#For some reason I was more scandalized about some light cussing toward the end

[social-cocoon]

I watch all the live action ATLA eps and overall I think it was fine. The first ep was atrocious but the rest of them weren't so bad, though some of the changes they made started losing me in the last 2 eps.

Also I may have become a giant Kyoshi fangirl

[tokoyamisstuff]

Scandal Ch. 1 - Loki x Reader

Summary: After your child is born a Frost Giant, your husband accuses you of infidelitiy, unaware about his own heritage...

Warnings: Pregnancy, Childbirth, Angst, Mild Cussing

Noteable: Takes place before Thor 1, Asgardian Fem! Reader

Words: ~1800

I Story Masterlist I General Masterlist I

It was as if your anchestors wanted to deliver a warning, for Asgard had never faced a storm matching this fateful afternoon.

The thunder swallowed all of your screams and cries, every curse you spoke with each contraction as the baby made it’s way into this world. All this time, your precious husband would never leave your side, letting you squeeze his hand as much as you needed.

“Only a little bit more, my Lady!” the midwife shoutet from between your legs, her tone calm yet cheerful. “I can already see the head!”

“I’m right here. You’re doing wonderful, my petal.” Loki was softly petting your hair, pressing a wet kiss into your forehead. “You are incredibly strong, Y/N. And I love you so much!”

Remaining collected was using up all of his energy at that very moment, you knew that much. Yet not even the God of Lies could hide all the helplessness and excitement stirring in his head at that very moment.

Being with the Prince of Asgard was just like in a dream.

Once you get to know him, that troublesome arrogant lone wolf turned into a smart, caring - and especially charming - prince. And hel, Loki treated you like a Queen.

All this pain you were experiencing right now would ultimately lead to the greatest bliss imagineable - just like it was with Loki.

Oh, how dearly you had fought, suffered, yearned for him, only to be rewarded with heartbreak and frustration. In between his feverishly chase for the throne and his rivalry with Thor, there was just no room for a loving relationship to grow.

The crushing weight of thinking himself unworthy for affection had made him cold and bitter over the millenias, telling himself the comforting lie that he was above all, born for a glorious purpose.

For the God of Mischief, whose kinsmen had always made him feel out of place or under-appreciated, the process of trusting had always been one step forward, three steps back.

But through your compassion, and with a great deal of patience and understanding, you slowly but steadily melted the ice around the prince’s heart.

Because deep inside, you always knew that it was worth it.

And today would be the peak of your romance: Your child would forever remind the Odinson that he belonged somewhere - right here, with you.

“It’s a boy!”

“A heir?!” Loki exclaimed, smothering your face in kisses. “Well done!”

You smiled weakly at his excitement, in between choked sobs. All that your exhausted self was able to process was the fact that your child is born - and you already loved him beyond reason.

“Where is he?!” you whimpered, unable to realize how the air in the room had shifted - for when the midwife touched the infant, she began to scream in agony.

“What’s wrong?!” Loki’s eyes were narrowing at the midwife that almost dropped his newborn, detecting some sort of burn wound on her palm. Quickly, she had covered the boy in a towel, aware that if any harm came over that baby, she was to die at the God of Mischief’s hands.

A flash of lightning was brightening the whole room, which had only been flooded by dim candle light until now.

Another one of the midwife’s screeched in terror, almost stumbling as she frantically erscaped your bedchamber. The adrenaline from birth and worry about your child sharpened your senses, yet concentration was almost impossible.

Still, the words she was yelling as she ran down the hall send a shiver down your spine:

“It’s a monster.”

Your head was spinning as you rushed into an upright position, with two nurses pressing you onto the bed again. “Milady, you need to rest! It’s still too early!”

“What is wrong with my child?!?” you desperately screamed, kicking with your legs to free yourself from their hold. “Give it to me!”

Their expressions were too much to bear. Your head was spinning, seeing pity mixing up with disgust and anger in their eyes.

“Enough!” Loki finally broke his own silence, his mind having been occupied with all the horror scenarios one could think about.

Walking up to the midwife carrying the infant, he demanded seeing it. “Your highness, don’t-” yet the midwife’s beg was for naught.

Yes, everything will be alright. Loki will take care of it, like he always does. After all, he’s your savior, your hero, the love of your life...

Gently and insecure, your husband cradled the newborn in his arms - a sight to behold. And the baby’s strong cries assured you that it was at least alive.

However, as soon as he dared to unwrap the towel, revealing it’s face, Loki’s heartbeat completely stopped for a second. His trembling lip began to shake, mouth widely agape as he took in the child’s form.

For a brief moment, his mind was completely blank. All emotion dropped from his face before taking in a complete different demeanour.

“Wha-” you wouldn’t dare ending that sentence when your husband’s furious eyes met yours.

The air was so thick, you thought not even Thor’s hammer could break it. Clearly ritten on Loki’s usual unreadable face were so many emotions at once:

Aversion, fury, incredible sorrow...all directed towards you? The child?

Impossible.

Loki Odinson loved you more than anything in this world, this was the only thing you had always been sure he wasn’t lying about.

“From all the people I expected to betray me...” His voice was hoarse, as if the ache in his heart was wrapping around his throat. “Why did it have to be you?”

You could feel the horrendous aura, a wave of sadness and despair coming from your husband. Seeing him like this was like torture.

“What- what do you mean, darling-”

“Don’t fucking call me that, you harlot!” That was surely not the first time your lover had raised your voice against you - he could be a bit difficult at times, obviously.

But this time was different somehow. It sounded so...ultimate.

And the Loki you knew would never use such harsh words against you!

“Please, I beg of you...just let me see my baby!” Everything was just too much for you, almost to the point of passing out. 

And the man did as you pleaded, almost shoving the child into your arms. “There, have your bastard! And make sure to never show your filthy faces to me ever again!”

With that, he stormed out of the room, leaving you with those strange nurses looking at you like you’ve just commited an unforgiveable crime.

There was no use in overthinking this. He’ll come back like he always did. You can work this out, whatever it is - even if you are gonna be mad for a very long time, making such a fuss and then disappearing instead of taking care of you, the mother of his child.

Out of a whim, you decided to finally observe the little being you’ve been waiting for all those months.

A loud gasp escaped your mouth as you realized just why everyone was so worked up about that little boy. Yet the sound you made was solely surprised - not a hint of fear or rejection laced your voice.

It was a beautiful baby boy, little fists balled to the air as if he was searching for the warmth of his parents - though his skin was in the shade of a dark blue. When you dared running your hand over the deep lines and ridges on his body, the stinging pain of frostbite immediately stung your fingertips. His eyes snapped open, looking at you with black irises through red scleras.

You knew the meaning of this, even though you didn’t understand how this was possible: This child was a biological Frost Giant. A small one, but nonetheless.

A curse? Was someone trying to play your family dirty? No. If that was the case, the child wouldn’t also have actual powers together with the appearance.

Just how long have those tears been running down your cheeks in thick streams already? You wouldn’t know.

Only one thing came as clear as daylight to you: You loved this baby, more than anything in this world. And no matter the hardships that came along with it - you would protect him, no matter what!

“He’s magnificent...” you sniffled, pecking some quick kisses onto his small body before the cold could hurt you. “I love you so, so much...!”

Not minding the judging looks of the nurses, let alone wondering about the consequences, resolve was starting to give you new strenght.

The boy got a grasp on your finger, and instead of your skin freezing off as expected, your magic allowed him to the boy to finally disguise itself as one of you. How was this even possible? Well, this is probably the first time something like this ever happened, so no one could prepare you for what to expect with this child.

They all say that birth was an impactful event - but nothing could’ve prepared you for everything that you had to endure on this day.

Yet nothing could’ve stopped you from believing that this child was the greatest blessing that ever came over you.

Now you only had to convince your husband of that very fact...

“Y/N Y/L/N!” the guard wouldn’t even bother adressing you with your full title as his harsh voice woke you up. When had you drifted away into slumber anyway? You were probably way more worn out than you wanted to admit...

Your eyes immediately snapped open, heart skipping a beat until you saw that your son was still sleeping soundly right next to you. Stroking his cheek as he smiled up to you, it almost made you forget about that burdensome situation.

“Hey!” Protectingly, you were holding onto your child for dear life as the guard approached both of you. “I have an important message to deliver!”

You scowled, almost like an animal mother protecting their offsprings with baring teeth, even though you knew in that state you would be completely and utterly helpless. “Why now? What could be more important than the well-being of my child?”

The answer let your blood run cold:

“I am here to announce that Lady Y/N Y/L/N has to face a trial in front of the Allfather. The following crimes she is being accused of: Infidelity, collaboration with the enemy and trying to sneak one of them into our glorious kingdom.”

[ithehellisbucky]

Yellow and Fuckboy- Random People Part 1

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Requested: None

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: Cussing, brief mentions of sexual harassment, brief talks about eviction, general bitchiness

Author’s Note: Ahhhhh, I finally posted something. I know I’m a day late, but I tried my best. I only had enough time to edit the first half, so sorry if there are any errors. This will be a series, with about 5, 6, or 7 parts, it depends on the turn this takes. Requests and taglists are open. Love you, and stay safe out there!

This is the end. Standing on a crosswalk in the middle of a bustling street with people screaming all around you. This is the end. But then again, you never know what the ending is until it's done. But it isn't done yet.

6 years. 6 years at that job. A good job. A job with a guarantee of climbing the corporate ladder. A job that you had just been fired from.

Why the fuck were you fired? Stupid bullshitters caught one whiff of a sexual harassment scandal and booted you out without a second thought. And blamed it on your "work ethic". Stupid Jonah should have been fired instead, he was the one who would wolf whistle and "flirt" (the shitty thing that he tried to claim he was doing instead of sexual harassment) whenever you walking by his desk. Not you.

Then after all of that shit, your landlord evicted you. Said that "you wouldn't be able to pay the rent" because you were fired. You would've been able to throw something together if he had trusted you. If someone had trusted you.

But no one had. You're just standing in the middle of the street. Without anyone. Trying to convince yourself that this wasn't the end of the world.

~

This is the beginning. The beginning of something. The beginning of a whole new future. In the middle of the bustling street, there was only one spotlight. And that spotlight is on James Barnes. 

Today was the day. The day to end all other. Bucky's pulse was the only sound he could make out, even though there was noise all around him. 

"What am I gonna do without you Buck." He turned around to look at a face he had seen almost every day of his life, a face he almost forgot was standing right next to him.

"I don't know Steve, but you’re gonna figure it out." The better question in Bucky's mind was what the hell he was going to do without Steve. Every day of his life he had seen Steve. What the hell was he going to do without the scrawny kid who wasn't afraid of a fight but definitely should be? Possibly survive, probably die.

On the inside, Bucky had no idea what the hell he was going to do. All he knew, is that this was the beginning of something. He didn't know what. All he knew was that it was the beginning

~

An apartment. That's all you needed. An apartment. One bedroom, one bathroom. Maybe even a kitchen, or a living room if you were lucky. Hell, at this point you'd settle for no windows.

Today is hell. It honestly couldn't get any worse.

Something hits your back. It was light, and for a moment you thought it could be a pebble or something. You reach behind you and touch the top of your back, right where the fabric of your shirt meets the strap of your backpack.

Nothing was there. You shrug your shoulders and continue to walk along. The same sensation hits your nose. Nothing, again. All there is is a small wet splotch. Oh. Oh no. This is bad. This is worse than bad. This is devastatingly horrible. 

Looking up towards the sky in horror, you wince as another raindrop hits your cheek. The movies were right. You should never say "it can't get any worse." Because then it’ll immediately start raining. 

At least it's only a small drizzle. Nothing too bad could come from it.

...Fuck.

Almost the exact second that thought ran through your mind that a complete and total downpour washed over you. Thunder was crashing all around you, and everyone started running. You pull up your backpack and put it over your head. Like that would do anything to stop the flood that was coming down to you.

If this was a movie you would be running through the rain to your estranged lover, but alas, this isn't a movie. Instead, you're running to a diner that is barely in your line of vision. 

As you run towards the diner the wheel of your suitcase gets caught on the curb, causing you to fall over. While pushing yourself off the ground, you look down and see that your knees have been bloodied by the fall. 

Sighing, you straighten your suitcase and continue to walk towards the restaurant at a much slower pace; partially because of your skimmed knees, and partially because your mood is just as hurt.

Once you reach the diner you stand in the foyer, thinking about all the horrific turns this day has taken. Wiping your feet on the mat and putting your backpack back on your back you sigh loudly into the universe. Not to a person, place, or thing, to the universe.

You open the door and take a whiff of fresh coffee and warm waffles. You roll your suitcase over the bump in the doorway and hear a clanging noise. 

The diner was more crowded than most of the other diners you had been to in Brooklyn, and you wonder what makes it so special. The funny thing was that most people weren't in there to shield themselves from the rain, the majority of people looked like this was just another day, not the day the world was ending.

Dragging your suitcase behind you, you walk towards one of the only empty seats at the countertop. There is one empty seat on your left, and the one on your right is taken by a man in a blue business suit.

You take a seat on the stool and plop your suitcase down on the seat beside you. If someone wants to sit there enough they'll ask. You take a look at the menu in front of you. Within two seconds you had instantly picked out the meal that you wanted: chocolate chip pancakes and a coffee. 

Waiting for the waiter to come over to take your order wasn't easy. You had just been fired, evicted, and then caught in a goddamn thunderstorm; you aren't in the mood to be patient.

For a few minutes, the seat next to you was empty. Then, someone walked up being you, and said the exact words: "Is this seat taken."

~

A rainstorm. Just his luck. Possible the only thing that could happen to take Bucky down a notch had happened, a rainstorm. It may not be the worst thing on the planet, but it's certainly up there.

Almost the exact second he had said goodbye to Steve for the last time in a long time, the sky opened up its floodgates and poured them down onto him. It was almost as if the weather was reciprocating the emotions he was feeling.

While running to the nearest building he could find, the only thought running through Bucky's head was how he would find the airport. He barely left Brooklyn, and when he did do it, it was by subway. 

The bell chimed as he entered the building, which he could now see was a diner from the decor. Panting, he looked around the room for a seat. There didn't seem to be any until he spotted one with a suitcase on it.

The woman that the suitcase presumably belonged to was wearing a purple sweater and blue jeans that stopped midway up her calves. She was (for some twisted reason that was beyond him) wearing cheap yellow flip-flops that looked like they were from dollar tree. Her backpack was black, and the straps were sagging so much that the bottom of the bag reached several inches below the bottom of the seat she was sitting on.

Grumbling, Bucky walked over to the countertop, thinking of how much he didn't want to deal with some crazy lady wearing yellow flip-flops in the middle of a thunderstorm.

"Is this seat taken?" Bucky asks the yellow-flip-flop-wearing-lady with grain in his voice.

~

You turn around, trying to make the exhaustion on your face as clear as humanly possible. Turning to face the man who had so *rudely* interrupted your peaceful, if not depressing, brooding, you plaster a scowl over your face.

However, when you turn to see him, you see something that you were without a doubt not expecting. A handsome young man (dear god you sound like a grandmother).

He's wearing a brown coat, and the shirt beneath it is a navy blue. He's wearing a pair of dirty blue jeans, and it looks like the second or third time they’ve been worn without being washed. The black baseball hat he's wearing somehow matches perfectly with the rest of the ensemble. His dark brown hair is tousled in a way that's halfway between "fuckboy" and "my hair is messy because I was busy making you breakfast at 8 AM and I didn't have time to brush it."

But even when you take all of this into account (his flawless body, hair, face, eyes, and general vibe) you couldn’t bring yourself to be nice to him on such a shitty day. "What the fuck is your problem."

Instead of acting offended, or gasping in horror, he simply rolls his eyes. Yep, definitely a New York native.

"My fucking problem is that your backpack is in the seat I need to sit in." He almost looks more annoyed that you... Almost.

You roughly pull your suitcase off of the stool and onto the floor, not breaking eye contact with the fuckboy (that is the option that you have decided to go with since he's pissed you off this much).

He kicks your suitcase out of the way, and for a second he looks at you like he's expecting a big ass reaction, instead, all you do is scoff and stare straight in front of you.

The waiter walks up to you, and within a heartbeat, you can tell that she's new to Brooklyn. She has straight and perfectly combed black hair that doesn't have a single hair loose. She has perfectly straight posture, and the look in her eyes of someone who hasn't seen someone pee on a subway. Not to mention that that makeup matches with her skin tone perfectly, not the half-toned shit that's 2 shades off your skin tone that you wear.

"Can I take your order?" Her voice is far too cheery for a diner in Brooklyn, even the waiters who fake it for the tips couldn't muster up that much positivity.

Feigning a smile you simply say, "chocolate chip pancakes, and coffee as black as my heart." The waitress looked taken aback, and the sickly sweet smile that you choose to plaster on your face remained the same. "Thanks," you look to see her nametag "Manta."

Fuckboy snorts, and you can tell that he is far more amused by the situation than you are. "And all have the eggs and sausage with the-" snort "coffee as black as her heart."

'Manta' has an awkward look on her face, and you can tell that she is trying to push the negative emotions down. Her face soon perks up, and as she takes your menus she responds with: "I'll have that right out for you." 

Your smile remains sickly sweet as she walks away, but it immediately drops the second she leaves your eyesight.

"Why the fuck are you wearing yellow flip-flops?" Fuckboy says with a sneer.

"Why the fuck aren't you wearing yellow flip-flops." You respond, raising both your eyebrows and speaking in a mocking tone.

~

This lady is getting on Bucky's fucking nerves. She acted like she ran the fucking place, when in fact the only thing she had control over her fucking flip-flops. He was trying not to be a sexist bitch, but Bucky was wondering how anyone could be so shit-headed.

In Bucky's eyes, today was supposed to be the perfect day. Starting over. Joining the military. Yet in "Yellow" (the name Bucky choose to call her in his head because of her obnoxious yellow flip-flops) seemed to be put on this earth to make Bucky feel any emotion but happiness. Fine, two could play at that game.

"You know, I was having a decent fucking day, so I would appreciate if you try not to ruin what's left of it." He said while staring at the clock and wondering how quickly he could get out of the establishment.

"We don't always get what we want." She shook her head in a way that made it seem like she was mocking him, which she didn't seem to be doing. Even if she was, she was doing it horribly.

"Can't I get what I want this fucking time." Bucky reaches into his pocket and rolls around a cigarette that he hasn't had the chance to smoke yet, and contemplates what the consequences of him pulling it out would be.

"No, apparently you can't," Yellow responds. Both of them were staring ahead into nothing. 

The waitress, Manta, comes back with Yellow's pancakes. Yellow's fake sugary sweet demeanor returns and Bucky can tell under the artificial smile she seems slightly happy to receive the food.

Manta puts a coffee in front of each of them, and when she speaks she does it with her trademark smile, "Your sausage and eggs will be right out sir."

Putting on a fake smile (unlike Yellow he actually meant to be nice, and not just to be evil) he said: "thank you so much."

After receiving his coffee he turned to Yellow and said: "What the fuck made you act this way? Why in God's name would you be so horrible to someone who had done absolutely nothing."

Her head snaps back over to Bucky, and she makes piercing eye contact. "You know what made me act this way. You know fucking why?" Yellow seemed to actually state this as a question, but before Bucky could respond she continued.

"I was fucking fired because some shithead said he wanted to get in my jeans. Then I was evicted from my apartment by my asshole landlord. I have nothing and no one in my life that needs me, so why the fuck should I act happy." She pauses to catch her breath, then continues on her tirade. 

"I've been nice to people who haven't deserved my entire fucking life, and I'm so fucking sick of it. You have a look on your face that says that the hardest decision you've ever had to make was to fuck someone from the front or the back. Get the fuck over yourself, some people have shit to deal with."

~

Why the fuck had you just explained your life story to a stranger. No idea. It just felt kind of right. In a weird and twisted way, you felted more comforted with this stranger than around assholes you had known your whole life.

"I'm sorry you went through that, but that doesn't mean you get to treat people like shit," Fuckboy said in a tone softer than any that someone had spoken to you in years.

Before you know what's happening you feel tears welling up in your eyes. "You're probably right. Shit, no. You're definitely right. I swear to god that I've never acted this way before. It's just, today is different." You look over to Fuckboy and shrug your head. "I've always had shit days, it's just that today was takes the cake."

Fuckboy looks down at his shoes and then back up at you. "Listen, I'm not sorry for what I said, I just want you to know that I believe you. From the story, you told me I'm pretty sure you're not used to people saying that to you.

"I think we got off on the wrong foot." He says in a tone that you're certain you haven't been spoken to before.

"I do too." You exclaim as you twist your lips around, keeping at least one part of your body busy as your mind roams Fuckboy's mannerisms.

"Here's your egg and sausage, sir." Manta puts a plate down in front of Fuckboy, much to his delight.

Fuckboy immediately stuffs his face with the sausage, and then looks over and glares at you. Understanding what his eyes were saying, you turn to face Manta.

"I'm sorry Manta. I didn't mean to be a bitch. I've had a long day, and, I don't know. It's not really an excuse, I'm just sorry." You look at her in hope, with a neutral expression on your face.

For a second you think she's going to react badly, and then she perks up again, excited by your apology. "Don't worry about it! We all have our bad days, and I just happened to catch you on yours."��

You let out a sigh of relief and smile a genuine smile at her acceptance. "Um, here's my card; I don't work at the place listed there anymore, but the personal number still works. If you ever need a favor, just call me. I'm almost always by my phone, and what I mean by that is that I'm almost always scrolling through supermodels Insta feeds."

Upon excepting the card Manta perked up even more, "Thank you so much."

~

"So, how am I doing?" Yellow asks Bucky.

"...Actually pretty good. I'm super impressed that you can just turn it off and on like that, pretty twisted superpower." He exclaims with a chuckle.

"Thank you, for your overwhelming support," Yellow responds. After hearing her say this Bucky lets out a chuckle, and in his heart of hearts he truly means it. 

"So, what's your life story. I already told you mine." Yellow Pauses to think for a second. "I swear if it's more depressing than mine, I'm going to be super pissed."

Bucky ponders the question for a moment, and then answers with: "Nothing too horrible I have a sister named Rebecca, my mom is my favorite person. I have a scrawny best friend named Steve." Bucky continues to think for a few more seconds and then, like a lightbulb, Bucky remembers something that is very important to his story. "And I am joining the military, today."

Yellow's jaw drops to the fucking floor, much to Bucky's amusement. "I'm so fucking sorry. If I had known I probably would of, well, done the same thing." She pauses and looks the other way in shame. "I'm sorry."

"It's all good, I wasn't really attached to my pride anyway." Yellow feigned shock and Bucky responded by chuckling. He was really liking her more and more as the moments passed.

"Oh, and by the way, my name is-" She started to say, but then Bucky quickly cut her off. 

"I don't want to know your name. I'll probably never see you after today, and I don't want another thing to miss." Bucky knew that he wanted to know her name, but he also knew that he'd regret it if he found out.

Yellow raised her eyebrows in confusion (Bucky was beginning to think that this was a mannerism of hers) but she soon realized what he was getting at and then lowered them. "Okay, so then what do you propose you call me then?"

Bucky wanted to act like he was pondering this question, even when in reality he had made up the nickname in his head. "Yellow, because of your flip-flops."

"Again with the flip-flops! What is with your obsession?!" She counters with a laugh.

"So my name is-" Bucky says with a smile, counteracting her statement.

"Na-ah-ah," Yellow responds, waving her finger in front of Bucky's face as if to scold him, much to his amusement. "If I get a codename, so do you."

"What's it gonna be?" Bucky asks entertained by this entire conversation, and curious to see what nickname she was going to give him.

"Fuckboy." She says, making a definite stance.

"Thank you, for that overwhelming compliment," Bucky responds, slightly taken aback by her brutal remark.

"It's not a bad thing. It's because of your hair." She says, her grin growing wider by the minute.

"My hair?" Bucky responds, not sure of what to do with that piece of information.

"Yes your hair, gives off major Jack Dawson vibes." She counters with a chuckle.

"So Jack is suddenly is suddenly a fuckboy?" Bucky exclaims as he takes another bite of his eggs.

"Need I remind you that he painted women nude in fucking France." She says right before swallowing a bite of her pancakes.

"I get your point, Fuckboy it is," Bucky says with a smile that lights up his entire face, causing a chain reaction on Yellow.

~

Fuckboy was charming. Then again, all fuckboys are charming. But he seemed different, he seemed... Softer. 

"Why are you joining the military, if you don't mind me asking." You exclaim as you twirl your finger around on the rim of your coffee. 

"I dunno; my entire life I just wanted to help people, and I found a way to do that using something I'm good at. Fighting." He exclaims through a full mouth of eggs.

"It sounds like you do know." You say a second before you put another bite of pancake into your mouth.

"Know what?" Fuckboy asks you through a mouth full of eggs.

"Why you're joining the military." You say, your mouth equally as stuffed.

"That's what I tell people." He says, looking over to you with endearing eyes. "I really don't know why. If I think too hard about it I come to the conclusion that it's because I know my life will have come to nothing if I don't do something noteworthy."

His brow creases, and you ponder for a second what your response will be. "How do you know that you'll do something noteworthy in the army? How do you know that your life won't end up as anything no matter how hard you try to make it do the opposite." 

Fuckboy turns to look at you, amusement resting on his features. "Thank you for the vote of encouragement."

"I'm only saying this because I don't think you could ever be nothing. I immediately classified you as a Leonardo DiCaprio type, that's not nothing. You're going to do great thing's whether it's in the military or not."

Fuckboy looks up from his eggs in earnest. "Thank you for saying that, it makes me feel a lot better."

"The trick is to be as brutally honest as possible. You're bound to say at least one thing right if 89% of everything you say is completely and totally devastating bullshit."

You finish off the last bite of your pancake and pick up your suitcase from the floor. "Well, I expect payment from my words of wisdom to be the eight dollars for my pancakes, peace out!"

This conversation had become too emotional, you knew you would have gotten attached if you continued the conversation.

"Wait no!" Fuckboy catches your arm, and your secretly happy that he wanted you to stay with him.

"I don't have to check in until six, so would you like to stay with me until then? I was going to go around some landmarks, and maybe see a broadway show, but I would appreciate it if you stayed with me, for just these few hours."

His forehead was doing that cute crease thing, and you faked internal conflict before saying what was always on your mind through it all: "yes."

His face practically explodes with excitement, and yours does too. You and Fuckboy didn't have forever, but at least you had today. And you were going to live this day as if it were your last.

Part 2

Requests are open!

~Taglists are open~

Permanent Tags: @natasha-danvers​

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[diyunho]

The Joker x Reader - “Mother”

The Joker doesn’t have a past: nobody knows who he is or where he came from. But he has a Mother and God help the ones finding out the secret: they won’t live to see another day. Even if she is a mystery herself, The King of Gotham wouldn’t trust anybody else because a long time ago Mother proved him wrong when he thought nobody cared.

“So what do you say, Mister J? Would you like to close the deal?”

The Joker takes a deep breath, pretending to weight in the offer, then swiftly answers:

“I don’t do human trafficking.”

“Oh, come on Mister J, there’s such good money from it,” Lex points out towards the piles of $100.00 bills scattered on the negotiation table. The other 6 men in the room nervously watch The King of Gotham, hoping he will change his mind.  They need his territory to expand the business.

“Allow me to show you something,” Lex continues, signaling Jase and the gangster leaves for a couple of minutes, returning with a woman he pushes inside the room, cussing at her as she fights his grip. J is silent, observing the scene without any trace of emotion on his face.

“Take this one for example,” Jase slams you against the wall, telling you to behave. “We got her last night. A little bit on the older side, looks like she is in her mid 30’s, but you know, some clients would still prefer her over the younger ones: she’s beautiful and we can get a few productive years out of her.”

You shiver, disgusted, being so cold you can barely think straight.

J stares you down and the mobster keeps on going:

“One of my men wanted to sample the merchandise this morning and she knocked his lights out. As a punishment, we kept her in the shed outside for hours; almost below zero in this crazy weather. That ought to teach her who’s in charge! It usually does the trick, ain’t that right, honey?” he winks and they all laugh, except The Joker.

You bite on your blue lips so you can feel them again: you were in that shed for so long without a coat, just jeans and a sweater. Frozen to the bone, you can’t control your shaking. You hug yourself in a faint attempt to warm up.

“Cat got your tongue?” another one snickers, thrilled at you present situation. “Mister J,” he turns towards their guest,” would you like to evaluate the assets before you say no the deal? She needs a lesson and you are perfect for the task: do whatever you want with her. I bet you like the feisty ones, don’t…you…?” His smirk turns into a grimace when J gives him a demented glare.

“And how the fuck do you know what I like?” The Joker growls, displeased with the assumption while tapping his fingers on the table. “I’m not a rapist!” he snarls, cracking his neck.

The guys are all fast to talk, realizing they upset him; they had no idea this will take such an unexpected turn.

“No way, Mister J!”

“By all means, we didn’t mean to offend you!”

“She wants it for sure: it’s her job. That’s what whores do!” Jase concludes, trying to convince J of their goodwill.

“And how do you know she’s a whore?” The Clown Prince of Crime smacks his lips, sighing with annoyance.

“Sir, you know that…”

J interrupts, muttering through his clenched teeth:

“The fact that you kidnap somebody and force them into prostitution doesn’t make them a whore!”

The wannabe business partners have no clue on how to reply and why this is sliding on such a dangerous slope so fast: they thought they had it figured out.

“You there!” The Joker shouts, making you gaze his way. “You wanna have sex with me?”he bluntly inquires.

You nod a no and a confirmation is expected:

“Are you sure?”

“Y-yes,” the reply fallows without hesitation.

“She said no,” J becomes even more imposing as soon as he adjusts the collar of his long, white furry coat. “If I force her it’s rape and I am not a rapist,” he underlines the last word, getting pissed.

“Mister J, come on now. We just thought…”

“You thought wrong!” he raises his voice and gets up from the table, stepping towards you, not excited about this stupid evening.

He stops in front of you and takes the coat from his shoulders, placing it around you.

“Are you OK?” he asks, looking you in the eyes.

“U-hum,” you sniffle, already better since the fur is so cozy.

“One of these days you’ll get yourself killed, or worse…” he leans over to whisper in your ear.

The men are getting impatient; something is off.

“The girls are here,” you announce in a low tone, resting your forehead on his chest. “All my children are here; I saw them last night when I was brought to this place.”

“What’s going on?” Jase moves his chair and the others follow.

“SIT. YOUR. ASS.DOWN !!!!!!” J commands with such ferocity they have no choice but to execute his request.

“Who…who is this, Mister J ?” Lex suspiciously brings up the concern they all share.

“This, gentlemen,” he promptly turns towards them, softly caressing your back, “is my Mother. THE Mother,” he emphasizes the statement and it suddenly makes you warmer. It’s the first time in so many years he referred to you as his Mother.

The gangsters exchange quick glances, panicking.

“This is Mother?” Lex holds his breath, hoping it’s all a misunderstanding.

The wild grin on your face and the fact that The Joker admitted to the connection between the two of you confirms their fear: at this point they know none of them will live to tell.

*****************

Nobody knew where you came from. Almost 26 back then, you already had a whole underground network going. So much mystery and secrecy surrounding your existence, so many rumors and assumptions about who you really were. Not a single soul was even aware of your real name; everybody just called you Mother.

Why? Because you helped and cared about those that didn’t matter: the ones living on the streets, the ones abandoned by society or deemed to insignificant to take into consideration when they were abused, went missing or forced to perform unspeakable acts simply because they were considered worthless.

You worked bellow the grid and often used less than orthodox methods to accomplish your missions. Even the authorities used you when they had no leads for different unsolvable cases, especially regarding human trafficking. All done behind closed doors, of course: Mother’s name never came up in any reports or in the news when there was an unexpected breakthrough. How could they admit they got help from someone like you?! It would have been such a scandal if the public knew the truth.

Many times you would go undercover yourself, having your crew ready to take action when you gave them the signal. Some other times you would actually be the bait, walking alone at night in less than respectable neighborhoods, especially districts with high volume of kidnappings, allowing yourself to be abducted if the occasion arose.  

It was an opportunity to infiltrate the complicated maze of human smuggling in order to try and save as many as you could. It was your choice and you had your reasons, despite your team’s efforts to make you change your mind.

What you did was very dangerous, that’s why you changed your physical appearance very often: you never looked the same for more than a few days at a time, never stayed for too long at any hideout. Always on the move, hardly traceable or recognizable if you didn’t want to be.

**************

The first time you met him was on a Friday. He hesitantly stepped inside your office at your main hideout and looked nervous noticing all the security around the place. You were sitting at the desk and Kai was standing to your left; he wouldn’t have abandoned that spot even dead.

“How old are you?” you asked the young man, trying to figure out what’s going on with him. He had long brown hair back then, almost elbow length and his blue eyes were a lighter shade than today.

“22…” he muttered.

“More like 19-20,hm?” you called him out on his obvious lie. ”Anyway, what’s you name?”

He struggled to answer.

“I need a name, I don’t care if it’s your real one or not. Make up something!”

“Umm…Jack,” he shortly replied.

“Jack in the Box!” you snorted, amused by the first thought you got when you heard the name. Definitely not the real moniker but it was fine.

You took out a cigarette from the pack and Kai was quick to snatch it.

“You have enough bad habits, Mother,” and he put it inside the jacket of his suit, knowing you are not going to be happy.

“Are you kidding me?! Give that back!”

Kai pretended not to hear and you weren’t excited:

“You’re fired!”

“No I’m not,” he calmly replied and you were about to start giving him a piece of your mind when he just took your hand and kissed it to shut you up. It worked.

“Stop it…” you grumbled, returning your attention towards Jack that was watching the scene without any clue on how to react.

You exhaled, frustrated.

“What do you need help with?”

“Umm…I need a place to stay…”

“Runaway? Bad home?” the interview kept on going and he felt uncomfortable. “I can always tell anyway, no need to confirm,” you cut it short. “You don’t talk too much, do you?”

He really didn’t back in the day.

“I’ll help you as soon as I can verify your story,” you signaled him to get out. “Can’t afford any spies around.”

“I’m not a spy…”

“Said no spy ever,” you sarcastically smirked.

Jack didn’t say anything more before exiting the room.

“What do you think?” you addressed Kai and he leaned over to kiss you.

“I’ll have someone check, babe,” and was already reaching for his cell when you stopped him.

“First give me back my cigarettes!”

“Nope,” and he dialed the numbers while you got pissed. “You’re fired!”

“You can’t fire your boyfriend,” Kai winked and you kicked his leg, annoyed.

“Never say that laud, you know the rule!!!”

“I’m sorry, Mother, don’t get mad,” he mocked and you really wished you could have fired him but you loved that man too much anyway.

****************

Jack wasn’t a spy; far from it. His background check brought up a bunch of unfortunate events that ending up with him requesting your help. Who else but Mother would have cared about somebody like him? He was actually a bright one, just stubborn and defensive: typical for those having it tough at early ages.

He mostly ran errands and commissions, being quite trustworthy as a courier to your own surprise. Jack also got a place to leave at one of your shelters, away from the past he was trying to escape.

The first encounter with the brutal reality of what it meant to be the Mother of Gotham occurred about after 5 months you took him in. He happened to be there when your crew was able to recover some young girls that disappeared without a trace. They never made it back to the orphanage you placed them at after school. But you didn’t let that slide: you never turned a blind eye to such things.

When your people opened the back of the truck and you saw them, your heart stopped: they looked beaten up and scared to death, clinging to each other like it was the last thing they will ever do. After a few seconds they realized it was you.

“M-Mother?…” one timidly uttered, not believing you were real.

You opened your arms, waiting and then another girl cried out:

“It’s Mother!”

“Mother!” they got the courage to move and jumped out of the vehicle, rushing in your arms while you tried to comfort them: seven girls between the ages of 14 and 16, finally finding some reassurance after being through hell.

“My poor children,” you kept on whispering, distressed, attempting to reach and embrace all of them. “What happened to you?”

A few began to sob and some averted their gaze, whimpering and you just knew.

“Goddamned assholes,” you gasped for air, staring at the grey skies.

“Mother,” Kai approached to report and you signaled your men to take the orphans to the SUVs parked on the side of the road. They were desperate to stay close to you but you convinced them to obey. “They were planning to move them on the West Coast tomorrow morning; great market for the young ones there. We managed to catch a few of them,” he briefed you, showing you the armed van a few steps away.

You stomped and opened the heavy doors yourself, glaring at the men inside, all tight up with gags in their mouth.

“You like innocent young girls, hm? You think because they have nobody you can do what you please with them? In case you didn’t know, they are not alone: they do have a Mother !!!!” you yelled, rabid and panting with indignation. “Grenade!” you requested one from the men close to you. He handed you a hand grenade and you were fast to pull the pin and toss it inside, quickly sealing the door. The detonation was quiet, the armed truck containing the blast. Blood started dripping from inside and you just barked at the goons:

“Make sure this disappears!”

*************

One night you were traveling between hideouts without escorting cars; so rare for you to do that but you were in a big hurry. Kai was driving and he noticed you were being followed.

“We have several tails,” he accelerated and you called your men for an emergency intervention.

“We are being followed: deploy a convoy right away. I’m on Mulberry Hill, heading west! Hurry up!!” You barely finished when two cars coming from the opposite direction slammed into your van, then the ones behind crashed your vehicle, forcing it off the cliff. Everything happened so fast you didn’t have time to say a word; Kai died on impact and you almost lost your life also, but your people found you in time. You didn’t wake up for a week: you had five broken ribs, a punctured lung, several fractures, bruises and cuts on your entire body.

Your crew turned one of the hideouts in a clinic since you couldn’t be taken to a regular hospital. While unconscious, so many came to see you, worried about your health: hundreds of souls you helped and still helping, aware that if you were gone, there was nobody left to fight for them. Not in the way you did anyway.

Jack has seen nothing like it before, finding himself admiring and envying the respect you were given.

Your most trusted men and women were there when you called upon them after you woke up. Jack and some young ones were summoned by the crew also, awaiting orders. You were in such a bad shape you could barely speak.

“Kai…is…is…dead…” and you started crying, heartbroken at the news you had found out upon your awakening. “And they couldn’t…” and you gulped, heartbroken, “…save my baby…”

“Mother…” Richard took your hand, holding it and you didn’t even feel it. The others were silent, grieving your loss too. Jack had no idea you were pregnant, just a few closer to you aware of the secret.

“I can’t have children … anymore…” you continued to mumble, “…but I’m not childless…I…have so, so many children…Every single one I help…is my child…” and the doctor injected your sleeping medication because you were in so much physical and mental pain. Your eyelids got heavy and Elsie encouraged the team to get out and let you rest. Jack lingered behind for a little bit, gazing at the broken Mother. He didn’t know why, but he remained by your side, planting a soft kiss on your swollen lips and whispered before heading out: “Try not to die you horrible woman.”

*************** It took a few months for you to recover but you weren’t able to do anything afterwards.You locked yourself up in one bedroom at your penthouse and refused to see any faces. You couldn’t get over your despair of losing the man you loved and your baby. From time to time you would open the door and asked for food or cigarettes, your bodyguards noticing a lot of Kai’s clothes scattered around and baby garments you would hold to your chest. You were in such bad shape they were seriously concerned about your wellbeing.

“Bring me a pack,” you would ask, rubbing your red eyes. “He can’t tell me I can’t smoke,” and you would close the door, bursting into tears and cry yourself to sleep.

So many needed help and you didn’t care. Your crew tried their best yet Mother was desperately wanted back.

** “Mother,” your henchmen would knock at the door. “Some of the young ones left: Jack, Kailey, Brian and Lara. They said they are getting out of town. We need new couriers; who should we hire?”

“I don’t give a shit! You can all go to hell!” you would hiss and they had to make it work the best way they could.

** “Mother, young girls and boys are missing from District 7! We got a trace, do we have green light to move?”

“I fucking don’t care!!!” you would shout, pissed they bothered you.

** “Mother, Mister Bruce Wayne is here!” someone would announce.

“He can go to hell too!!” you yelled and he heard since he was a few steps away. You liked to use the orphanages under his patronage to place your children in, they were the safest. Under the radar, of course, not too many knew about your connection.

“I’m so sorry sir,” your people would apologize, “She’s…not feeling well.”

“That’s fine,” he nodded in acceptance, aware of what’s going on with you. “I’ll be back.”

** “Mother, Taysha is here, she needs help.”

“Don’t care!!!!”

But the 10 year old started whaling at the door, pounding with her little fists against the heavy oak door.

“Mother!!! Mother, please!!!! My sister is missing, I didn’t see her in a week!!! Please, Mother, help me!”

There was no response and they tried to take her away while she was screaming and fighting them.

“Mother!!! Mother!!!!” the little girl didn’t give up and you finally cracked the door, telling them to let her go.

“Where was she last seen?”

***************

You slowly went back to what you were doing since you had no choice: no one else willing to take your place or aid those that nobody cared about. A few years went by and one night you were watching the news, when something got your attention: they were talking about The Joker, a criminal emerging from out of nowhere, accused of several acts of violence, arson, blackmail and robbery.

“Hm…” you tilted your head, deep in thought. “Kind of looks familiar…” and you held your pillow tighter, debating. “Oh my God!!!” it clicked. “It’s Jack in the Box! Honey, it’s Jack in the Box!” you turned towards Kai’s side of the bed, smiling. From time to time you placed his favorite suit by you, pretending he’s still alive and talked to him. “Remember the kid with long hair and blue eyes running errands for us? He looks sooo different but it’s him! You know I never forget a face!” You were pleased with the revelation and hoped you can twist it in your favor. You caressed the tiny yellow onesie on your tummy, a small token of your lost baby that you couldn’t part with:

“I wonder what happened to him…”

***************

Your first encounter was at a strip club where you infiltrated as a dancer, your sources telling you The Joker would be there that week. He showed up one night and was heading towards the VIP room for a meeting when one of the girls lined up for the customers got his attention. You gazed at each other for a few moments and he just knew: that was Mother standing there, playing with her pink, neon hair while giving him a small wink. You looked so different but he never forgets a face.

“I want a private dance first,” he sneered, halting in front of the dancers, pointing his cane towards you. The young girl besides you froze: no older than maybe 15, hardly holding in her anxiety: he didn’t seem friendly to say the least. Not that any of them ever did.

“Don’t worry, it’s not for you,” you talked loud enough for her to hear you over the blasting music and she swallowed the lump in her throat, relieved.

“I want her in the Gold Room,” The Joker made his request known and he got what he wished for.

“Of course, Mister J,” they obliged and you followed the green haired man in the private room, parting the colorful beads as he sat down on the chair in the middle, waiting.

You kept a fake grin on your face, not breaking eye contact while kicked his legs opened to get in between and started to dance for him.

“Hello, Mother,” J growled under his breath, enjoying the show nevertheless.

“Well if it’s not my favorite son, alive and breathing,” you grabbed his hands and slid them down your hips.

“I was never your favorite,” he sighted, annoyed.

“True,” you admitted, sitting in his lap. “Don’t blow up my cover; they have 2 cameras in here,” you pulled on his bottom lip, making it all seem normal since they were watching for sure.

“I will have to kill you since you know too much about me,” he yanked at your waist and there was such darkness in those eyes he probably meant it.

“Not if I kill you first,” you replied with such determination you probably meant it.

“Mister J, are you well taken care of?” one of the club owners peeked inside and you quickly squeezed J’s cheeks together, kissing his puckered lips.

“Yeah, I am. Get out so I can enjoy my dance!!!” he angrily threw his cane towards the man, making him apologize and back out in a frenzy.

“They brought in a shipment two days ago, the youngest girl 13 and the youngest boy 14. I came in so I can confirm for my team standing by for my signal. This time we have FBI coming in the next 30 minutes. Anonymous tip, of course, “ you stroke his pale forehead, playing your part. “Don’t go to your meeting, just leave after I’m done.”

“Why are you telling me this?” he sucked on his silver teeth, debating.

“Because I believe we can help each other. You know who I am and what I’m capable of. And you have connections I might have to add to my list. I don’t give a damn about what you do as long as it serves my needs. OK?”

“I’ll think about it…” The Joker slapped your butt and stuck a few hundred bills in your lacy thong when you got up and bent over in front of him:

“Don’t push it!” you grouchily admonished.

“You told me not to blow your cover. Make up your mind!”

*****************

“Are you better now?” J hands you over a glass full of whiskey and you close your eyes as a yes, sipping from your drink and watch the flames burning in the fireplace. You wanted to go to his penthouse after tonight’s incident and finally feel warm; you were so cold for so many hours.

“If you catch pneumonia and die, can I inherit your fortune?” J huffs, piling up a bunch of blankets and furs in front of the fireplace.

“No,” you snicker, crawling over on the made up bed, exhausted.

“Humor me: if you die, what am I supposed to engrave on your headstone? I need a name.”

“Mother is fine,” The Joker gets his elusive reply.

“You give me no choice: I have to kill you for talking to me like this!”

“Not if I kill you first!” you gesture for him to join you and he complies.

You snuggle to him and he’s silent before reprising his usual comeback:

“One of these days we’ll have to have sex so we can get it out of our system.”

“I don’t think so,” you roll your eyes and cover his mouth. He takes it and kisses it, purring.

“You borrowed one of my t-shirts and boxers tonight, I need payment.” “Ughhh, I liked you better back in the day when you didn’t talk too much,” you elbow him and turn away, getting comfortable.

“Hey, what about a quickie?”

“No,” you chuckle and he hugs you from behind, upset:

“How dare you ??!! I really have to kill you now!”

“Just try,” you yawn, “ keeping his hand captive, “ I’m telling your girlfriend you’re hitting on me”.

“Don’t start anything ! Women always side to get a guy in trouble,” he sniffles, outraged. 

You probably would tell her.

“Then let me sleep and she won’t hear a peep out of me.”

“Fine, you teasing cougar!”  

You burst out laughing, amused.

“Wooow, nobody ever called me that, at least not to my face,” you keep on laughing, repositioning yourself in his arms while he smells your hair, irritated.

The Joker doesn’t have a past: nobody knows who he is or where he came from. But he has a Mother and she is the only one to keep his secrets. Even if she is a mystery herself, The King of Gotham wouldn’t trust anybody else because a long time ago Mother proved him wrong when he thought nobody cared.

Also read: MASTERLIST

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