziraphale knew he was reading the book because it reminded him of the blonde, and couldn't help but compliment him. "You really are quite sweet, Dear." He cooed, earning a quiet serpentine hiss from Crowley, who seemed deep in thought.

"Crowley?" Yellow eyes turned to make eye contact from under dark glasses.

"I love you."

And even though no one saw it, the demon's expressive eyes blinked a few times in shock, pupils shrinking once again to thin slivers.

"I tried to tell you that seven years ago. That would have been a great time to reciprocate." He looked down at his lap and fidgeted with his chipped black nail polish.

Aziraphale sighed loudly. "Please, don't be dramatic Crowley."

"Me? 𝘋𝘳𝘢𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘤?" The demon scoffed, "M'kay, I forgive you."

[eekshade]

Death II

Bucky Barnes x m!reader / Steve Rogers and m!reader (platonic)

Word Count: 3419

Warnings/Info: bucky briefly mentioned but isn’t in this, Steve and y/n best buds, not proof read, kind of boring because it's just a play by play of the end of the first avenger, y/n is content with his own death, guns/shooting, Peggy <3, discontinued

Part One

Y/n’s transfer was approved merely a day after he sent it in, just one of the perks of being friends with Captain America. When y/n and Steve saw each other for the first time there was an unnamed tension between the two, they of course both loved the other but never really hung out without Bucky. Steve introduced y/n the rest of the team, he truly didn’t want to deal with pleasantries at the moment and they seemed to get the hint. The team briefly knew y/n and Bucky’s relationship, (leaving a few key details out) so they chalked his standoffish behavior as grief, which it was for the most part.

The final Hydra base came quickly, the plan was making y/n nervous as he and the Howling Commandos, excluding Steve, sat on top of a ledge looking down into the Hydra Headquarters’ main window. He anxiously chewed his lip and he awaited his cue, Dugan looked at y/n and put a warm hand on his shoulder, “He’ll be fine, he knows what he’s doing.” He attempted to reassure. “I know he does.” Y/n bites back, Dugan’s eyes go wide with a shocked smile, “Sorry, I’m just - I’ll be better on the ground.” Dugan’s smile warms and he laughs, letting go of his shoulder, walking closer to the edge.

“Ready boys?” Dugan calls out.

In unison they all get up and get into stance to shoot out the zip line hooks. “On three! One, two, three!” The hooks all fire out, with a metallic zing. They all quickly tie off their lines to the poles dug deeply into the ground, despite seeing them go into mountain y/n can’t help but feel nervous as he puts his handle across the line, taking a deep breath and running off the edge, the friction producing a sound that reminded y/n of watching Bucky work on the docks - pulling ropes off the side of the small ships.

“Fucking Christ!” Y/n hears someone yelp out.

He looks to the side, trying his best to hide his face into the crook of his own neck. The glass shatters against his body; small shards sticking into his soft flesh, his hands letting go of the zip line on impact, his body rolls across the cold, hard floor. The sound of gunshots rattle his body before his eyes can process the area around him, he looks up and slides his body to a near crate on the floor, he pulls his gun close to his chest and looks around the corner - firing at a Hydra soldier. Y/n stays crouched as he runs to a pillar, he makes eye contact with Steve from across the room, Steve nods his head toward the hallway before running into it, y/n following close behind.

“You okay?” Y/n questions the second he gets close to Steve.

“Yeah, hit me a few times but you’ve probably hit me harder.” Steve smiles at him.

Y/n laughs at Steve as they continue to run after Schmidt.

Schmidt was shooting behind him as he ran, Steve pulling up his shield to cover his face, y/n moved his stride to hide behind Steve. Schmidt smashes a button as he runs by, the door mechanism blinks to life as two metal walls move together from both sides at a steady pace, Steve quickly throws the shield between them, metallic creaking filling the hallway as the door continues to try and close. The two men attempt to run to the door but are cut off by a man with a double barrel flamethrower, they frantically step back hiding in another doorway at the other end of the hall. Fear washes over y/n as he tries to shoot the soldier - the flames disrupting his view.

Gunshots ring out, the echoes making hard to know where they came from, until the Hydra soldier drops. Steve and y/n move forward to the body planted in front of a crossroads in the hall, as they reach it Peggy and Colonel Phillips almost run into them.

“You’re late.” Steve says looking like a lovesick puppy, you wave softly at her.

Y/n was about to tell Steve to keep it moving but Peggy beat him to it, “Weren’t you about to-?”

“Right.” Steve turns and keeps running, y/n quickly following suit.

Y/n ducks under the shield first before Steve pulls it out of the door, causing it to snap shut. Y/n glances around, taking in the large room, the shooting and screams has now become as normal as the sound of his own breathing. Both men look for Schmidt’s running form, while neither find him; they both see the only moving aircraft slowly starting to descend farther down the runway.

The men both wordlessly take off running in the direction of the aircraft, shooting and shoving through the people in your way, at some point Steve grabbed y/n’s arm pulling him along. The two keep running, adrenaline pumping through y/n’s veins, the only thing he can hear is his own heartbeat pounding in his ears rhythmically. In the distance Steve sees a chain dangling from the ceiling a few feet from a crate, he slows a bit pulling y/n in front of him as softly as possible, picking him up and placing him on his side like a young child. He runs at his full speed at the crate using it to propel himself (and y/n) toward the chain, y/n leaps out of his arms - landing on the chain just above Steve. It aggressively swings back and forth, y/n jumps first, landing a few dozen feet ahead, Steve following behind.

The aircraft is so close but accelerating far too quickly for y/n, and too quickly for Steve. They slow to a stop as it speeds away, before all hope can be lost a car halts next to them, “Get in!” The Colonel yells over all the noise, neither of you need to be told twice as you hop in. Colonel Phillips floors it; once you start to get close to the aircraft the propellers hit the back of the car, the screeching of metal sounds imitates a monster lurking in the shadows of cold caverns in the deep ocean. You shakily climb onto the hood of the car, Steve doing the same much more confidently.

“Keep it steady!” Steve calls out.

“Yeah, that, please.” Y/n nervously laughs.

“Wait.” Peggy firmly states, Steve turns around to look at her, concern apparent in his eyes which quickly melts away when she kisses him.

“Hey…I don’t mean to rush this but-“ Y/n interjects.

“Yeah, right. Go get him.” She smiles at Steve, then at y/n (which shocks him slightly).

Steve looks at the Colonel in one final glance, “I’m not kissin ya.”

Y/n and Steve line themselves up on the end of the hood, knees bent tightly, the car now as close as it can get to the wheels, swerving harshly to throw the men forward. Y/n’s knuckles turn white as the wheel starts to move up into the ship. Steve watches y/n closely, fear racking him slightly as the height increases.

The wheels lock in place with a final clicking noise, the men climb off of them and through the bars onto the catwalk. Their eyes are met with bombs lined up on exit hatches, as well as a few small one man planes, they walk up to one of the bombs with neat painted letters in print, New York. “Well it's awfully nice of them to let us know the plan.” Y/n jokes to try and lighten the mood but it falls on deaf ears.

Steve is only pulled out of his trance when a fair sized group of Hydra soldiers stormed through the doors onto the catwalk. Y/n and Steve both immediately jump into action, both noticing that they’re trying to get into the planes. Y/n pulls a soldier out of the pilot seat harshly, throwing him onto the floor and shooting him in one fluid motion. Y/n finishes off the few Hydra soldiers on his side, he turns around and sees Steve no longer there, fear courses through his veins as he runs to an open exit hatch. Looking down he sees Steve standing on top of the small plane pulling open the door and dragging the pilot out into the open air. He gets in and starts to fly around the ship; y/n losing sight of Steve.

Seeing as Steve’s shield is on the ground, y/n assumed he should wait for Steve to return. While waiting y/n takes a dead Hydra soldier’s gun and shoots the wall seeing the blue light explode onto it. He hears a crash behind him and Steve climbs in from the plane and aggressively grabs the shield off the floor, “Getting trigger happy?” He laughs, “Fuck Hydra in all, but they got sick guns.” Y/n says waving it around, “Alright calm down, and don’t shoot me.”

Y/n leans around Steve to look at his parking job, “Jesus man - you ever fly before?”

“As the pilot? God no.” Steve laughs moving to quickly walk further into the aircraft.

The two eventually find the control center, Schmidt nowhere to be seen. Y/n glances around before feeling a hard grip on his bicep yanking him behind Steve, the shield blocking the familiar blue gunshots.

“You don’t give up do you?” Schmidt yells out at Steve, his accent getting heavier throughout the sentence.

“Nope.” Steve states matter of factly, before throwing his shield at the red man, Steve aggressively rushes him.

Seeing as Steve has Schmidt under control y/n goes to the controls, frantically looking for a way to turn the ship around. He quickly finds a, what he thinks was a button, broken off labeled autopilot. The familiar hopeless feeling drapes itself over y/n, clouding all of his senses like a heavy wool blanket. Y/n gets knocked out of his thoughts when Schmidt smashes into the controls, forcing the steering controls down, throwing the three of you up into the ceiling.

“You could have the power of the gods! Yet you wear a flag on your chest and think you fight a battle of nations!” Schmidt yells out at Steve, “I have seen the future, Captain! There are no flags!” His voice gets louder and more intense the more he yells.

“Not my future.” Steve throws the shield at the mysterious machine in the middle of the room.

It sparked and the blue light aggressively flickered, making a whirring sound. A bright blue cube fell out of its container, it burned so bright it felt as though it could burn one's eye, it felt like it could blind the vision of the eye in just one glance. Despite this y/n couldn’t look away.

“What have you done?” Schmidt exclaims, venom dripping from his voice.

Schmidt picks up the cube off the floor with haste, the sky starts to open up, all three men look up at it, a bright, star filled, galaxy looks back at them - it seemed to wink back at them as it started to rapidly consume Schmidt. His screams filled the air, y/n wanted so bad to look away but he just couldn’t.

The second Schmidt was fully gone the sky closed back up, it all happened so fast if it weren’t for Steve’s shocked expression y/n would’ve thought he imagined it. The cube falls back onto the floor with a hard thud, it sits for a second before melting through the metal and falling into the open air. Steve shutters slightly, and walks up to y/n, who is still standing by the control panel, eyeing it with concern and confusion.

“I can’t- I don’t-“ Y/n stutters,”It won’t stop, it's stuck on auto pilot.”

Wordlessly he gently pushes by y/n to get a closer look, he sees the same thing y/n did, Steve looks strange as he sits down and picks up the radio.

“This is Captain Rodgers, do you read me?”

A man starts to say something on the other side but is cut off by Peggy, “Steve is that you? Are you two alright?”

“Peggy, Schmidt’s dead!” Steve calls out.

“What about the plane?”

“That’s a little tougher to explain.” As Steve says that, he has a certain look in his eye, y/n now starting to understand the new plan, sinks down to the floor next to the chair - back against the side of the chair.

“Give me your coordinates and I’ll find you a safe landing site.” She pleads.

“There’s not gonna be a safe landing.” He says solemnly.

Their conversation starts to blur together as y/n gets lost in his own thoughts, a sense of calm replacing his fear, there is nothing y/n can do. He knows this, he’s okay with this. He can’t help but get that guilty feeling again, he’s ready for death, he come to terms with that a long time ago, while he didn’t think it was going to be today, it's fine that it is. He can’t help it, how could he be sad when he knows he’ll see his boy again? The guilt pinches at him again when he remembers who he’s sitting next to, how can he be happy to see his lover again when Steve is being ripped away from his own? He hears his name, successfully gaining his attention.

“Y/n?” Peggy asks.

“I’m sorry what?” He smiles at the radio, he knows she can’t see him but it felt right.

“Are you okay with this? It’s not just Steve’s life.” She states firmly, it's sort of comforting.

Steve looks at y/n, fear in his eyes, it hits y/n that he’s never seen Steve scared before. He’s seen Steve depressed, angry, concerned, hopeless, but never scared. Without thinking y/n grabbed one of Steve’s hands, off the controls, into his own.

“…Well I mean you know the saying, the few for the many, or whatever.” He attempted to joke, hoping to lighten the mood.

Steve uses his free hand to put his locket of Peggy on the small ledge on one of the controls. Y/n temporarily lets go of Steve’s hand in order to stand up, Steve puts his hands on the console before looking up into y/n’s eyes, y/n smiles sadly and puts his hands on top of Steve’s, pushing down together. The aircraft took an immediate dive.

“Peggy.” He pauses, “I’m gonna need a rain check on the dance.”

“All right,” her voice quivers, “A week, next Saturday at the Stork Club.”

“You got it.” A tear falls out of his eye.

“Eight O'clock on the dot, don’t you dare be late. Understood?”

“You know I still don’t know how to dance.” He laughs, y/n smiles at him.

“I’ll show you how, just be there.”

“We’ll have the band play something slow,” Steve started, y/n felt like he shouldn’t be listening to this.

“I’d hate to step on your feet.”

“…” Something barely comes through but it’s intelligible, static taking over the whole system.

“Peg?” Steve sniffles, before looking at y/n for what he thinks is the last time.

…

Y/n’s eyes slowly blink open, squinting to adjust to the bright fluorescent lights, his nose filled with the strong smells of disinfectant and a cheap lavender candle. He groans pushing himself up to rest on his elbows, digging into the stiff bed, further taking in his surroundings, he sees Steve laying on another bed across the room - eyes also opening. He yawns, a soft pop in his ear, now hearing more clearly he notices a radio on Steve’s side of the room, it was some sort of sport (baseball most likely, based on his tone) announcer excitedly describing the game.

“You alright?” Steve asks, voice raspy.

“Yeah, I think so?” Y/n sounds unsure, throwing his legs over the side of the bed., “You?”

“I’m fine.” Steve replies half heartedly, staring down the radio.

A few beats of silence pass before y/n starts to talk again, “How-?”

He stops talking when a short pale woman opens the door and slowly makes her way in, she looks…off slightly. “Good morning,” she checks her watch, “or should I say afternoon.” She laughs softly at her own words.

“Where are we?” Steve asks with an accusatory tone.

“You’re in a recovery room in New York City.” Her eyes darted between the two men.

Steve looks at the radio once more, “Where are we really?” He says more harshly this time, almost threatening.

“I’m afraid I don’t understand the question.” She smiles nervously, eyes now trained on Steve. Y/n looks over the room again, something is wrong about it but he just can’t put his finger on it.

“The game,” he gestures to the radio, “It’s from May 1941. I know because I was there.”

“Now I’m going to ask again, where are we?” He steps closer to her, y/n takes notice of a small orange light in her closed fist.

“Captain Rogers…” She steps back, looking at y/n almost as if she wanted him to help her.

“Who are you?” He states firmly, his captain tone coming out.

“Steve - her hand!” Y/n yelps once he gains an idea of its possible function, Steve looks at it, but before he can take it a few men dressed up in military gear storm the room.

Y/n quickly stands up, watching Steve take care of the men like it was his day job (which it kind of was). Steve throws one of them through the wall on the left side of the door, creating a void for them to move through. Y/n and Steve move in the direction of their exit with no hesitation, they enter a barren looking warehouse, only the fake recovery room in the middle of it. Steve grabs y/n’s hand to pull him faster, a sensation y/n has gotten so very used to.

“Captain Rogers! Y/t y/l! Wait!”

They exit the warehouse and enter a lobby of what feels like a dystopian sci-fi book, they slow down for a split second to look around at this new strange environment. A loud announcement echoes throughout the building, “All agents! Code thirteen!” Dozens of men turn to them, almost robotically, start running at them. They take off in a full fledged sprint (at least y/n does, Steve slows a bit so as to not rip y/n’s arm off) , out of the building.

The road they end up on is scarier than the building, bright billboards line the streets, except they move around, lights flashing. Cars honked at them paired with swearing and screaming, the cars themselves in all kinds of different shapes and sizes, one specific car swerving in front of them, effectively blocking them from moving farther down the street. A rather bald, dark man steps out of the vehicle, a black eye patch wrapped around his head, he slowly steps toward the two men - hands out like you would a dog who one isn’t sure is safe.

“At ease soldiers!” He calls out, y/n and Steve looking at each other to silently communicate what they were going to do; they decide to hear him out. “Look I’m sorry about that little show back there, but we thought it best to break it to you slowly.”

“Break what?” The men say in unison.

“You’ve both been asleep,” he pauses to look them both up and down, “ for almost seventy years.”

Both y/n’s and Steve’s minds stop working. Y/n feels his heart race out of his chest, he looks at Steve whose eyes are jumping from place to place around the street, “You two gonna be okay?” The mysterious man asks softly, real concern present.

“Yeah.” “No.” Steve and y/n say at the same time, they all look to y/n who sighs loudly, “I will be though…I guess.” He mumbles the last part but Steve still hears him and he laughs quietly at his friend.

The man smiles, “How about we take a ride?” He offers, y/n and Steve accept cautiously.

| MARVEL MASTERLIST |

[unova22]

Weird headcanon idea. Negaduck has a peat bog in a bucket with the most gorgeous Venus flytraps, pitcher plants and Drosera rotundifolia in it and they only grow so well because they're scared, like that screen from Good Omens where Crowley has beautiful plants and blends one/puts it in the garbage disposal because of a spot. Negaduck uproots any that are dying and shoots them with the biggest caliber gun he has on hand in clear view of the others. His sundews are in their own bog bucket because they stay outside over winter. He also has a collection of the most gorgeous venomous spiders that he handles regularly with anti-cut gloves on in case they get spooked just for his own safety. Bushroot is absolutely not happy when Negaduck shows up holding the bog buckets because they exude plant screams. He carries around his bog buckets to deal with mosquitoes because they swarm him so badly that he went through a period of time where he smelled like a boys locker room, stale urine and deet. He uses a broken couch in his main hideout as a urinal.

Quackerjack has a set of good chisels, Negaduck once used one and was forced to sharpen it at ukulele point. Quackerjack has unmedicated ADHD, explaining his wackiness, his ADHD and autism with a special interest in toys and how to make them into weapons is his superpower. (That means that Negaduck technically stole Quackerjack's mental illnesses.)

Megavolt has anxiety that's treated with meds that also deal with ADHD. He has autism with a special interest in electricity. When he got his superpower (well superpowers if you consider electrical immunity and electromanipulation two separate powers) he also got ADHD from it, but since his anxiety meds dealt with the hyperactivity part he only gets the forgetfulness.

Bushroot has insomnia and low key is a carnivorous plant in that he will grab bugs out of the air or off of other plants and eat said bugs. He gets supplemental nutrition from it, meaning he can have tap water as he can draw only the good nutrients from it. Since his roots are above ground his bug eating helps when he can't make time to sit and draw nutrients from the soil and it's too soon for more fertilizer without burning his roots. He sleeps standing up with his petals curled over his stamen to protect them at night. His stamen are sensitive (they are a plant's male reproductive organ after all) and he only allows a select few to touch them. In the winter his stamen are shorter and his petals are not fully uncurled to provide warmth to them. His roots have no pain receptors and so he can stand directly on snow with no issues. He repels mosquitoes.

Liquidator often is seen near Bushroot. Liquidator is one of the select few who can touch Bushroot's stamen. (It's not gay if it's a water dog and plant duck right?) Liquidator and Bushroot have a relationship that developed into what's practically a gay relationship based mostly on the fact that Liquidator is pretty convenient for a plant during a drought. He will melt into a puddle to avoid responsibilities. He sometimes decides that giving himself an arm on his crotch would be more useful to pick something up off the ground. He doesn't need sleep but will curl up in a bucket near Bushroot at night.

[pocket-sized-nightmare]

here's my entry for day 3 of @mcyt-yuri-week! today's prompt is "qpr/aromance"

Pearl loves so many things about her alien base, but if she had to pick a favorite, it would be the plants.

She’s spent hours tending to them, figuring out how to keep them alive, and discovering what makes them unique. Some fill the air with glitter, some respond to her touch, and some even glow in the dark. There’s something beautiful about every plant in her biome, and that’s even before she collects the best part: the fruits. There are nearly a dozen edible plants that grow wild around her base. She’s learned what they taste like and what her favorites are, and now, she’s learning how to use them in recipes.

After all, a midnight picnic with her partner deserves something special.

As the sun goes down, Pearl returns to her house with a basket of alien fruits. Gem said she’d make sandwiches and cake for the picnic, which leaves Pearl to make drinks. Luckily, she’s spent the last few months perfecting her boba tea recipe.

It starts with tea, of course. Pearl puts a pot of water over the fire to boil, then adds the holographic blue flowers and heart-shaped leaves she dried herself. Next up is the boba: juice-filled orange orbs from the center of flowers and sweet, squishy white seeds from inside the sparkle pods.

Mailbox wanders into the kitchen and nuzzles against Pearl as she cuts the first pod open, sending a burst of sparkles into the air. “Well, hello there, Mailbox! A little curious, are we?”

Mailbox barks. Pearl chuckles as she scoops the seeds out of the pod and drops them into a bowl. As she cuts another pod open, Matchbox races in and curiously tries to jump up to the counter. Pearl laughs out loud. “No, you goofy pup, you cannot have my fruit.” She gently pushes Mailbox back down to the floor.

Pearl mixes the seeds and orbs together in the bowl, then divides the mixture between two bottles. The tea is finally ready, so she takes it off the fire, sweetens it, and leaves it to cool. It shimmers in the light of Pearl’s kitchen, shifting from blue to orange to pearlescent white. It’s perfect. All she has to do is add the fruit flavoring, and it’ll be ready to surprise Gem—

Matchbox, Mailbox, and Tilly all leap up and run to the door, barking excitedly all the way. Pearl puts her cooking tools down and follows them. “Do I have a visitor?”

She opens the door to find GeminiTay standing in front of her.

Gem looks perfect. There are sunflowers in her braid and vines woven around her antlers. She’s wearing her favorite dress, the one that makes her look like a woodland elf. Pearl is suddenly self-conscious of her own fruit-stained overalls. “Oh, gosh, you’re early! I’m sorry, I didn’t realize. I’m not quite ready yet…”

“That’s alright! I actually…” Gem smiles sheepishly. “I knew you’d be cooking for the picnic, and I kinda just wanted to hang out with you.”

Pearl’s heart melts. “Of course! I was trying to surprise you with boba, but now we can make it together.”

As Gem steps into Pearl’s base, all three of Pearl’s dogs leap around her. Mailbox leaps up and puts his paws on Gem’s chest, accidentally knocking her to the ground, and Matchbox curls up on Gem’s stomach. Tilly trots over and licks Gem’s face, then looks up at Pearl with an expression of aren’t I a good dog for not knocking her over? From the ground, Gem laughs so hard she cries.

Pearl laughs too, then tries to catch her breath. “No! Bad dogs, all of you. Get off of her.”

“Aw, don’t worry, I know they’re sweet.” Gem sits up and pets Matchbox’s head. “So what were you saying about boba?”

“I was just making some!” Pearl grabs Gem’s hand and leads her into the kitchen. “Although I should warn you, it isn’t exactly a normal flavor.”

“What is it, then?”

Pearl winks. “You’ll see.”

When Gem sees Pearl’s collection of ingredients, she stares. It’s like nothing she’s ever seen before. “Pearl, this is amazing! What are all these?”

“100% genuine alien flora, straight from my personal garden,” Pearl says with a flourish. “That’s a lie. They grow wild all over my biome. But they are alien plants.”

Gem laughs. “Only you, Pearl.”

“Aw, you love me.” Pearl elbows her.

Gem leans her head on Pearl’s shoulder. “Of course I do.”

They smile at each other. Pearl can’t help but gaze at her partner for what has to be the ten-thousandth time, studying every detail she’s come to love. Gem’s emerald green eyes shine in the light and reflect the stars from the windows, and the white freckles on her face highlight the blush on her cheeks like constellations. She’s brilliant and beautiful, and Pearl can’t help but stare at her – not quite the way she’s heard others describe romance, but like looking at a beautiful meteor shower or an artfully arranged bookshelf. Gem isn’t “just a friend,” but she isn’t exactly a girlfriend, either. She’s just Gem, and Pearl is just Pearl, and they wouldn’t have it any other way.

“So,” Gem says, bringing Pearl out of her thoughts. “What’s the next step with this stuff?”

“Funny you should ask!” Pearl reaches into her basket and pulls out a remarkably spiky fruit. Its shape has too many sharp points and wild edges to be natural, but it somehow exists anyway. “All we need is to cut this thing open and mash it up.”

“Are you sure it won’t attack us?” Gem teases.

“Nah, they’re only called firework fruits because of the shape. They don’t actually explode. Unlike the sparkle pods.”

“Unlike the what?” Gem shakes her head in amazement. “Pearl, your base this season is something else.”

“Why, thank you very much,” Pearl says with a joking bow. “Anyway, it’s easier than it looks. Want to do the honors?”

“Gladly.” Gem picks up a knife from the counter and weaves it between the fruit’s spikes, then presses down. It breaks into two neat halves, revealing orange flesh swirled with streaks of white. “That looks… weirdly delicious.”

In response, Pearl picks up a spoon, scoops up a bit of fruit from the inside, and pops it into her mouth.

“Hey, save some for the tea!” Gem laughs. 

Pearl takes out another spoon and hands it to Gem. “Okay, fine,” Gem says. “I’ll have some too. Just to make sure it’s good.”

Gem takes a bite of the firework fruit. It tastes strange, but good – a bit like saltwater taffy. “That is delicious, actually,” she mumbles through her mouthful of food.

“Help me mash this stuff up?” Pearl asks, taking half of the fruit and scooping its insides into a bowl.

“You got it.” Gem does the same. “You could totally use this as a weapon.”

“Or for a really dangerous game of volleyball.”

“What?”

Both of them dissolve into laughter. Pearl takes the bowls of fruit and mixes them with the holographic tea, then pours the mixture into the two bottles.

Gem looks over at the drinks. The tea shifts from blue to orange every time she looks at it, and the swirls of color light up the parts of her mind she’s trained to focus on perfect color palettes. The drink is nearly as pretty as Pearl is, and that’s saying something. “Did you mean to make the colors like that?” she realizes.

Pearl’s eyes widen. “Like what? Is that bad?”

“No, it’s…” Gem takes out her communicator and shows Pearl a sticker she’s recently added to her collection on its case. It’s a heart with stripes of orange and blue connected by white in the middle, the same set of colors Pearl’s decorated a thousand things with – the aroace flag. “It’s perfect.”

“It is perfect!” Pearl beams. “I didn’t even do that on purpose. That’s amazing, though, now that you say it.”

Pearl hands Gem a bottle of tea with one hand, then takes Gem’s other hand in hers. “So, then. About that picnic?”

“Sounds perfect to me,” Gem says. She leads Pearl out to the perfect spot at the top of the hill, with Matchbox, Mailbox, and Tilly trotting behind them. They set up their picnic, illuminated by lanterns and moonlight. For anyone who doesn’t know, it looks like a perfect date, or something straight out of a painting.

For them, though, it’s just Pearl and Gem, partners and partners-in-crime, having a midnight picnic together.

What could be better than that?

[thewalkingwillowtree]

His Fierce Flower

Series Part Listing Found Here

BF2L, Slow Burn - Neteyam x Original Na'vi Female Character

Summery: Neteyam and Enyu, childhood best friends are both obliviously in love with each other. This is their story.

Important to note before reading:

Some characters have been aged up. Neteyam is 23.

En'yuna or Enyu for short (pronounced as N Yunna or N U), is my own creation.

Full recognition, rights and credit is given to the owners of Avatar.

~

PART 7 - The Fool

“-and then you drop in the pods, cover them up like so, aaand done. See? Easy, and Eywa does the rest of the work for us.” Enyu looked expectantly at her student. “Do you remember now?” 

“Hm? Oh yeah, I remember now. What about the plants that don’t have pods? How do you do that again?” Yaćksön asked, crouching closer to her. 

Enyu stared at him a bit befuddled. “I’ve shown you three times before, silly!” But patient as ever, she pulled out a root vegetable from her satchel and broke off the top. “Here, see these little sprouts?” Yaćksön leaned in way too close for comfort, so she shuffled back further. “That’s where the roots grow from. We usually leave them out for a couple days on a drying bar to sprout a bit longer before we replant them. See how red the veins are? When they turn white, that’s when we know they’re ready. And with every new harvest, we make sure these replace whatever we’ve taken.” 

“Amazing,” he murmured, still staring at her. 

“It is, isn't it?” she agreed, smiling at the plant in her hand. “These little things can grow to be such magnificent-”

“You’re honestly incredible. How do you remember all of this? Swear, I’d be so lost without you,” he complimented, effectively cutting off her sentence. 

She couldn’t help but frown a little but still gave him a brief nod in thanks anyway, hoping her smile didn’t come off as a grimace. He was packing on the compliments lately and Enyu wasn’t quite sure how to feel about it. 

“Aha… well it comes with experience I guess. I’m sure you’d be the same way if I asked you about patrols.” 

Taking the root from her, he purposefully brushed his fingers against hers. At the awkward contact she stood up quickly and shouldered her harvest satchel. “Well I think we’re done here. We should really move on. Come on then,” she called, striding off without him. 

As they made the trek back towards the forest's edge, near the base of the Hallelujah Mountains, Enyu asked, “So, do you think you’re ready to be on your own yet? We’ve pretty much covered everything now. More than three times actually. I'm a little worried that my teaching isn't sticking.”

“Tired of me already?” he teased, knocking his elbow against hers. 

She was a bit, honestly. 

She huffed. “Ah- I’m just wondering. I know this must all be hard on you, having to start all over again... Speaking of, how’ve you been feeling lately?” she inquired, nodding towards his bandaged shoulder. 

“Not bad, I guess? Tsahìk said that I’m healing better than expected, but I’ll still be limited in what I can do for the rest of my life,” he answered, frowning deeply as he rubbed the spot.

~

Some time later, while they walked in silence, they suddenly heard a rustle, then hurried footsteps, followed by a yelp. Just as Enyu turned to see what was happening, a hard body collided with hers, knocking the wind out of her.

“Oh thank goodness! Enyu! Enyu, Enyu save me, please!” A muscled arm wrapped around her waist and then she was being lifted off the ground, her back colliding with a solid chest.

“Wha- Lo’ak? Put me down!” she shrieked, flailing and kicking her legs. 

A few seconds later, a furious looking Neteyam appeared before them. “Lo’ak!” he shouted.

“Stay back, bro! I’ve got your precious Flower. You can’t hurt me now,” the younger brother taunted with a laugh, shuffling backwards with Enyu in his arms acting like his shield.  

“Uhh... Do you need me to help, Enyu?” Yaćksön offered, looking awfully concerned. But he was ignored by all parties.

“What is it with you Sully brothers and manhandling me? Put. Me. Down, you skxawng!” 

“No way, he’ll kill me. You’re my only hope here. Come on, Tiny, don’t you love me? Don’t you want me to live?” 

She gave up trying to escape and properly assessed her best friend who came nearer, stopping directly before them. “Wait, are those bruises? I swear to Eywa if it was you I’ll skin you myself,” she threatened, trying to throw a glare at Lo’ak. 

“Aww, little sis, you say the sweetest things to me,” Lo’ak cooed sarcastically in her ear. “But no it wasn’t me. That was his own fault really. Honest.”

“My fault? You think this is my fault?" Neteyam roared, gesturing to his face. “Flower, my idiot brother here picked a fight with three other skxawngs, and guess who had to jump in and bail him out?” he snarked, fuming with his hands on his hips.

“You did what?” she cried indignantly.

Lo’ak grimaced. “I never asked you too! That was your own choice and you fucking know it!” 

A horn suddenly sounded three times, interrupting whatever comeback Neteyam was about to say. The sequence of the alarm ment the changing of the guards would be done soon. 

“Dammit. That’s the time already? I’ve got training with mom and dad soon. They're going to be expecting me.” Neteyam eyed his brother over the top of Enyu’s head then sighed in defeat. “Truce? For now?”

Lo’ak hesitated. “Yeah alright, truce.” He shifted his Na’vi shield onto one arm, holding her as if she were nothing but a sack of Yovo fruit and stepped forward to clasp arms with his brother. 

Still dangling, Enyu scowled and couldn’t help but reach forward, brushing her fingertips over an ugly looking bruise forming on Neteyam’s jaw. 

“Enyu?” Yaćksön called again. 

As if just realizing the ex-warrior was there for the first time, the Sully brothers simultaneously turned to stare at him. Lo’ak raised a brow and smirked unkindly while Neteyam gave him one of his famous, deadly side-eyed stares. 

Yaćksön shifted uncomfortably under their gaze. 

“Yaćksön. I see you still need tutoring? What’s keeping you?” Neteyam asked testily. 

The man shrugged his good shoulder lazily and said, “It’s a lot to remember. I’m enjoying taking my time with it. Nothing wrong with that, right? And Enyu’s been an incredible tutor.” He flashed all of his teeth, knowing well what he was doing with his choice of words. 

“I’ll bet,” Neteyam spat bitterly, stepping forward, fists clenched tightly. 

“Shit,” Lo’ak muttered, low enough that only Enyu heard. He was about to intervene but she beat him to it. 

“Okay! That's enough!” Enyu interrupted, trying to break the sudden tension whilst failing to free herself from Lo’ak who seemed to have forgotten she was still in his arms. “Hell-ooo? Boys!” she snapped. “Can I get down now?”

“Shit. Sorry, Flower,” Neteyam apologized with a soft sigh. Palms under her arms, he easily scooped her out of his brother’s hold and into his own. Then with a quiet insult, he gave Lo'ak a one handed shove for using his best friend as a shield, cursing him under his breath. 

“This is not what I meant,” Enyu grumbled sullenly when Neteyam turned his back on the other two Na’vi to walk them further away. 

Neteyam could feel Yaćksön’s eyes following them. He was itching to serve a punch to the cocky asshole’s face but he didn’t think the woman in his arms would appreciate the action.  

Finally setting her down, but keeping her locked with a hand on her hip, he leaned dangerously close into her personal space. “This is getting ridiculous, Enyu. You know the fool is deliberately delaying now, right?” he seethed. 

“You don’t know that. It really is a lot to learn…” she whispered. “These things take time and he’s just- just unfortunately a slow learner, is all.” She nibbled her lip worriedly when he scoffed angrily at her answer- not at her, but at the situation. 

“It’s been almost three months, Enyu! How the fuck-” He stopped and stared at her mouth distractedly for a moment, blinked, then shook his head and aked, “How long did it take you to complete your training? Hm? Two weeks. It took you two weeks to learn the ropes! He’s just doing this shit on purpose now!” 

She frowned up at his exasperated face, teeth still gnawing at her bottom lip. They’d had this same conversation far too many times now and she was growing tired of it. She didn’t feel like fighting over this again, so she kept her mouth shut. 

Neteyam’s jaw clenched. He licked his lips unconsciously at the sight of her teeth embedded in the plump flesh of her bottom lip. Groaning internally, he pulled her lip down and out from between her teeth. 

“Stop that,” he demanded gently, gazing intently at her lips as he soothed the pad of his thumb over the indents her teeth left. His eyes met hers when she inhaled deeply, voice hitched, pupils blown wide.

Fuck.

It was happening again… This was starting to be a problem he realized. 

Neteyam could pinpoint exactly when it began- him noticing all these things about his best friend. Things he had no right to be thinking about. 

Like the sway of her hips when she walked or the feel of her hands when she touched him; the arch of her neck when she tossed her head back to laugh. He thought about her eyes, her smile, her lips, her voice, her kiss- on his cheek when she wished him happy birthday. 

Eywa. 

It was as if he was drowning in his observations. He felt consumed by her everything. Suffice to say, the past two months had been antagonizing for him. He was getting attached, clingy, addicted and… fuck, what the hell was wrong with him?!

He shook his head to clear away those insane, dangerous thoughts. 

Enyu was still staring at him, waiting, wondering what his next move would be. His erratic behavior lately had been concerning for her. 

Cupping the back of her neck, his thumb rested on her pulse point as his forehead met hers. “I’m sorry for yelling. I just really don’t like him.”

“Tey, he used to be a member of your patrol team for months. You’ve never had a problem with him before.” 

“What I meant was, I don’t like him around you,” he emphasized with a glare.

She tried to nudge him backwards but he didn’t budge an inch. “Why? I’ve told you so many times already, he’s been nothing but nice to me.” 

Admittedly, the man had been a little too friendly with her lately, but she’d dare not tell Neteyam- she wasn’t stupid, she knew what he was capable of. Neteyam had always been a part of her life and she had never known him to dislike someone “just because.” This was all new territory for her.

“I don’t need a reason why,” he hissed. 

“Fine, okay! You don’t like him… But he is still my student and I can’t just stop tutoring him just because you don’t like him!” she snapped. “Can we drop this already! How many times will we have this same fight?” 

Enyu had been training Yaćksön for almost three months now and she and Neteyam had agreed not to talk about said topic because it seemed to always irritate her best friend. He also wasn’t allowed to stick around for their tutoring sessions either, since after the first and last time he did, he literally sat through the entire lesson glaring murderously at Yaćksön. 

“Shoot.” She looked down and saw her beaded anklet had come loose. 

Neteyam kneeled before she could. Going down on one leg, he propped her foot on his thigh to fasten the undone string. 

“Alright we’ll drop it… But tell me again why you have to be the one to train him?” 

Having been asked that question more times than she could remember, she flicked his forehead in annoyance. “One, he asked me to. Two, I finally have my first student! And lastly, I promised your grandmother I’d help him, 'Tey… and that’s what I’m going to do. I really need you to respect that.” 

“You’re right, I’m sorry.” Fingers clasped around her ankle, he soothed his palm up her calf in apology. He squeezed her lightly and teased, “Hey, can’t you at least have another member tag along as well? You know, speed up the training for your slow learner?” 

With a cackle, he ducked when she jokingly swung at him.

~

Lo’ak leaned against a tree with his arms folded, observing the male Na’vi who was intensely watching his brother and friend talk. Yaćksön looked absolutely feral at the sight of Neteyam kneeling before Enyu, his lips curling in fury when Neteyam began to rub her calf.

“It’s never gonna happen, man,” Lo’ak sang.

Yaćksön turned to look at him in mock confusion. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The Sully boy raised an eyebrow and smirked. “Oh really.”

“Alright… I’ll bite,” Yaćksön snarked, relenting far too quickly. “You don’t know that for sure. The way I see it, she’s fair game. He had his chance- more than enough, I’ll say. They’re not mates, never even courted.”

“Yet, they aren’t mates yet,” Lo’ak countered, which only seemed to further piss off Yaćksön. ‘Oh look at him showing his true colours.’ 

“I don’t get it. Everyone acts as if they’re a sure thing but all they do is bicker,” he spat, observing the pair again. 

Neteyam was now towering over Enyu with an amused smile on his face. She was frowning however, speaking quickly and gesturing wildly to the bruise on his face. 

Lo'ak chuckled at the sight, his brother was right- she did look like a little angry nantang when she was mad, and it was quite cute. In truth, all Lo’ak saw when he looked at the two of them were two fools hopelessly in love with each other. 

“See what I mean?” 

“Pfft…” Lo’ak snorted. “I know you’re injured and all man and you have my sympathies, really you do. Thing is though, I didn’t realize you were blind too.” 

Yaćksön frowned at his insult. 

“Doesn’t matter though because like I said, it’s never- Going. To. Happen. The sooner you realize, the better. Enyu is taken. So whatever game it is you think you’re playing, you better stop now or else you’re going to have a lot of angry people to answer too. And that’s not even counting my brother.” 

“Are you threatening me, you demon blooded skxawng?” Yaćksön seethed menacingly. Furious, he stormed towards Lo’ak who was chuckling sarcastically at his pathetic insult. 

Stepping forward himself, voice dangerous in a low hiss- “No, that was just a warning. So consider yourself warned. You see her right there?” Lo’ak pointed to Enyu then patted his chest saying, “She is my family. You know who my father is right? I'm sure you do. He gave you your punishment after all. My mother? My grandmother- the Tsahìk who’s taking care of your pathetic ass? They’re her family too. And I bet you know what they're capable of… So if I were you, I’d be very, very careful.” 

He removed the distance between them quickly when he noticed the other two coming over to join them again. A fat grin grew across his face as Enyu marched straight up to him. 

“Stupid!” she hissed, reaching up to thumb at the cut on his cheek in worry, tilting his chin down for a better look. 

“Aww, I love you too, Tiny,” he laughed, making her roll her eyes fondly as she stepped back.

Yaćksön cleared his throat. “Hey, we better get going Enyu, you still have to show me the Hyacnas.” 

Neteyam’s jaw ticked at this. He really hated leaving them alone. Eyes locked with his brother, they communicated in silent conversation through a series of nods and raised brows only they could interpret. 

Decision made, Lo’ak broke the silence. “You know, I’d love to learn all about those Hyacnas myself. They’ve always… fascinated me.” He shot an antagonizing smile at Yaćksön over the top of Enyu���s head. “What do you say, Tiny?” He draped an arm across her shoulder. “Up for teaching one more student today?” 

“You’re interested in Hyacnas? Since when?” she asked, peering up at him in suspicion. 

“Since always,” he lied, shrugging easily. “I’ve always wondered why they’re so spiky and weird looking.”

“Oh there’s actually a really good reason for that!” she gasped excitedly. Giving him one last dubious side, she gave in. “Alright, you can come along. I’ll tell you all abou- Oh wait, is this okay with you, Yaćksön?”

With all eyes on him he had no choice but to respond. “Perfectly fine,” he lied through clenched teeth. 

Neteyam grinned and clapped his hands together once. “Well, this has been great and all but I do have to run. You shitheads behave for Enyu, yeah?” His insult was clearly directed at Yaćksön who scowled at being called a “shit head.” 

Lo’ak shoved his brother away from coming any nearer to the woman still under his arm. They could finish their lovey dovey shit later. “I’m always good for Enyu. Right sis?” He grinned down at her, already turning to lead her away despite his brother’s put out expression.

“Hey, shithead! Are you coming or what? Grab Enyu’s bag will you?” Lo’ak called over his shoulder to Yaćksön.  

~

Finally finished for the day, they headed back to camp. With a muttered lame excuse, Yaćksön went off on his own, leaving the other two to stroll behind, and all too eager to be rid of Lo’ak’s presence. 

For over an hour Lo’ak and the fool listened to a rather enthusiastic Enyu go on and on about the amazingness of the Hyacna plant. From its healing properties, to the meaning of the word, to even the benefits of using its sap in your hair. 

Throughout the entire thing, Lo’ak kept thinking that his brother for sure owed him big time. But he would admit that it was quite fun to see the skxawng so irritated by him being there.

“Don’t tell me you don’t like him either,” Enyu mumbled as they neared the forest’s edge. Her student was long gone and out of earshot. 

“I won’t… but we both know that would be a lie,” Lo’ak replied with a mischievous grin. Turning serious, he prodded, “He’s- he’s not bothering you is he? I know you won’t say anything to my brother because he already hates the ass, but you’d tell me, right?” 

“He’s not bothering me no but- I think 'Tey’s right. I think Yaćksön is stalling with the training. Maybe he’s afraid of being on his own?”

Lo’ak snorted. “Don’t be stupid, Enyu. He likes you. I’m not blind. Just by his behaviour alone he looks like he’d ask you to court any day now…” Lo’ak kicked a pebble away frustratedly. “It sucks that you don’t have your parents or grandmother around to act as your buffer for these things. They would’ve been able to safeguard you from assholes like him.” 

He glanced at her when she didn’t respond and running over his words, he felt like the biggest idiot on the planet for what he’d just said. 

“Shit. I’m sorry, Tiny.” 

“It’s fine,” she said, waving him off, though he saw right through her hurt. “Let’s just not talk about them.”

Her family had always been a sensitive topic for her, and in truth Enyu didn’t want to think about them right now. But Lo’ak had a point… she had no one to advocate or protect her through mating traditions- something she hadn't ever thought about before. It was a reminder once again that she was truly on her own. 

“Tell me.” 

“He's been weird lately… He stands too close sometimes or compliments me on the weirdest, most random things- really terrible compliments actually," she huffed. "Lo', I- I’ve never had this happen to me before. I’m not really familiar with the whole courtship-mate thing. What do I do?”  

She was surprised at how comfortable she was opening up about these things with Lo’ak. It probably would’ve been Kiri she went to first if given the option. But Lo'ak was great though, he never judged her. 

He blew out a puff of air. “Well we gotta address the elephant in the room first. Do you like him?”

Enyu blinked at him, mouth ajar. “What is an elevant?” 

“Earth animal. It’s a dad saying. I don’t know what the thing looks like either, so don’t ask.”

“Oh,” she snickered. “But ah, no. I don’t like him. Like that anyway.”

“Good. So then all you need to know is that if he tries anything, you kick him right in the ba-”

“Lo’ak!”

“Kidding. Kidding. Not really. Look, just set him straight, okay? Otherwise he’s going to keep wasting your time and make you feel uncomfortable. We’d have a lot more peace too. My brother would be much less irritable without him always hanging around. So set him straight. Tell him you just don't feel the same way and if you want back up, I'm your guy.”

“Set him straight. I could do that… Thanks Lo',” she smiled.

“Anything for you, Tiny. And hey, make sure to come get me if he bothers you. Neteyam would kill him. Literally.”

“Yeah okay,” she agreed shakily.

“Hey, do you want to come exploring with Kiri, Spider and me this afternoon?”

“No thank you,” she refused in mock horror. “The last time I went exploring with you, I fell in a pit and your father had to come rescue me.” 

“Awww, but that was so much fun though.” 

“You and I are remembering that time very differently. The lecture we got from your mother was not “fun” by any means,” she disagreed with a humourless laugh. “Thanks for the offer but you guys have fun.”

~

When Neteyam didn’t seek her out later that night, she decided to hunt him down herself. 

Trying the Sully tent first, an unsettling feeling washed over her when she noticed that none of the family members were home yet- which was very odd because usually they’d all be in by now. 

Enyu walked the camp three times before finally finding him at the ikran enclosures. 

She leaned against the sturdy fence, quietly watching him as he unharnessed his mountain beast first, then turned to do the same for his mother and father’s own too. Even from this far, his movements told her that he was tense. 

“Hey! How’d it go?” she called out. “You’re back later than usual.” 

Neteyam ignored her as he walked towards the enclosure’s exit. Only when he came closer did she notice the dirt and scrapes and cuts littering his skin.

A gasp escaped her lips, palm meeting his chest and fingers feathering across his cheek in worry. “Neteyam! What happened?”  Those were not there when she saw him earlier that day. 

He immediately tensed up at her touch. “Can you not?” 

Enyu blanched at his curt rejection. Hands drawn down, she wrung them together instead. “Do you want to talk about it?”

He shook his head, looking completely out of it. “Nope. Look, I have to go. My family needs me right now,” he said, still not meeting her eyes. And, without a glance he turned and walked away.

What in Eywa's name happened during his training?

Feeling confused and hurt, Enyu stared at his retreating back. She itched to run after him and demand that he talk to her but it may have made things worse. If he needed space, she’d give it to him. 

Tail limp between her legs, she sighed and for the first time in a long while, loneliness plagued her.

~

Status: Currently Hiding.

We're in rough waters here folks. Bare with me here. But hey! We met the fool.

I'll try my best to have the next part up ASAP so you're not waiting too long.

As always:

I'm sorry if there were any errors.

Please reblog, like and let me know if you enjoyed it in the comments :)

Take care for now.

@love13tter @behindthearcane @gyuventure

[writing-whump]

Hello Sol, I really enjoy your work and adore the characters! Just read your idea about what's coming and got excited, can't wait for more🤩

But there's one thing I want to say if you'd like to consider, please don't strict yourself with time lines and orders, you don't even need to. As they are your characters and outcomes of your inspiration, plans and orders can change on the road because there no boundaries in fictional universes (yay!)

Writing process based is on inspiration and writer's own willings, I think. So anything can happen whenever you want lol. The best and the most scary part of writing, isn't it?😄 As a person who interests in writing fictions (just for myself for now) I came up with so many ideas and literally want to write all of them and if I limit myself with a specific order, well, I generally ending messed up things and miss the inspiration sometimes. Characters are able to make you write them when it's time, I really believe that💫 So please write whatever you want without limiting yourself with an order list, it's good to be flexible when it comes to writing. Some fictions wait for their times in writer's mind and when it comes you know it's the time without hesitation anyways. Your universe your decides&instincts🤞🏻🤭

Hi, nonny!

That's a beautiful extensive message you left here for me, thank you! And a fellow writer too, hehe, I love hearing your experiences. ✨️

"Characters are able to make you write them when it's time" - that's very interesting, I have never heard of this one. Especially when you have a cast of characters, it's bit of a decision when is a new character "ready" to join them. Is it developed enough? Can it stand it's ground around the others? Is the inspiration strong enough to develop them further and use them or will is it a momentary enchantment that will fizzle out with a bit of time? Some OCs I have tried out for the Werewolf wip ended up like this - and maybe it's not bad in itself, maybe trying them out is the best way to tell (lol).

It's just so funny, cause I used to study writing theory for years. All these outlining techniques and character questions, all the meta and abstract stuff, I enjoued it very much - you got a bunch of that here on tumblr as well after all too - but it never helped me write as much as to simply sit down and try to put the daydreams into words? Because the writing itself sort of informs what it will turn out to be like and if it's enough.

I used to think the writing level determined if I destroyed the story or not, cause it always looked better in my head (ofc) but now I feel like there is a lot of worth and flavour in archiving the thoughts and daydreams in whatever way I can manage. Because the story itself develops in the process (I have had scenes that had no context and only grew as I wrote), because the ideas fizzle out, but if they are written, you can return to them and get invested all over.

As with outlines, I am currently just a sceptical about them as about all the writing advice and development and knowing your themes and ending (doesn't work for me for actual writing at all). But having a flexible list of what comes next, storing the many many ideas that come to me does help. But you are likely right that limiting the order and the amount and number simply doesn't work. It's sniffling and cuts off all the potential little sprouts from actual chapters.

I was worried the chapters wouldn't be connected enough without some amount of planning (planting hints and foreshadowing and connections), but I'm also kind of getting the feedback from you guys that the hints are indeed there?

But totally true what you say - the absolute freedom is the best and the scariest part. 😂

Thank you for the encouragement and your thoughts.✨️ I'm very honoured you enjoy the story and the characters!🥰💙✨️

[hiraeth-witch-11]

Magnolia Jasmine

Part 1: Pilot

Warnings: canon typical violence, explosions, some fear, mommy issues, wasps

Word Count: 2400

You are a disappointment to your mother, this you know. Your mother is fierce, beautiful, and brilliant. She is also controlling, particular, and unpleasable. You share the same fiery red hair, but that’s where the similarities end. You take after your dad and his family. Even your hazel eyes are from him. You think your mother secretly resents you for being so little like her. She had never confirmed it, and your dad wouldn’t really talk about it, but you think she had gotten pregnant with the sole purpose of having someone with her abilities to follow in her footsteps. Why else would she have approached your dad, someone who came from a family with plant based abilities, seduced him and gotten pregnant all within the span of 2 months? And as soon as she was pregnant, she broke off their relationship and had a shared custody agreement ready to go. With how you were raised, that’s the only explanation that makes sense.

“Again, Magnolia. You are supposed to be growing a tree, not a rose bush.”

“It’s not working, Mom.”

“If you actually tried, it might.”

“Or maybe, I just can’t grow trees. Maybe I can only do flowers like Aunt Nicki.” You love Aunt Nicki, always look forward to visiting her. She can’t grow without plant material, and she can only work with flowers, generally pink for whatever reason, but she’s kind and she teaches you the different meanings of different flowers.

“You are my daughter, you should be able to do much more than your father’s side of the family can. You just need to apply yourself.”

Your mother had been telling you this for years. Ever since you first started walking, dandelions popping up wherever your bare feet touched the dirt, she had been laser focused on growing your power. You are 12 now, and you can bloom all kinds of flowers, many weeds, and several vining and tropical plants. Your father is always impressed when he visits, but it’s not enough for your mother. She expects you to be able to grow anything she can, or could when she was younger. But in the 11 years you have been using your power, you have never grown any trees, edible food, or even grass. It was difficult for you to grow anything that did not blossom at some point, unless you already had a sample of the plant next to you while you tried.

“I am trying, Mom. I promise!”

“At your age I could grow and manage an entire greenhouse full of exotic plants with ease. You can barely keep some of your sunflowers alive without touching them day and night. You need to try harder.”

You dig your fingers back into the dirt and put all your energy and focus towards growing a tree. So much so, that you don’t notice the blood starting to run from your nose until your mother grasps your wrists and wrenches you away from the ground.

She wipes below your nose with her thumb and shakes her head. “Disappointing. Go inside and clean yourself up. We’ll try again tomorrow.”

You go inside and wash your hands and face. It’s barely 6 and you are exhausted. You sleep through dinner and until your mother wakes you up at sunrise the next morning. You hate summer break. It just gives her more time to ‘teach’ you.

It continued this way for years and you made very little improvement in the diversity of species you could grow. You did, however, begin to excel in maintaining your plants from a distance. Much to your mother’s horror, you could even keep cut flowers preserved at a distance for days longer than was natural.

“I don’t understand why you insist on killing your plants for your own amusement, Magnolia. Cut flowers are just awful.”

You turn your back to her and roll your eyes. “The flowers will die eventually, Mom. This way they can share their beauty with others before they do.”

“I thought I raised you better than this.”

“Aunt Nicki cuts flowers all the time. The plant doesn’t feel pain like we do, sometimes cutting the flowers even helps with growth. You have to prune some things for them to thrive.”

“If you had better control of your power, you wouldn’t need to.”

You sigh, it was never enough for her. Even when you were 16 and began to communicate with bees and hummingbirds and butterflies, she was still disappointed.

“Dad said his great grandma could do it too! Isn’t it cool? They follow me around sometimes, which can get annoying, but they love when I bloom flowers for them!”

“You take after your father’s side of the family too much.”

  Looking back, you think that is the exact moment you decided you were going to move far away from her one day. You won’t be a tool to further her sometimes extreme planet first agenda, even if you were powerful enough, you decide that you want your own life. 

It had always been a given that you would go to college. Both your parents had their doctorates, though your father often told you his had been more trouble than it was worth. Instead of staying in state for school, you applied to places across the country. You may not have been as powerful as your mother, or a genius like either of your parents, but you are smart. Smart enough to graduate highschool near the top of your class. Smart enough to get into NYU and be granted a large scholarship.

“How do you plan to go? It’s expensive and halfway across the country.”

“I have some money saved, I can at least afford the first year if I get a job there. I wanted to ask if I could borrow some money from you. I plan to pay it back, with intere-”

“Absolutely not. I will not pay for you to leave and go to school that far away. You are supposed to be here, with me, practicing.”

“I am never going to  be as strong as you, Mom! And as much as I love the planet and hate how much people are killing it, I don’t want to be an ecoterrorist like you were. I want to go to school and learn and maybe make friends. I want to explore things and figure out what I want to do with my life.”

“Go ahead then. Be ungrateful and leave me here. When you run out of money, you’ll be back.”

Your dad had a much different reaction than your mother.

“I’m so proud of you, Blossom! You are going to be brilliant in whatever you choose to do. Now, I don’t want you worrying about money and working too hard while you’re supposed to be studying and enjoying your youth. I’ve been building a college fund for you ever since your mother found out she was pregnant. You don’t need to worry about a thing.”

You are practically speechless when he shows you the account and helps you set up automatic tuition payments. Your mother refuses to speak to you the few weeks leading up to your move in date and you are happy when your dad asks if he can come with you to help get settled.

The years go by fast. You alternate holidays at your parent’s homes and spend less and less time with your mother. You rarely speak to her at all, sometimes months go by without a word. Your dad is better about calling you, but he gets distracted easily. At some point near the end of junior year, you decide you want to open up a flower shop. Thanks to the college fund from your dad, you have been able to save some money during your years at school. After graduation, you spend a couple years working two jobs. One in plant based research and another at a high end flower shop. You even add in a third job waitressing for a while. But it isn’t until your grandma dies and leaves a large chunk of money to you in her will that you are finally able to open up a tiny store just before your 25th birthday.

Your affinity for plants gives you an edge and saves you a lot of time and money. You keep many pots of live flowers growing in your store and in your tiny apartment. Your customers appreciate seeing how fresh your flowers are, sometimes you even cut their selections in front of them.

You aren’t necessarily hiding your power by studying botany and opening up a flower shop. But this is New York City, and there are much stranger things to notice than a girl with a metaphorically green thumb and a downright friendly relationship with most pollinators. People don’t mind that your flowers stay fresh longer than they should and the plants you sell thrive and grow under near impossible conditions. They don’t mind, likely because they either don’t notice or there are much worse things to be concerned about. Things like electricity controlling criminals and flying, goblin-like villains. 

It’s not that these were daily concerns, far from it. Spider-Man usually kept people safe and you were happy to leave the crime-fighting to him. Except for today. Today, the news alert on your phone has notified you, a few minutes too late, that Spider-Man has been seen fighting a wasp swarm that seems to be controlled by a team of men through some technological device. Too late, because you are currently watching this from behind a dumpster, having run into the alley the moment the explosions started. It looks like less of a fight and more of Spider-Man trying to stay out of the swarm’s reach while doing his best to thin them out and keeping civilians out of harm's way as the men reek general mayhem. His suit doesn’t seem to be sting proof and even with his extra durability, the wasps aren’t only attacking him. Enough stings can cause serious injury, especially in children.

So on this random day in May, you decide to take your first real dip into the world of vigilantism, in a much different way than your mother had ever intended for you. You tuck yourself closer to the wall and you tightly wrap yourself in a suit of vines, masking most of your face in soft pink petals, and weaving soft thin stemmed flowers through your hair until it is tightly braided and concealed. All this takes you less than 5 minutes, your mother would have expected you to do this in less than 1, but you were out of practice.

The first time you figured out how to use your flowers as clothing, you had been 13. Your mother used to wear costumes made of green vines when she was younger, so you scoured the internet for pictures and then diligently studied the way the vines overlapped and intertwined. It had taken you weeks to form something solid and relatively comfortable over your own clothing, but it had been worth it. That was one of the only times your mother had ever been proud of you.

You take a deep steadying breath, then dash back out into the madness. Start small, you tell yourself. Much of the street has been blocked with cars and debris, preventing people from easily escaping, especially the group of elementary school aged children hiding behind their chaperones. This you can help with. You sprint towards them, crouching once you are close, placing your bare palms to the pavement and summoning sturdy vines, mainly composed of kudzu, and instruct it to twist itself into steps, creating a bridge over the worst of the rubble.

“It’s okay, you can come out,” you wave to the children and their 3 supervising adults. Another blast across the street sends vibrations through the ground and a few screams are audible. The kids are terrified and the adults aren’t much better. “Hey, I’ll keep you safe, all you have to do is climb a few feet and you can get outta here.” You beckon them closer and this time they respond.

Half of them are over the structure when a swarm of wasps notices the movement and charges. I can help with this too, you reassure yourself as you reach out pseudo-telepathically to the insects. We are all nest-hive-friends-harmless. Calm-soothe-safe.

It’s hard to directly translate anything you communicate to pollinators, most often it’s more of an impression or image that you send towards them. A feeling or direction. These wasps are confused, the technology controlling them is sending impulses they don’t understand and your instructions are conflicting. You decide it’s best to send them as far away from here as possible. Home. Go home. Leave-flee-fly-away. Home.

The swarms all follow your instructions, breaking free of the control of whatever tech the villains had created. Another explosion almost knocks you off your feet and you turn to watch Spider-Man get thrown back against the building from the force of the blast. 

You have no idea what these guys are after, maybe they just want to blow shit up and kill Spider-Man. You would really like to go back home, but the masked hero isn’t getting up fast enough and the bad guys are pointing their weapons at him.

“Frick, okay, here goes nothing,” you tell yourself as you kneel and place your bare palms on the cracked pavement. Thorny vines of roses reach up from the ground around Spider-Man’s assailants, wrapping around their weapons and yanking them down and to the side until they are no longer pointed at anyone. Spider-Man takes advantage of your distraction and quickly wraps the 3, now unarmed, men in webs, removing any remaining tech from their wrists and leaving them to dangle from the ceiling. You take this as your que to leave, you aren’t needed anymore.

You disappear into an alleyway and remove your plant based suit, before speed walking home as fast as you could.

*****

Spider-Man had noticed you while he was busy dodging explosions and angry wasps. Briefly, he had worried you were another threat, but that fear left once he saw you help the kids and disperse the wasps. It hurt like hell when he got caught between two blasts and slammed his head against the wall. He was preparing to dodge the coming fire even with his bruised ribs and ringing ears, but you had saved him the trouble. 

He wishes he could have talked to you or even just thanked you before you disappeared. At least he had a handful of flowers to take home to Aunt May tonight.

******

Let me know if you want to be added to or taken off a tag list! Feedback is the spice of life, any and all thoughts are welcome.

Series Taglist:

Peter Parker Taglist:

Everything Taglist: @kayhi808

[gatheringfiki]

The following ficlet was written by @metztlilua based on this photoset.

Britchell, Rating TBC.

You might also be able to read this story on AO3.

If you’ve enjoyed this story, please leave a comment either in replies or on AO3. :)

---

Chapter 1

The cold is something Anders isn't used to, or something he'd ever wanted to get used to. He's been looking for that stupid Yggdrasil stick for a long time now and he would be downplaying it if he said he was tired, he hates it in Norway; they only eat fish and the air feels like being tackled by a snow giant and the chicks only wear pants. He's fucking sick of it that's what it is, the month of december is Anders´s least favorite and here where he can only speak to a few English speakers; he feels just as lonely as he did in Auckland except it's harder to get into someone's pants to forget about it; not to mention the afterlife effort he has to put in to maintain his dick interested and not freeze and break off his body.

He finds a promising lead on accident while shopping for alcohol after another month of speaking to useless tourist baiters; the shop owner tells him about a forest back in the least populated regions of Norway and explains in poor English (better than Anders's absolutely UNACCEPTABLE Norwegian) that most people are scared to go into this place; thorns; dead flowers and broken three trunks line the path of whoever dares enter and no one ever comes out; especially around this time of year; he says.

It's ominous and terrifying but better than nothing, and so the blonde sets off for yet another trip to an unknown part of a country he doesn't belong to.

The end of this trip and the idea that he'll find that stupid stick becomes far more and more plausible to Anders when he tries to hire a guide and no one will go with him; not even for twice or triple what they charge and even when he tries to Bragi a poor bastard into going inside all he gets it's the man to drive him close enough; he drops him off in a town called Førresfjorden; beautiful, covered in snow and surrounded by miles and miles of freezing cold, unforgiving sea; he gets it.

The blonde has gotten tired of staring at the views if he's honest. The people there treat him nicely and lead him to the beginning of a forest, again, just pointing fingers, and as the people get sparse; the more suspicious and even pitiful looks they give Anders.

He finds his way through the last of the pavemented roads and to a very suspicious looking sign that poorly (with the water damage and plants growing near it) reads "her ligger den grønne" pointing to the tip of the forest; he thinks about pulling out his phone and translating whatever it is that the sign says but he's far more preoccupied with getting out of there and he ventures into the snow covered woods, the shadows of the three lines make it look like the grass is darker on the inside of the forest but the blonde tells himself that's impossible. The woods go for miles and miles; and he feels like he's walked for hours yet the three line and the pavement are just as close as they where at first; the mud makes it hard for him to lift his feet off the ground and the tips of his fingers are so cold it hurts him to move them “fucks sake” he mumbles as he trips over a three root that surges from the ground; barely catching himself on a three trunk and getting a cut right to the middle of his hand, his gloves didn’t help much and the stinging pain is almost as bad as the print of his bloody hand that somehow remains; sticking out like a sign inside this green and white dome; vibrant and minacious like trying to tell Anders (with his own blood) that he should turn back around. He shudders in disgust; he really does hate blood; but he’d rather see it than die of an infection so he ties his hand with a piece of rag that squishes blood drops out of it; calling the attention of something in the woods as Anders keeps walking.

It’s definitely been a few hours (or at least it feels like that thanks to the general darkness that accompanies the forest) when he stops walking again; afraid he's gotten lost and too tired to move, he takes a second to sit in the nearest rock; somehow drier and not covered in moss like the rest; his hand stings and his stomach growls announcing to anders that he should have had breakfast.

he huffs out annoyed mumbling to himself “not now” looking up at the sky and rolling his back to ease the tension, he finally notices the tree lines stop like in a pattern; a circle where nothing grows; not even grass and the threes are so tall that it looks like its night even tho Anders's watch marks 2 pm; he gets up carefully from the rock; inspecting his wrinkled map and huffing confused; he makes a small turn in his own place trying to understand where he came from; then he waits for a sign of some sorts; maybe a stream or a bird, the silence hits him so hard it is scary; every step reverberates thru the clearing and every breath out of his mouth is like a scream drowned in the wind; he'd think it was somewhat peaceful if it wasn't because that second it hits him

He's lost

Oh so terribly lost; no signal on his phone, no guide, and his map doesn't even show that part of the forest since no one dares enter; he tries to turn back to where he started but no matter which route he takes he always ends up in the same place right in the middle of the circle of..well nothing. He makes a desperate attempt to call for help but his voice gets drowned by the threes; the wind, an unprecedented wind by the way; that the blonde has no idea where it came from or how could it even pass thru the neatly (way to neat) and tightly arranged threes starts to hit him from both sides as he runs around yelling for help; the wind blows on his ears and even starts to push him; lifting leaves and sticks of the ground making it difficult for Anders to see anything but dark green and the snow that circles him menacingly; he puts his hands crossed over in front of him as to not get hit by anything in the face; growing more desperate

“Stop; Stop it. Now!” He yells to the air, not sure what else to do. The tremor in his voice makes it hard to get Bragi’s words out but the wind stops altogether; finally allowing the blonde to open his eyes to what he feels is a poor tasted prank. When he finally puts his hands down; he’s in a different forest; the leaves are all light green and the flowers blossom around him in a tapestry of colors; the sun beams bright making him squint his eyes, mildly grateful for the heat but knowing damn well it wasn't this warm a second ago he looks around confused;; the circle of threes, the rick and the center of dead dirt are nowhere to be seen; now it's just him and the flowers; the grass up to his knees and a small waterfall that leads to a stream.

He is SO fucking lost, no doubt.

[pyritethefool]

chapter 1 is out!

chapter notes below the cut, contains chapter spoilers

Part of something that helps my writing process is jotting down all my stray thoughts for each chapter, a lot of which I'm going to put here just for shits and giggles. Do not feel pressured to read these, as they are absolutely not necessary to understand the story.

This first chapter is pretty lengthy in terms of the Na’vi dictionary and chapter notes as I establish Spider’s character and try to figure out where I’m going w the story, but it will calm down as the fic progresses :)

Italicized phrases or sentences may be translated Na’vi, based on the context. This applies to the prayer Spider says over the dead ilu.

"There is also almost a running gag of sorts with Spider using fire extinguishers. He uses a fire extinguisher to break his way out of his cell in The High Ground, then he uses a fire extinguisher to bash Ward unconscious in The Way of Water." (Source: Avatar wiki)

I absolutely included the fire extinguisher thing in this fic it's so funny to me

Did you know seaweed is algae? I did not know seaweed was algae.

Idk if the Hallelujah Mountains are actually 8,000 ft in the air that was a wild guess based off some random info on the wiki

Spider was raised with a very unique mix of human and Na’vi culture, and throughout this fic that is probably the thing I struggle the most to portray. Based on the comics and the way he generally presents himself, I see Spider as someone who is very integrated in Na’vi culture, and will therefore use a lot of Na’vi words for certain plants and animals. However, his humanity and otherness growing up is still a vital part of his personality, so I’ll do my best to include that in his character and the story’s themes.

Nalutsa was vaguely intended to be the calf of the ilu Spider prayed over, but I never quite found a way to work this into the story. So, it’s technically canon but never confirmed in the storyline.

[msnihilist]

On a whim, I'm working on a podfic for 'Lysis,' my multi-chapter Ben/Elena fic. This is just me reading the prelude, which is very short. I'm still debating if I want to upload this onto YouTube in parts, or maybe just put them all together into one long video. It will probably be somewhere between an hour to two hours long if I do that.

Anyway, if you like this idea, let me know! I might do it for more of my other fanfics in the future.

Text below the cut if you want to follow along:

The Plumber base was silent, as it always was at this time of night. The green-tinted lighting meant that the hall looked the same as it did turning the day. Only the lack of other lifeforms was different, and it came with an eerie, almost uncanny sort of feeling, as if something were wrong.

The lone Plumber guard who was circling the hallways muffled a yawn. It was shaping up to be another dull night.

There was a clatter from down the hall. The guard — an Appoplexian who got roped into covering his friend's shift — was immediately on edge. Nothing in the base made noise without reason. He headed towards the sound.

The hallway opened into the base's main hub. It was silent and dark in here, too. The many supercomputers and monitors were all off for the night. The guard scanned the room, searching for what could have made the noise… And relaxed when he spotted a pen and a few loose papers on the floor next to someone’s desk. They must have been set precariously on the edge at the end of the work day and had finally fallen off.

The guard bent over and gathered the supplies. He set them back onto the desk they had fallen from, swept his eyes and his flashlight around the room one more time, then he left.

Once he was several hallways down, even the on-edge guard didn’t hear the soft whir of a computer booting up.

A fragmented hand, swarming with thousands of tiny movements, touched the side of the computer. A few tiny pieces of it broke off and entered the desktop, connecting to the hardware and pilfering the data banks stored within. Once the figure had the information that they were looking for, they retracted their pieces and turned the computer back off. As silently as they had entered, the figure dissolved into a shapeless swarm and slipped out of the room.

The swarming figure hung close to the walls and the floor. When it passed a security camera, the figure would pause and make sure to disrupt the live feed, inserting looping footage of the empty hall. The guards watching the cameras didn’t notice anything amiss as the figure made their way through the base, slipping underneath high-security doors and gliding down monitored hallways.

Finally, the figure reached their intended target — the location that they had gathered from the computer. Compressing their loose shape into a thin mass less than a hair wide, they slid through the gap between the door and the ground, easily bypassing the last barrier standing between them and victory.

Their destination was a small bedroom intended for a single soldier. There was an adjacent bathroom. The only noteworthy customization in the barren room was a single framed photograph sitting on the bedside table. The figure paused and stared at the photo for a moment.

If they’d had eyes, their gaze would have gone soft.

Refocusing on their task, the figure moved towards the bed. They held out a single finger, barely brushing the sleeping individual’s ear. The occupant of the bed didn't so much as twitch as a single, microscopic carrier of their ‘virus’ crawled into his ear. One was all that would be needed for this first part.

A couple dozen objects smaller than a cell were all that was needed to make Ben Tennyson’s life crumble to pieces.

The figure shot one last, longing look at the framed photograph… Then they exited the room the same way they came in. 

No one saw the figure enter, and no one detected them leaving, either. 

The seed had been planted. In a week's time, they would have everything they had ever wanted. 

Read the rest of this fanfic on AO3.