#and sometimes you just have fun and a good laugh

[strwberri-milk]

Hi 🥹 Could make a request for how the LAD men would react if reader was being melodramatic on purpose about something small he did or said, like “why do you hate me 😔” but isn’t actually annoyed/hurt by it? And just wants to be pouty and hurt to see how serious they’d take it and how they’d respond?

Zayne/Xavier/and Sylus aren't super fun to do this with only because he won't always feed into it. He's not mad or upset or anything - he just doesn't play along. Whenever you start declaring that he hates you he just laughs softly and grabs you by the waist. His lips press a long, sensual kiss against yours. He loves stealing your breath away and making you stop playing these silly games.

If he's feeling more playful then he'll let you go on a rant about how much he hates you. He just listens as though he's truly considering your words. Zayne and Sylus are sassy enough to add or refute some of your points which just makes you even more pouty which he doesn't mind.

Xavier will sometimes reach a point and just ask if you really think he hates you in early relationship. When you two are more settled in the relationship he'll also just nod at you and tell you yes, he hates you a lot and that's why he does x, y, z (all things that are good, of course) for you. He just kills you with kindness and you start feeling bad for bullying him.

You and Rafayel take turns being extremely dramatic. Some days he hates you other days you hate him. Whenever you tell him that he hates you he'll either agree and start listing off things he does that confirm he hates you (and they're always things like kiss you, buy you pretty things etc. etc.). That, or he'll start "begging" for your forgiveness, throwing himself at you and telling you that he swears he doesn't and he loves you with all his heart. You two have a good time together, and he doesn't mind playing along with your antics.

[writingwithgeoffrey]

It was another day like any other. Work at a fox sanctuary wasn’t glamorous, with its moments of both unbounded joy and stifling disgust, though it all averaged out to be pretty fun, regardless.

Sure, it may not have been caring for dragons, but you had shied away from that profession ever since you were a child. Growing dragon tails or horns was cool, but you couldn’t ever imagine having to retailor all of your outfits because of it.

It also wasn’t caring for selkies, or unicorns, or even the odd chupacabra, if those could be considered magical. You’d always laughed at the fact that a goat-sucker did all of its goat sucking through magic, imagining it using telekinesis to snatch goats away in the middle of the night.

No, the fox farm was the place for you. They were fluffy and cute, and with a bit of incentive could even be trained a teeny bit. It was nice and quiet, except for when the foxes weren’t nice and quiet, but those days were few and far in between. It was as if the foxes at the sanctuary knew you were trying to nurse them back to health.

“Morning, Jen,” you said as you entered the front office.

“Hey, good to see ya.” She straightened up in her seat behind the desk. “Little Riley’s been waiting for you.”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes as you picked up your badge. “Please. Riley waits for her food. I just so happen to be the one bringing the food.”

You would never admit to your coworkers that you looked forward to working with Riley, too. One of the more well-mannered foxes, she had been found injured on the side of the road after defending her kits from a predator. With no kits in sight, she’d been taken in with the goal of getting her well enough to rejoin the wild population. You had a feeling that would never happen. After all, what wild animal would give up the guarantee of food and shelter?

“Well, see you for lunch, yeah?”

You waved farewell to your coworker as you headed into the sanctuary itself. It wasn’t much, a fenced in area that did well to keep the foxes in and the hawks out. There was always a handler on at all times, but during the day, there were enough to parse out the foxes evenly.

You took a quick glance at your coworkers as you headed for the feed bins. Some of them had transferred from other professions, and you could see it in their bodies. One had literal bronze wings from when they’d cared for those pesky Stymphalian birds from Greek. Another had two wolf heads sprouting out from beside her own, the result of running a hellhound nursery for a few years. Each one always made you wonder why they’d left their old jobs behind.

You got what you needed from the feed bins, and almost immediately, Riley was right beside you. She sat in front of you, staring up with her bright amber eyes. In the light of the sunrise, her eyes almost seemed to flash golden. Her fur was a lovely russet orange, perhaps the truest, most vibrant fur you’d ever seen on a red fox.

As she waited for you to offer a treat for her sitting, her tail wagged like she wasn’t a wild animal.

“Yeah, don’t worry, Riley. I got you.” You knelt to her level and scratched beneath her chin. “Here.”

You pulled a treat from her pocket, then dropped her breakfast in one of the bowls beside the bin. It was a nice, healthy mix of eggs, berries, and a couple of small crawfish.

“Enjoy.”

You didn’t leave Riley’s side as she ate, however. After losing her kits, Riley had been scared to eat by herself. So, you knelt there beside her, running your hand down her back and through her fur. Sometimes you scratched between her ears, other times you let her curl her tail around her hand. She was adorable, and it hurt to think that she’d lost her children, especially when she seemed so carefree now.

“Don’t worry, Riley. You’re safe here.”

When she finished eating, you stood up. One of your coworkers came over before you could take Riley elsewhere, though.

“Hey, what’s up?” you asked. They had a somewhat concerned, somewhat bewildered expression on their face. “You okay?”

“Um …” They pointed behind you.

You turned, caught a glimpse of something vibrant auburn swishing behind you, and panicked, thinking it was another fox coming for Riley. You spun, but the auburn remained just at the edges of your vision.

When you finally managed to reach out and take hold, you felt your own grip. “What the—”

You tugged and felt the tug on your own skin. You pulled it more gently, bringing the fluffy tail into view. That was when you realized it was attached to you. “What the hell?”

You looked first at your coworker, then at Riley. Riley sat there, squinting with her tongue stuck out, tail wagging in the sunrise. It was the shadow, however, that revealed eight more shadows than should’ve been there.

Recognition dawned in your eyes, and with a breath that was equal parts defeated and proud, you muttered, “God damn it, Riley.”

Some magical creatures are so powerful that working for them or having a close relationship causes one to gain traits of that creature over time. You were not aware of this until one day you notice strange changes to your body.

[the-winter-spider]

Yours, Always | Part Nineteen

Steve x reader, Bucky x reader AU

Word Count: 6.7k

Warnings: angst, violence, mentions of su!cide

A/N: OOOOOOOOOOOOO

Masterpost

---

The city buzzed around them, a steady hum of car horns and distant chatter, but inside the little café on the corner, it was quiet enough for a decent conversation. Sam took a slow sip of his iced tea, watching as Steve stirred his coffee absentmindedly, barely taking a sip.

“You good, man?” Sam asked, raising an eyebrow.

Steve blinked, like he was shaking himself out of a daze, and nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, just, long day.”

Sam smirked. “Tell me about it. My morning was filled with paperwork and a dude who thinks ‘emotional support alligator’ is a legitimate request for housing accommodations.”

Steve huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. “Bet that one was fun.”

“Oh, the best,” Sam said, grinning before grabbing a fry off his plate. “Anyway, my sister’s been on my ass about coming down to Louisiana soon. Says I don’t visit enough.” He gestured with the fry. “You should bring Lily and Y/N down sometime take her out on the boat. I’ll even let Lily think she might see a mermaid.”

Steve smiled at that, a real, genuine smile. “Oh, she’d love that.” He shook his head slightly, amused. “But only if she actually sees one. Kid’s getting too smart for the whole imagination thing.”

Sam set his drink down and leaned back slightly. “What about Y/N? She wouldn’t be into it?”

Steve’s fingers tightened slightly around his coffee cup. He hesitated, then exhaled, shaking his head. “I don’t know, man.”

Sam frowned. “What do you mean?”

Another pause. A longer one.

Steve sighed, rubbing the back of his neck before finally admitting, “Things have been tense.”

Sam didn’t say anything. He just let him talk.

Steve hesitated, then leaned forward slightly, voice quieter. “Back home, before I left, we had a fight. A big one.” He swallowed, rolling his shoulders, like the weight of it was still there. “I told her I wouldn’t move back there, their hometown. She told me she wanted to. It just… spiraled from there.”

Sam nodded slowly. “And Bucky?”

Steve huffed out a breath. “You already know.”

Sam just watched him for a moment. “So what now?”

Steve hesitated. His jaw clenched. His gaze flickered down to his coffee, to his hands wrapped around it, to anything but Sam’s knowing stare.

“I think I’m losing her, man,” Steve admitted, his voice quieter now, rawer. “And… I think I’m ready to let her go.”

The words hung between them, heavy, undeniable.

Sam leaned forward, his voice softer now. “Are you sure?”

Steve let out a slow breath, his fingers drumming against the table. “I love her. I do. But I think I’ve been holding onto something that was never really mine to begin with.”

Sam studied him for a long moment before nodding. “That’s a hard thing to admit, man.”

Steve sighed. “Yeah.”

For a while, they just sat there, the weight of the confession settling in.

And then Sam picked up another fry, pointed it at Steve, and said, “So when I take Lily on that boat, you're telling me I gotta convince a whole mermaid to show up, or what?”

Steve let out a breath of laughter, shaking his head. “At least a tail. You got your work cut out for you, Sam.”

---

Wanda watched as you walked back toward Steve, your posture tense, your expression carefully neutral. She knew that look. The one you wore when you were trying to swallow something down, bury it deep enough that no one could see the way it cut you.

She turned sharply, glaring at Clint. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

Clint shrugged, arms crossed over his chest. “What?”

“You know what,” she shot back. “Why are you such an asshole to her? Every time you see her, you—” She exhaled sharply, shaking her head. “I just don’t get it. What did she ever do to you?”

Clint scoffed, looking away. “I just don’t like her.”

Wanda narrowed her eyes. “Why?”

“Because.”

“Because why?”

Clint’s jaw clenched. He wasn’t answering her.

Wanda stepped closer, her voice dropping to something softer, but firm. “Because she makes Steve happy? Because she’s wonderful with Lily? Because she’s kind, and patient, and doesn’t deserve the way you treat her?”

Clint exhaled through his nose, his fingers tapping against his bicep impatiently. He wasn’t looking at her.

“Y’know,” he said finally, his voice tight, “Steve wants to propose to her.”

Wanda stilled.

Her breath caught in her throat, her heart skipping a beat. “What?”

Clint nodded, his lips pressing together. “Yeah. He’s been sitting on the damn ring for months. Waiting for the right time.” His voice turned sharp, bitter. “So there you go. You’ll never get your chance. First, you let Nat take it, and now her.”

Silence.

Wanda inhaled deeply, willing her pulse to slow, to steady.

When she finally spoke, her voice was quiet but sure. “You’re an asshole.”

Clint didn’t react.

“No one took anything from me,” she continued. “It wasn’t mine to have. If it was meant to be, it would be.”

Clint scoffed, rolling his eyes. “There you go again with that fate shit.”

Wanda shook her head. “No, Clint. That’s just reality.”

For a moment, they just stared at each other.

Then Wanda sighed, her expression softening just slightly but only slightly. “You know Natasha would’ve been so disappointed in how you’re acting.”

That one hit its mark.

Clint’s jaw tightened. His gaze flickered, something guarded flashing in his eyes.

But he didn’t say a word.

He just turned and walked away.

---

Like clockwork, Bucky calls every night.

Sometimes, you call him first, but most nights, it’s the other way around. His name flashes across your screen just as you’re settling into bed, the apartment quiet except for the faint hum of the city outside. You answer every time. You don’t even hesitate.

It feels effortless, the way you fall into conversation, like all those years apart never happened. Like there isn’t an ocean of unspoken things between you.

Some nights, you talk for hours.

Bucky tells you about the land, the house, the way Sam has been giving him endless shit about his lack of interior design skills. “He says I have the aesthetic of a gas station parking lot,” Bucky grumbles one night, and you laugh so hard you nearly drop your phone.

“I mean,” you tease, biting your lip. “He’s not entirely wrong, Buck.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Bucky groans, but you can hear the smile in his voice.

You tell him about the city, about Lily, about the new book you picked up, the latest movie you watched. Everything except Steve. Everything except what actually matters.

Neither of you bring it up.

The truck. The love confession. The way he looked at you that night, like you hung the damn stars.

Maybe it’s because you’re both too afraid. Maybe it’s because if you say it out loud, it’ll make things too real.

So, instead, you let it hang there, an unspoken thing between you, simmering beneath the surface.

Some nights, there are silences that stretch too long, where the weight of what you’re not saying fills the space between words.

You wonder if Bucky hears your heart pounding through the phone.

You wonder if he lies awake after you hang up, staring at the ceiling, wondering how the hell you got here.

One night, as you’re lying on your side, the glow of the bedside lamp casting soft shadows across the room, Bucky exhales through the phone.

“I’ll be in the city soon.”

Your stomach flips. Your fingers tighten around the blanket. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he says. His voice is quieter now, softer, like he’s feeling something he’s not ready to name. “I’ll let you know when I figure out the exact date.”

You swallow, your throat tight. “Please do.”

For a moment, neither of you say anything.

You think about the last time you saw him, the way his hands felt on you, the way he whispered your name like it meant something.

You think about Steve, the way his voice wavered when he told you he loved you, the hesitation before you didn’t say it back.

You think about everything and nothing, and it all feels too heavy.

So, you clear your throat, forcing yourself to keep it light. “You, uh…you gonna let me help decorate this place, or are you actually going with the gas station parking lot vibe?”

Bucky snorts. “You can help. As long as you don’t pick any weird stuff.”

You gasp dramatically. “Weird stuff? I have impeccable taste, Buck.”

“Yeah I know.” He hums. “You still into those pink doors?”

Your chest tightens. You close your eyes. “Always.”

There’s a beat of silence.

Softly, Bucky says, “Yeah. Thought so.”

And just like that, the conversation shifts again.

You talk about something else, anything else, and eventually, the call ends, leaving you staring at the ceiling, phone pressed against your chest, wondering what the hell you’re supposed to do with all of this.

The morning is quiet. The kind of soft, hazy quiet that lingers in the air before the city fully wakes up.

You’re in the kitchen, pouring yourself a cup of coffee, still shaking off the last remnants of sleep. The apartment is cool, the faint scent of rain drifting in through the open window. It’s peaceful. Almost normal. Almost.

Steve clears his throat. “Oh, by the way, I invited Sam and Bucky to the party.”

Your hand falters, the coffee pot hovering just above your mug. For a second, you think you misheard him.

“Sam?” you echo, your voice carefully even, measured.

“Yeah.” Steve shrugs, stirring a packet of sugar into his own cup. “We’ve run into each other a couple of times. Figured I’d invite them both.”

You stare at him, your fingers tightening around the handle of your mug. He says it so casually, like it’s nothing, like it’s just another thing to add to the list of party details, balloons, beer, food, oh, and Bucky.

You don’t know what to say.

You don’t know how to say anything.

The weight of what happened in that truck, of the words Bucky spilled into the night air, of the way he looked at you presses against your ribs.

Steve invited him.

Steve, who had spent the last few days holding you at arm’s length, careful, careful, like he knew something was slipping through his fingers but was too afraid to grasp it too hard.

Steve, who hasn’t brought up the fight. Hasn’t brought up Bucky. Hasn’t asked you where your heart has been these last few weeks, maybe these last few years, maybe your whole god damn life.

Steve, who has always known you better than you know yourself.

You swallow. Force a small nod. “I’m glad you have another friend.”

It’s a deflection. A quiet, meaningless response. But it’s all you can manage.

Steve looks up at you then, his blue eyes unreadable, a small, almost knowing smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Me too.”

The moment passes. You sip your coffee. He finishes his. The city hums outside, alive and oblivious to the storm brewing beneath your skin.

The countdown to the party begins.

---

Bucky had been here for two years.

Two years of filth and damp walls and the stench of unwashed bodies. Two years of bruises that never fully healed before new ones bloomed over them. Two years of endless questions, fists against flesh, the sharp bite of metal against skin.

Two years of nothing.

No light. No seasons. No way to mark time except by the way his body wasted away, by the way his mind started to slip, pieces of himself breaking off and drifting somewhere beyond his reach.

They had forgotten him. He’d known it for a while now. There was no rescue coming. No cavalry.

And it wasn’t like they were wrong to forget him. He was dead to them. The military had to have already folded his file away, marked his unit as MIA presumed KIA.

His mother had grieved him. You had grieved him.

His stomach twisted.

You.

You had probably moved on.

He hoped you had moved on.

He hoped you’d found someone who made you laugh, someone who held your hand when you walked down the street. Someone who touched you gently, reverently, like you deserved.

And if you had?

Then there was nothing left for him here.

Nothing left at all. He never got the chance he wanted with you and he knew it was his own damn fault and he hated himself for it.

Bucky lay on the cold, hard ground of his cell, staring up at the cracked ceiling. His fingers curled around the blade he’d found. Just a jagged piece of metal, rusted at the edges, but it would do the job.

It wouldn’t be hard.

One sharp swipe, one deep cut…It would be over.

His breathing was slow, measured, controlled and then he turned his head slightly, pressing his temple against the stone wall separating his cell from Sam’s.

“Wilson,” he rasped. His voice was barely more than a whisper, but Sam stirred anyway.

“Buck?”

Bucky swallowed.

He let himself say something that wasn’t just about survival. “You’re a good friend.”

Silence.

Carefully Sam spoke, “Alright, what the fuck was that?”

Bucky let out a soft, humorless laugh. He closed his eyes. “I just… I’m glad I met you.”

Sam was fully awake now, shifting against the wall. Bucky could hear him, could picture him pressing closer to the stone like he could reach him.

“Barnes,” Sam’s voice was sharper now, urgent. “No. You don’t get to do this, man.”

Bucky’s grip tightened on the blade. His other hand lifted, fingers pressing against the inside of his wrist, mapping out the vein beneath his skin.

One cut.

That’s all it would take.

“Bucky, stop,” Sam pleaded. “You hear me? Stop.”

Bucky exhaled, slow and steady, blade biting into his skin

“Y/N.”

The blade slipped.

Bucky’s body froze.

Sam’s voice came through the wall, softer now, insistent. “She’s waiting for you.”

A sharp, broken breath tore from Bucky’s throat. His chest ached.

“She’s not,” Bucky choked out. “She’s gone, Sam. She moved on.”

“You don’t know that,” Sam shot back. “You think that, but you don’t know that.”

Bucky’s breath was uneven now, shallow and ragged.

Sam pressed his palm flat against the stone wall. “Listen to me, man. If I know anything from all the shit you’ve told me about her, she loves you, Buck. She’s missing her best friend so fucking much. She’s hurting without you.”

Bucky squeezed his eyes shut, fingers trembling where they still gripped the blade.

“She needs you to make it home,” Sam whispered. “So make it home.”

Bucky sobbed.

He dropped the blade. It clattered against the stone floor and Sam just stayed with him, his voice steady, grounding him. “We’re coming home, man,” he promised. “We’re going home.”

Bucky curled into himself, his chest heaving, his body shaking so hard he thought he might break apart completely. “Were going home.”

---

The summer heat was relentless, clinging to Bucky’s skin as he wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his wrist. The sound of the nail gun echoed across the open land, sharp bursts of air punctuating the steady rhythm of construction.

The house was finally starting to take shape. The walls were up, the bones of the place standing strong, and if he squinted, he could almost see it, your dream home. The one he’d build with his own two hands. The one you dreamt about for years.

Sam leaned against one of the wooden beams, surveying the progress with a nod of approval. “Man, I gotta say, I didn’t think you’d get this much done so fast.”

Bucky smirked, setting the nail gun down for a second. “What, think I lost my touch?”

“Nah,” Sam chuckled, grabbing his water bottle. “Just figured you’d be dragging ass by now, but you’ve been on this house like it’s a goddamn mission.”

Bucky didn’t respond, just exhaled, stretching his shoulder. He had been working non-stop, sunrise to sunset, barely stopping to eat, throwing himself into every nail, every board, every fucking detail. Building kept him moving. Kept him from thinking too much.

Soon, the electrician would come in, then the plumber, then the flooring guys. One step closer.

Sam took a sip of his water, shifting on his feet. “Ran into Steve the other day.”

Bucky’s jaw tensed slightly, but he kept his focus on securing another panel. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Sam scratched at his jaw. “He does some damn good work with veterans, you know. Runs programs, gets people the help they need.”

Bucky grunted, kept doing what he was doing.

“His dad and grandpa were both military I guess.” Sam continued.

“He didn’t want to follow in their footsteps?”

“Steve wanted to enlist too, but…” Sam trailed off, watching as Bucky carefully aligned a beam. “Didn’t pass the tests.”

That made Bucky pause. He glanced at Sam. “Health issues?”

Sam nodded. “Yeah. Asthma, some other stuff. Didn’t make the cut. Got healthy later, met the girl of his dreams, had a kid… well, you know the rest.”

Bucky exhaled through his nose, setting another nail in place. He knew. He knew it all too well.

A silence stretched between them, the only sound the rustling of the trees and the distant hum of cicadas. Then Sam shifted again, something hesitant in his voice.

“Steve invited us to his party in a few days.”

Bucky’s hands paused, then he scoffed. “You mean you.”

“No, I mean both of us.”

Bucky turned his head slightly, raising a skeptical brow. “His birthday party?”

“Yeah. It’s on the fourth, so he celebrate’s both,” Sam said, watching Bucky carefully.

Bucky gruffed, turning back to his work. “That’s real nice for him.”

Sam sighed. “Look, man. I know what you’re thinking, and I get it. But listen, Steve’s struggling. She’s pulling away, and he’s trying to navigate all of it without losing his mind, he’s a good man Buck.” He hesitated. “You gotta come for her.”

Bucky’s jaw clenched.

“I know you miss her,” Sam continued. “And she misses you. So just… show up. You don’t gotta stay long. Just be there.”

Bucky exhaled slowly, fingers tightening around the nail gun.

“Of couse, I’ll be there.” he whispered. “Y’know I’d go anywhere for her.”

Sam nodded, grabbing another plank of wood. “Good.”

---

Bucky didn’t want to go.

He really didn’t want to go.

But you had asked, and Bucky would follow you anywhere.

Which is how he ended up here, chasing after you as you dragged him toward whatever harebrained adventure you had set your sights on this time.

“I hate this idea,” Bucky muttered, his sneakers crunching against gravel. “I hate this plan. I hate—”

“Oh, stop being dramatic.” You rolled your eyes, grinning as you pulled him along.

Bucky huffed. “Dramatic is you thinking this is gonna go well.”

You smirked over your shoulder. “Where’s your sense of adventure, Barnes?”

“Dead and buried.”

But still, he went.

Because it was you and he'd follow you anywhere.

He really wished he hadn’t.

One second, everything was fine. The next, Bucky was airborne.

CRACK.

Pain exploded up his arm, a sharp, searing agony that made his vision go white for a second. He hit the ground hard, groaning as he rolled onto his back, the sky spinning above him.

“Bucky!” Your voice was frantic, your hands grabbing at him, touching his face, his shoulders. “Oh my god, are you okay?”

“Never better,” he gritted out, cradling his arm against his chest.

Your eyes flickered down, widening in horror. “Oh my god, oh my god, Buck, your arm—”

Yeah. It was not supposed to look like that.

Tears welled in your eyes, and Bucky swore the pain in his chest from seeing you cry was worse than the pain in his arm. “I—I knew this was a stupid idea. I should’ve—you shouldn’t have—this is my fault, Buck. This is all my fault.”

He groaned, shifting slightly, trying to sit up. “Nah, I’d say gravity’s at fault here.”

You let out a choked laugh that turned into a sob, burying your face in your hands.

Bucky sighed, resting his head back against the ground. “C’mon, don’t cry. You did me a favor.”

Your head snapped up, eyes red-rimmed. “Bucky, you broke your arm.”

He grinned, even though his whole body hurt. “Yeah, and now I don’t have to play football this season.”

Your face crumpled again. “Stop trying to make me feel better. You got hurt because of me, my stupidity. This is my fault.”

Bucky shook his head, voice softer now. “No, beautiful. It’s my fault.”

Your brows furrowed. “What? How?”

His throat bobbed. “Because I’d follow you anywhere.” His eyes locked onto yours, something deeper in them, something you weren’t ready to name. “I’d follow you into the burning gates of hell. I’d follow you if you were to jump off a moving train in Austria.”

Your breath hitched.

Bucky exhaled slowly, blinking up at the sky. “I’m gonna be okay. It’s just a broken arm.”

That only made you cry harder.

His lips twitched, and he nudged you lightly with his good hand. “You wanna make it up to me?”

You sniffled. “Anything, Buck.”

He smirked. “You gotta be the first to sign my cast.”

You blinked at him. “That’s it?”

“And no drawing penises.”

That startled a laugh out of you, watery and shaky but real, and it sent warmth flooding through Bucky’s chest, easing the pain just a little.

“There’s my girl,” he murmured.

You wiped at your cheeks, rolling your eyes. “You’re an idiot, you know that?”

Bucky grinned, wincing as he adjusted his arm. “Yeah. But I’m your idiot. Now help me up, we gotta brainstorm what color I should get while we walk back.”

You carefully slipped an arm around his waist, helping him to his feet. He cradled his broken arm against his chest, hissing through his teeth as the movement sent a sharp pang through his bones.

“Blue,” you said, steadying him.

“Mmm?” Bucky hummed, squinting at you through the pain.

“For your cast. Your eyes.” You glanced up at him, voice quieter now. “Blue.”

Something flickered in his expression, something warm and unreadable.

He smiled. “Okay. Blue.”

It was quiet for a moment, just the sound of your sneakers crunching against the gravel as you walked, his weight pressed slightly against your side.

You groaned. “Winnie’s gonna kill me.”

Bucky snorted, his laughter short but genuine. “Probably.”

You sighed dramatically, already dreading the conversation that awaited you back home. “What do I even say? ‘Hey, sorry I broke your kid, my bad?’”

Bucky chuckled. “Nah, just tell her I finally got my battle scars. Chicks dig scars.”

You rolled your eyes, tightening your grip around his waist. “You are the chick in this scenario, Buck.”

“Damn right I am,” he teased, nudging you lightly with his good shoulder.

Despite the pain, despite the impending wrath of his mother, despite everything he’d still follow you anywhere. .

---

The apartment is buzzing with movement. The scent of fresh flowers and warm vanilla candles fills the air, mingling with the faintest traces of the city outside. You move through the space with careful precision, making sure everything is perfect setting out drinks, fluffing pillows, triple-checking that Steve’s birthday present is wrapped just right.

The dining table was covered in ribbons, wrapping paper, and a mess of tape dispensers, an absolute disaster zone. But in the center of it all, cradled carefully in a velvet-lined box, was Steve’s gift.

His father’s watch. Restored.

You ran your fingers over the polished metal, tracing the familiar curve of the casing. It had taken months to find the right parts, to track down a seller on eBay who had a near-identical mechanism from the same decade. You had nearly lost the final bid, heart pounding as you refreshed the page over and over until the last second. But you won.

And now, after so many years of sitting broken and forgotten in a drawer, it ticked again.

Steve never talked much about his dad, but you knew. You had caught the way his fingers would brush over the old watch whenever he stumbled upon it. The way he’d turn it over in his palm, lost in thought, before tucking it away again, like the weight of it was too much to carry.

But now, he wouldn’t have to tuck it away. Now, it worked.

You gently closed the box and reached for the wrapping paper. Dark blue, with tiny silver stars.

From Lily, the gift is even more personal something you knew would mean the world to him. A portrait, hand-painted, of Natasha and Lily together, side by side, like Natasha had been here all along. You had worked with the artist for weeks, going over every tiny detail, making sure it was perfect. The curls in Lily’s hair, the softness in Natasha’s eyes. When it had finally arrived, you had cried.

You run a gentle hand over the ribbon on the box, exhaling slowly. He’s going to love this.

Just as you’re about to step back and take in everything one last time, your phone rings.

Bucky.

Your stomach flips.

You swipe to answer. “Hey.”

“Hey.” His voice is warm, familiar. The kind of sound that makes your heart ache in a way you don’t want to examine too closely. “I’m in the city.”

You pause, your fingers tightening around the phone. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he says, and there’s something different in his voice, something tentative. “Gonna join the support group today.”

Your breath catches. Your ears perk up because he's doing it, he’s actually going.

“Bucky,” you whisper, “that’s… that’s amazing.”

“Don’t make a big deal out of it.” His voice is gruff, but you can hear the tiniest trace of something softer beneath it. “Just… trying, I guess.”

You press your lips together, trying to keep your emotions in check. “I’m proud of you.”

“I know.”

You blink, swallowing past the sudden lump in your throat.

“I was thinking,” he says, clearing his throat. “You wanna meet me here? We can grab a coffee after or something. Show me that café you always talk about before the party tonight? It’ll uh give me some time to wind down.”

A slow smile tugs at your lips. “I’ll be there in thirty.”

“I’ll be done in forty-five.”

“Then I’ll just have to wait.”

He huffs out a small laugh, and you can hear the smile in it.

“See you soon.”

The call ends, and you stand there for a moment, phone pressed to your chest, heart hammering against your ribs.

---

The night was loud, alive with the crackling energy of fireworks and laughter. The air smelled like cheap beer, barbecue, and summer heat. Someone had rigged up shitty string lights around the backyard, the bulbs flickering unevenly, but it didn’t matter. The entire graduating class was packed into some guy’s house, one of Bucky’s football buddies with music shaking the walls and people spilling onto the lawn.

You were tipsy. Not drunk, but tipsy enough that everything was just a little funnier, a little warmer. Your cheeks ached from smiling, your skin buzzing from the remnants of your last drink.

Bucky was beside you, his hand wrapped loosely around a bottle of beer he’d barely touched, his other hand stuffed into his pocket. You could feel him more than see him, the way he always took up space in a way that never felt overwhelming, just… there.

Some girl from your grade, Heather? Hannah? sidled up to him, laughing a little too loudly at something he hadn’t even said.

“I don’t think we’ve seen you all night, Bucky,” she drawled, twirling a piece of hair around her finger. “Thought maybe you forgot how to have fun.”

Bucky huffed a short laugh, barely sparing her a glance. “Nah, just been busy.”

Her gaze flickered toward you, her lips curling slightly. “Busy, huh?”

You fought the urge to roll your eyes, taking a sip of your drink instead. You were used to this. Girls had been throwing themselves at Bucky for years, but he never really gave them the time of day and yet, they never seemed to get it.

Bucky didn’t respond, just nudged your elbow, like the two of you shared some secret joke. He leaned in, his breath warm against your temple. “You wanna get outta here for a bit?”

You nodded, already slipping your fingers around his wrist, pulling him toward the backyard. You swore you heard Hannah-Heather scoff behind you.

Outside, the sky was a swirl of deep purples and indigos, the air thick with summer humidity. People were scattered across the lawn, sitting on blankets, perched on porch railings, waiting for the fireworks.

You and Bucky found a spot a little farther from the crowd, away from the noise. The grass was cool beneath you as you flopped down, lying flat on your back. Bucky sat beside you, one knee bent, his arm slung lazily over it.

The first firework exploded overhead, brilliant and loud, the colors streaking across the sky in sharp, fleeting bursts.

You sighed, stretching your arms above your head. “God, I love this.”

Bucky hummed. “Yeah?”

You turned to him, grinning. “Yeah.”

But he wasn’t looking at the sky. “Me too.”

He was looking at you.

His expression was unreadable, something soft and achingly familiar flickering behind his eyes.

“You’re missing the show, Buck.”

He smirked, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Nah,” he murmured. “Not missing a thing.”

You swallowed. Your heart stuttered against your ribs.

The fireworks kept exploding, painting the night in reds, blues, golds. But Bucky never looked away.

---

You don’t mean to overhear.

But when you arrive at the building, an unassuming community center tucked between a laundromat and a bakery you hesitate. Through the open door of the meeting room, you hear his voice and the way he says your name stops you cold.

So you stay. You stand just out of sight, heart hammering in your chest, and you listen.

Bucky shifts in his chair, hands clasped together so tightly that his knuckles turn white. He’s barely spoken all session, just sat there while the others talked, his knee bouncing, his jaw clenched. But now, he exhales shakily and lifts his head.

“There’s this girl,” he says, his voice low, hoarse, like it physically pains him to say it out loud. “She wants me to get help.”

A couple of the other vets nod, encouraging, but they don’t interrupt.

“And I want to get better for her, for me” he admits, running a hand through his hair, shaking his head. “But in order to do that, I’m supposed to talk about it.”

He lets out a humorless laugh, shaking his head. “So, yeah. Here I am. Talking about it.”

Silence.

���I remember the night I almost did it.”

A shift in the room. Everyone knows what it means.

“I’d been in that fucking hole for years. No light, no sound except for the guards when they came in, except for the screams from the others.” He swallows hard, rubs at his chest like it aches. “I don’t even know how long we’d been there. Time didn’t exist in that place. All I know is that one night, I couldn’t take it anymore. I thought, if I just do it, it’ll finally be over.”

His voice cracks.

He clears his throat, fists clenching against his jeans. “I was ready. I had it planned. I was going to—” He stops himself, exhales hard through his nose. “But then Sam—”

His lips press together. His throat bobs.

“All Sam had to do was say her name.”

Your breath catches in your throat.

“He said her name,” Bucky continues, his voice barely above a whisper now. “That was all it took. Just… her name.” He lets out a shaky breath. “And suddenly, I couldn’t do it.”

The room is silent. No one breathes.

“I’d spent so long convincing myself I was already dead, but then he said her name, and I realized, I wasn’t dead. Not yet.”

He drags a hand down his face, letting out a shuddering breath.

“I told myself if I made it out, I’d tell her.” He shakes his head, lets out a quiet laugh. “I’d tell her that she was the reason I was still breathing.”

A long pause.

“I never told her.”

A voice from across the room, careful, hesitant. “Do you still talk to her?”

Bucky swallows. “Yeah.”

Another pause.

“Does she know?”

Bucky stares at his hands, the tendons taut, the veins beneath his skin stark against his knuckles.

“No,” he whispers. And then, quieter, so quiet you barely hear it, a confession meant for no one. “And I don’t even have her.”

A hollow laugh, sharp and self-deprecating. “I made it out and I still don’t have her.”

Your chest tightens, breath catching in your throat. You turn away, walking fast away from the door back towards where you entered.

You’re still standing in the hallway when the meeting ends.

Your stomach is in knots, your hands trembling at your sides. You don’t even know what you’d say if you walked in there right now, if you had to look at him.

---

The distant sound of fireworks crackled somewhere beyond your dorm room window, muffled by the thick summer air. You didn’t turn to look. Didn’t care to watch the way the sky lit up in bursts of color, didn’t care to hear the excited shouts of people celebrating in the streets below.

Instead, you sat cross-legged on your bed, the dim glow of your bedside lamp casting soft, golden light across the room.

In your hands, a letter.

The envelope was slightly crumpled at the edges, the ink of your name smudged just a little. You had run your fingers over it too many times, tracing the loops and curves of his handwriting.

You swallowed, exhaling sharply through your nose. Then, with slightly trembling fingers, you tore the top of the envelope, carefully pulling out the folded pages inside.

His handwriting was the same as always, quick, slightly messy, but undeniably him.

You took a deep breath and began to read.

Y/N,

Happy Fourth of July.

I don’t even know what day it is where I am, but I know it’s today for you. I hope it is, I used my barely there math skills to try and time this letter for you. I know if I was home, we’d be doing something stupid right now. Probably sneaking beers from the fridge, watching the fireworks from the field, you rambling about how pretty they are while I pretend to care but really just care about you.

Instead, I’m here.

We didn’t do much today, just some downtime with the unit. Sam swears up and down he can grill, but I wouldn’t let him near the food. We all sat around, ate, laughed, just tried to feel normal for a little while. It was nice. I needed it.

I needed tonight.

I needed something that felt even a little like home.

I miss it. I miss you. I miss your voice. I miss the way you say my name. I miss the way you call me an idiot when I do something stupid and the way you hug me even when I don’t deserve it.

I miss everything.

I don’t know when this will get to you, but I hope you’re celebrating. Hope you’re watching the fireworks. Hope you’re happy. I wish I could see you. I wish I could talk to you. Just for a second. Just long enough to hear you say my name.

You always told me that watching the fireworks made you feel small in the best way, like we were all just tiny pieces of something bigger. I don’t know if I ever told you, but that’s how I feel about you. Like I’m just a tiny piece of something bigger, something better, because I have you.

Yours Always,

Bucky

Your breath hitched.

You sat there, fingers clutching the letter so tightly the paper nearly crinkled.

For a long time, you didn’t move. Your mind at war, it had been almost a year since he left, you knew you should finally write back so before you had a second thought you reached for your notebook.

You clicked your pen, the tip hovering over the blank page. You started to write.

Then stopped.

Started again.

Stopped again.

The words wouldn’t come.

Not because you didn’t have them. You had too many. Too many things to say, too many things you couldn’t explain.

So, after several long minutes, you let out a slow, shaky breath and then you closed the notebook.

You folded the letter carefully, tucking it back into the envelope.

You decided, you weren’t going to write back, again.

---

The house was alive. The air thick with laughter, music weaving between conversations, the city skyline glowing through the windows. It was the same as it always was, the annual Fourth of July party, Steve’s birthday celebration. A tradition.

Steve was in his element, a drink in hand, effortlessly moving through the crowd, smiling, laughing. Like everything was fine. Like nothing had cracked, like nothing was unraveling right beneath the surface.

Bucky stood near the entryway, a beer dangling from his fingers, his sharp blue eyes scanning the crowd. He was different in this setting, out of place amongst the pressed shirts and city-polished smiles. But then his gaze found yours, and the noise of the party dulled for a moment.

You didn’t have time to cross the room, didn’t have time to get to him before something else cut through the atmosphere like a blade.

“Man, I just don’t get it.”

You turned at the voice.

Clint.

He was nursing a drink, his stance looser than usual, the tension he always carried around you now sharpened into something hateful.

Your brows furrowed. “Clint—”

“No, seriously.” He scoffed, shaking his head, his voice thick with resentment. “You just get everything, don’t you?”

A few heads turned. The air in the room shifted, attention sliding toward the unfolding scene.

Your stomach twisted. “That’s not—”

Clint let out a bitter laugh, his jaw clenching. “You get everything. You get your friend back. You get him.” He gestured vaguely toward Steve, swaying he was far gone. “You get it all.”

Your pulse thrummed in your ears. The weight of eyes on you, the heat of Bucky’s stare burning into the side of your face.

Clint took a step closer, his voice dropping into something quieter, crueler. “Meanwhile, Natasha is gone. I lost my best friend. And you? You just keep winning.”

The words slammed into you. It hurt more than it should have.

Your throat went dry. “That’s not fair.”

Clint laughed again, but this time, it was hollow, empty. “Fair?” His hands tightened around his glass. “Life isn’t fair, hunny. If it was, she’d still be here. But instead—” he gestured around the room, his voice dipping into something venomous. “Instead, you get everything, and she gets nothing.”

The silence in the room was suffocating. Your chest tightened, words caught somewhere between your ribs, stuck.

“That’s enough.”

Bucky’s voice cut through the air like steel.

Clint snorted, shaking his head. “Of course. Here comes the knight in shining armor.”

Bucky clenched his jaw. “I mean it.”

Clint took a step closer. “Or what?”

Bucky’s shoulders squared. “Or you’re gonna want to shut the fuck up before I make you.”

It happened fast. Clint’s fist swung.

Before you even thought about it, before your body even registered the movement, you stepped forward.

Clint’s fist connected with you.

A sharp crack of knuckles against skin.

Everything stopped.

The music, the voices, the movement of the party.

Silence.

The sting spread across your cheek, your head jerking slightly from the impact, the room swaying in a way that made your stomach lurch as the cool liquid ran down from your nose.

[yvesssssssss]

thinking about natsuki, shin and heisuke seeing their cute gf for flirting on

Natsuki, Shin, and Heisuke Seeing Their Cute Girlfriend Get Flirted On

I hope you like it! I had a lot of fun writing this one for you.(⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)

Natsuki Seba

Natsuki never thought of himself as the possessive type. He didn’t get jealous easily. He was cool, laid-back, and not the kind of guy to get worked up over something as trivial as his girlfriend getting attention.

Or so he thought.

That theory got completely shattered the moment he spotted you at a café, waiting in line while some guy struck up a conversation with you. At first, Natsuki didn’t think much of it. You were friendly, always smiling and polite—it was normal for people to talk to you. But then the guy leaned in a little too much, his smile turning just a little too smug.

And you? Completely oblivious.

Natsuki’s eye twitched as he saw you laugh softly at whatever the guy was saying. He wasn’t usually one to eavesdrop, but he caught a snippet of the conversation.

“So, what do you say? Wanna grab coffee together sometime?” the guy asked smoothly.

You blinked up at him, tilting your head. “Huh? But I’m already getting coffee?”

The guy chuckled, mistaking your genuine confusion for playing hard to get. “I mean, another time. You seem really sweet.”

That was it.

Before you could respond, Natsuki strolled up and casually draped an arm over your shoulders, pulling you against his side. His expression was relaxed, but there was a sharp edge to his gaze as he stared at the guy.

“Sorry, dude. She’s got a boyfriend,” Natsuki said flatly.

The guy’s confident expression faltered, and he glanced between you and Natsuki. “Oh. My bad, man.”

With an awkward chuckle, the guy quickly grabbed his order and left. Natsuki sighed, rubbing his temple before turning his attention to you.

“You seriously didn’t notice?” he asked, exasperated.

You looked up at him, wide-eyed. “Notice what?”

Natsuki groaned, shaking his head. “Never mind. Just stay close to me, okay?”

You nodded happily, leaning into him. “Okay~”

Natsuki wasn’t sure if you were truly that oblivious or just messing with him at this point. Either way, he was keeping an arm around you for the rest of the day.

Shin Asakura

Shin had learned early on that hearing other people’s thoughts wasn’t always a blessing. Especially when he was out with you.

He had already sensed trouble when he picked up on some guy internally hyping himself up.

Alright, she’s alone. Just be cool. Say something funny. Compliment her. Girls like that, right?

Shin’s eyes snapped to the guy in question, who had just approached you while you were waiting for your street food order.

“Hey, you come here often?” the guy asked, flashing what he probably thought was a charming smile.

You, being your usual sweet self, smiled politely. “Yeah! The food here is really good.”

The guy grinned, clearly encouraged. “Maybe I could take you somewhere better. Bet I know a few good spots.”

Shin had to hold back a laugh when he heard your genuine thoughts.

Oh, he must be really passionate about food!

You nodded excitedly. “That’s great! Do you have any recommendations?”

The guy leaned in slightly. “How about I take you out sometime and show you?”

“No, thanks,” you said cheerfully.

Shin snorted. He loved that you were so straightforward without even realizing how brutally you shut people down. But the guy wasn’t taking the hint.

“Aw, c’mon,” the guy tried again, “just one—”

Shin had heard enough.

He strolled over and wrapped an arm around your waist, tugging you flush against him. His eyes flickered toward the guy, sharp and unimpressed.

“She already said no,” Shin said coolly. “You got bad hearing or something?”

The guy paled, mumbling something under his breath before quickly retreating. Shin turned his attention back to you, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“You handled that pretty well,” he teased.

You pouted slightly. “I didn’t even realize he was flirting at first…”

Shin chuckled, pressing a quick kiss to your temple. “Yeah, I figured. Guess I’ll just have to keep an eye on you, huh?”

You beamed at him, completely unaware of how much trouble you put him through. But Shin didn’t mind. If it meant keeping guys like that away from you, he’d gladly do it every time.

Heisuke Mashimo

Heisuke was not an intimidating guy. He knew that. His default setting was friendly, and his first instinct in most situations was to laugh things off.

But that didn’t mean he was going to let some random guy hit on you.

He had just won a plushie for you at the arcade, grinning ear to ear as he walked back. But before he could call out to you, he noticed some guy standing way too close, a cocky smirk on his face.

Heisuke slowed his steps, listening in.

“You’re really cute,” the guy was saying, leaning in slightly. “I bet you get told that all the time.”

You blinked, tilting your head. “Oh, uh… yeah?”

“So, what do you say?” The guy smirked. “Wanna ditch your game and go for a drink?”

Heisuke frowned. He wasn’t usually confrontational, but he also wasn’t about to stand there and let this continue.

Plushie still in hand, Heisuke made his way over and slid beside you, his usual cheerful energy radiating as he held up the stuffed animal. “Hey, baby! Look what I won for you!”

You turned to him, immediately lighting up. “Aw! You got it?”

Heisuke grinned, but his eyes flickered briefly to the guy, his expression just a bit sharper than usual. “Yeah! Took me a few tries, but, y’know, all worth it for my girlfriend.”

The guy looked between the two of you, his confidence visibly shrinking. “Oh. You’re… together?”

Heisuke nodded enthusiastically. “Yup! Crazy, right? You’d think she’d go for someone taller, but nope, she picked me.” He laughed, but there was an underlying firmness in his tone that wasn’t usually there.

The guy let out an awkward chuckle and rubbed the back of his neck. “Uh, yeah. My bad, man. Didn’t know.”

“No worries, dude,” Heisuke said with an easygoing shrug. “Happens a lot.”

With that, the guy quickly walked off, and Heisuke turned his attention back to you. “You okay?”

You nodded, hugging the plushie he had given you. “Yeah! I didn’t even realize he was flirting at first.”

Heisuke let out a dramatic sigh, slumping against you. “Why is everyone always flirting with you?”

You giggled. “Because I’m cute?”

Heisuke pouted. “You’re my cute girlfriend. Can’t I get a break?”

You giggled again and leaned up to kiss his cheek. “Don’t worry, Heisuke. I only have eyes for you~”

Heisuke instantly turned pink, covering his face with his hands. “You can’t just say things like that! I have a weak heart!”

You just laughed, taking his hand in yours. “C’mon, let’s go win more prizes.”

Heisuke groaned but followed you, still flustered. He might not be intimidating, but at least he got the point across—you were his, and he was definitely keeping you close for the rest of the night.

[fanged-fanfics]

Can we get PV’s kid!reader and dark choco being best friends but act like siblings!

☆ Company in Cacao Kingdom — Dark Choco & Kid!Reader HCs ☆

Genre: Fluff, Platonic || they/them pronouns for reader || No warnings needed

──────.𖥔 ݁ ˖˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ──────

ᯓᡣ𐭩 When you first came around, Dark Choco was a little wary. He had been rather young, and didn't have much experience with Cookies outside of the Cacao Kingdom. But with gentle encouragement from his dad, you two began talking

ᯓᡣ𐭩 It didn't take long for you two to become friends. Dark Choco had many fun games to play, and a big wide castle as a playground. Whenever Dark Cacao conversed with Pure Vanilla, you took the opportunity to sneak off on your own adventures

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Dark Cacao expressed worry for you two quite often. Cacao Kingdom wasn't exactly known for being all that safe, but Pure Vanilla reassured that it was good for the both of you to have this time together, especially with how happy it made you

ᯓᡣ𐭩 As he got older, you were by his side every step of the way. He became more jaded, receeding from events you used to love to attend together. And yet, you were the only Cookie he still allowed to be close to him

ᯓᡣ𐭩 No matter how much he tried to hide it, there were always remnants of that young boy you once played with during meetings. He still laughed at your stupid jokes, kept you safe from stray trainees that were too rowdy, and smiled whenever you gave him a big hug. He just needed a little extra support at times

ᯓᡣ𐭩 He'd take long times to rant about what he was feeling. Classic teen angst, really. He wanted to go out and do his own things, but Dark Cacao would try to pull him back from doing something foolish, causing a divide as Choco felt he was being stifled

ᯓᡣ𐭩 You'd always find ways to cheer him up. Somewhere to get time out of the castle, a favorite snack, or sometimes even just the comfort of your presence while he stayed inside for the day. Sometimes, you were the only Cookie he'd allow into his room

ᯓᡣ𐭩 In return, Dark Choco vowed to protect you. When he was younger, he'd often play games of being your devoted knight, being the brave brother to keep you out of danger. He promised even to this day to do the same. Should anything ever seperate you, he'd find his way back to his sibling no matter what

[l0s3rd0wnt0wn]

i can def see voodoo!reader not being herself ever again if she cannot practice her true self. image her losing everything, her sparks and the batfamily reaction??

they will never see that smile again.

they are just a empty shell

I feel like the Batfam will try to mirror her religion as hard as they can, so you can do your ceremonies, pray to your lwa, offer food, and dance for your altar. You’re most likely to wake up early before everyone else to dance for Bondye as the morning sun rises, not just to praise your lord or expel your amulet of darkness, but to avoid Bruce and the others. It's like a game of cat and mouse; you have to escape them at all costs. But soon they figure out your morning dancing, and by the goddesses, now you're dancing for them every early morning, like a little puppet on a string—maybe a wind-up ballerina in a box—except they won't stop winding you up. Bruce will find a new dress for you to wear, the most luxurious one he can find. He knows you dance for Erzulie, so why not wear something expensive to show how much you care? Not because he wants to see a little girl in a dress he picked out for her. Dick, oh god, might just be the worst out of them; he'll brag about you like you're some kind of mythical creature, like you're out of this world. You’re not. He's so invested in your life that he's starting to invade your personal space. He's the reason why you can't dance in the morning anymore. Jason, my god, he's controlling. If you see someone playing on the drums in the Gotham subway and you're feeling the beat, you start dancing. Then a group surrounds you, clapping on beat with the drums. You use your dress as a way to guide your movements. You're having so much fun until you see a tall man in a red hoodie staring at you with those bright green eyes. You drop your dress to your sides and immediately stop moving, saying "sorry" in a soft voice and running over to Jason. If you didn't know any better, he looks like he might shoot up the whole subway. Tim, oh, he's getting bad at hiding his newfound obsession—YOU. He installed cameras all around the manor. If you're cleaning up with Alfred while listening to music, he’ll see you do some freestyle dances. It’s even better when you think no one’s around, so you blast music in your room, but there’s a camera there. He’s laughing as he watches his baby sis dance her heart out. He'll never share these videos with the fam; they're for him and only him—his pretty bird in a cage. Duke will learn how to dance or drum just so you don't have to go to your temple. Sometimes he goes off beat since he's so busy watching you; it makes you misstep, and you fall on your butt laughing. Now Duke’s obsession is getting worse. Sometimes he picks up the pace or slows it down just to watch you stumble; that way, he has an excuse to help you up or make your time at the manor longer. His little sis is struggling with the dances; he has to help, or else how will she become high priestess? But behind that sweet smile, as his strong hands help you up, he’s going behind your back to elder mambo, telling them you’re not capable of being high priestess if you can’t get the dance right. Don’t be mad; he’s looking after you. Damian, good goddesses, he's acting like a little boy. "'Ukht story please," he says in a sweet voice, pulling on your dress. You can't even notice his yandere tendencies, but they're strong. He's acting like a sweet little boy sitting on your lap as you tell him the story of the Great Bondye. He’s staring at you the whole time. "'Ukht stay still; I want to paint you." He draws you like a goddess dancing in the hot rain. He'll sit in your lap at breakfast, sticking his tongue out at the others. But don’t be fooled by that cute face; he’s just as bad. These boys are tiring, Indra. You have no time to clear out your amulet of darkness, and you're missing your church and your lwa. You need a long break before you go insane. You miss your mambo, the girls you used to dance with, the marching parade—you miss it all. Oh, great Bondye, whatever will you do? The serpents are sucking you dry of all your love and joy; they're ruining you. But what the lwa value more is family. Should you stick to family?

[multific]

Flames of Affection

Johnny Storm x Reader

Summary: Johnny Storm finds himself falling for someone who isn’t afraid of his powers or his cocky attitude. 

It was a warm evening in New York, and Johnny Storm had never felt more alive.

The city’s skyline stretched out before him, with the glow of streetlights below competing with the starlit sky above. But what really caught his attention was you, sitting beside him on the rooftop of the Baxter Building, your legs dangling off the edge, a casual grin on your face.

“You know, you could’ve picked a less dramatic spot,” you teased, your voice soft, yet playful.

Johnny chuckled, his usual smirk lighting up his face. “What’s the fun in that? A rooftop view and a little danger? Perfect combo.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn't hide your smile. “You’re impossible, Johnny.” You used to fear heights. But not with Johnny. Not when you knew someone was there to catch you in case you fell.

“Maybe,” he said, nudging your shoulder with his. “But you like it.” His tone was light but had an edge of warmth, something he didn’t often show to anyone.

You glanced at him, catching the small change in his usual cocky demeanour. “I don’t know... I might be getting used to you, Storm.”

Johnny raised an eyebrow. “Used to me, huh? You sure you’re not falling for my charm?”

You leaned back on your hands, looking up at the stars. “Maybe a little.”

Johnny’s heart skipped a beat.

He wasn’t used to people talking to him like that. As if they didn’t just see the hotshot superhero but a guy who was real. A guy with flaws and desires and all the things he sometimes kept hidden behind his flames and his hero persona.

He let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “I’m just a guy with fire powers and a bad attitude. Don’t get your hopes up.”

“I’m not,” you said, looking at him with a knowing look. “But you’re more than that, Johnny. I see it.”

For a moment, silence fell between you both, not uncomfortable, but thoughtful. The sound of the city below was a distant hum.

Johnny’s fingers played with the hem of his jacket. “You know, most people get nervous around me. Think I might burn them alive or something.”

You looked at him, a genuine expression on your face. “I’m not most people.”

Johnny grinned. “I like that about you.”

“You’re not so bad yourself.”

He laughed, but it was soft, the usual fire in his voice replaced with something gentler. “You really think so?”

You nodded. “Yeah. You’re confident, sure, but you’re also...” You searched for the right word. “Real. Like, you have this mask on sometimes, but I can tell it’s not the whole story.”

He was quiet for a second, considering your words.

He never really let people see past the surface. But with you, he felt like he could, because he didn’t have to pretend.

“You’re too smart for your own good,” You smiled at him, your eyes softening. “Maybe. But I like who you are underneath.”

Johnny felt something stir in his chest, something warm that wasn’t fire but felt just as intense. “I think I like you, you know.”

“You think?” you teased, turning to face him more fully.

He met your gaze, his playful grin now genuine. “I know.”

Before you could respond, Johnny’s hand brushed against yours, the warmth of his touch sending a jolt of electricity through you.

He didn’t pull away, just let his fingers linger for a moment longer than necessary. The spark was undeniable.

You looked at him, and there was an unspoken understanding between you both. Johnny leaned in, just a little, and you did the same.

When his lips met yours, it wasn’t rushed or fiery like he expected. It was gentle, full of warmth, the kind that made his heart beat a little faster than normal.

His hand cupped the side of your face, and you responded with equal tenderness, your lips soft and inviting.

When you finally pulled away, he smiled, his usual bravado replaced with something sweeter. “Guess I wasn’t expecting that.”

You chuckled, your face flushed. “Neither was I.”

Johnny rested his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your skin. “So... what happens now?”

You smirked a hint of mischief in your eyes. “We keep hanging out. Keep talking and keep kissing. And see where this goes.”

“Yeah?” Johnny laughed a little. “I can get behind that.”

You leaned back again, both of you staring up at the sky, now filled with the quiet glow of the stars.

Johnny’s hand found yours, and you laced your fingers together without thinking.

There was something easy about being with him, something natural. And in that moment, it didn’t matter that Johnny Storm was a superhero with fire in his veins.

All that mattered was the connection you shared, one that was just as real as the flames he could summon with a snap of his fingers.

And it was enough.

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

Wattpad

/DO NOT TRANSLATE, STEAL OR REPOST ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

[jazztato]

Hazbin hotel Boyfriend scenarios~ How you meet Alastor

Hell is a dark place for those who were dammed there for all of eternity for their sins that they did when they were among the living, including myself I did things I’m not proud of but they had to be done and because of those things I ended up in hell, I didn’t expect to die so soon but I suppose it was my fault I got by my friend’s father who just so happens to have been the sheriff he didn’t hesitate to shoot me even if I was his daughters friend, I was a killer and to him killers must be taken down.

Now I'm in hell I was walking down the bloody streets as sinners of all kinds were stabbing each other or setting things on fire as they fought for territory, I kept my movement along the path sometimes i had wished I choose a different path then what I had, hell is nothing but a bloodthirsty hell hole literally, making me regret my life choices seeing how with every step I take I watch where I go trying not to get myself killed…  Again.  As I walked down the path of blood and death I was met with an old 1920’s style bar. It looked like the perfect place to cool down for a bit.

I pushed open the doors and just like the sign everything inside was decorated with old 1920’s decor, just like the old speakeasies they had, I walked through and around the other patron’s there who were chatting amongst themselves till I finally managed to spot an empty stool at the bar, there were tons of sinners drinking about but they all didn’t seem to want to sit in that last stool as I approached it I started to realize why it remained empty, in the neighboring stool was a sinner with deer like features, razor sharp teeth, even though all the sinners basically have razor sharp teeth, and a long red coat, he was a demon that was feared by all no wonder no one wanted to sit in the stool, it’s neighbor was none other than the radio demon.

I didn’t exactly care if he was a scary and very powerful overlord I didn’t feel like standing any longer then I already have I decided to take my chances and sit in the remaining empty stool, as I sat down I saw the sinners surrounding the bar giving me glances as if I had a death wish for sitting beside a demon such as the radio demon I decided to ignore them as I told the bartender what I’ll be having.

“Bartender, I'll have a whiskey.” I spoke clear and loud enough over the crowd the bartender just nodded and was about to make my drink till a static-like voice spoke out.

“Make that two my good sir!”  he had looked over towards me as his smile never left his face.  “You have good taste in liquor my dear!” I watched as he stretched out his hand as if he was looking for a handshake.  “Alastor!  It’s a pleasure to be meeting you my dear!”  I looked at his outstretched hand thinking if I should shake it or not knowing my better judgement to not shake his hand, I decided not to be rude and to accept his outstretched hand.

“Whiskey is the only drink I can handle at these places, the names (Y/N), what brings the oh so famous radio demon out here?  Not for fun I'm assuming?”  I firmly took my hand back as the handshake was starting to feel like a hand hold at this point, I placed my hands in my lap as I fiddled with my thumbs.

Alastor let out a slight laugh as if he thought what I said was amusing. I gave him a small glare as he took a sip of his whiskey once it was set in front of him.  “This place has the best whiskey in town. I come here every week. A friend of mine owns the bar. She always says I could drink for free, but I don’t want to bleed her dry and leave her nothing!”  He let out another laugh. “But watching the sinners run in fear of me is quite entertaining. I've been around for years and yet they still aren't used to me coming in every week.”  I watched as he took yet another sip from his whiskey. I then stared at my own before chugging it down the taste burning down my throat as he stared at my now empty glass.

“Is that so?  Why is it so entertaining to you?  I don’t get why sinners are afraid of you they all did similar things to get into hell and yet here we are sinners of all sorts not even wanting to come close to the stool that i reside in if you're asking me, you don’t seem too bad of a demon especially when it comes to small talk.” I didn’t know why I said what I said but it’s been a while since I’ve last held up a decent conversation with someone without getting into a bar fight or killing someone.

For a few minutes it was nothing but silence I was about to speak up but was cut off with the scrape of his stool he had stood up he was taller than I had expected since he was sitting most of the time, I stared over at him a bit confused he looked over at me his smile looking more strained than before.  “I am a gentleman, but I am also a powerful overlord, sinners all over fear me because of the power I have, they didn’t sit beside me because of that fear but you my friend you are different you don’t think like everyone else here you sat beside me without a care in the world.”  For a second I could’ve sworn I saw his ears pin back but quickly perked up again as if he didn’t want to be seen as weak and powerless.  “With that said, I'll be off!  Places to be errands to run, deals to make~” As the last words left his mouth a light green energy formed around the room but dissipated instantly as he stood up straight.  “Maybe we will see each other again?”  with that said he vanished into the shadows.  I let out a slight gasp as if I had been holding my breath, he was a mysterious man with a mysterious background I was about to pay my tab but the bartender rejected it saying it was covered that was when I realized that son of a bitch payed for my tab without me noticing I can’t believe it He really was a gentleman I let out a soft groans as I stood up from the stool and headed out of the bar back to the bloody streets of hell, the next time I see him I will have to figure out a way to pay him back without him knowing because that sneaky deer thought he could get away with it, it was a nice gesture but now It’s making me feel bad since he spent his money on a sinner such as myself, he said he goes there every week if I’m lucky I’ll see him again and this time I’ll have the upper hand, I fell onto my bed closing my eyes as sleep soon washed over me.

[squidsquidsquidsquidsquidgame]

Headcanons! THANOS

Character: Thanos x fem!reader

Summary: general boyfriend Headcanons

Warnings: none

1. Su-Bong likes to send you random texts during the day just to check in, even if it’s just a simple “Hey.”

2. He always insists on carrying your bags, even when you tell him you’re fine.

3. When he’s bored, he’ll poke you until you react, just to get a rise out of you.

4. He’ll give you a kiss on the forehead when you’re not paying attention, then act like it never happened.

5. If you steal his hoodie, he’ll pretend to be mad, but secretly he likes seeing you wear it.

6. He sometimes talks to you in that soft, low voice just because he knows it makes you smile.

7. If he notices you’ve had a rough day, he’ll make sure to do something small, like bring you your favorite snack.

8. He’s the type to casually sit close to you on the couch, just to have his leg touching yours.

9. When you’re sick, he’ll make sure you’re comfortable but won’t leave your side until he knows you’re feeling better.

10. Su-Bong gives you a side-eye whenever you make a joke at his expense but secretly loves it.

11. He’ll listen to you talk about your day, even if it’s boring to him, because he just enjoys hearing your voice.

12. When you laugh at something stupid, he’ll grin and shake his head like you’re both in on a secret.

13. He always makes sure your seatbelt is on before starting the car, even if you’ve already done it.

14. He has a habit of fixing your hair or adjusting your clothes if he thinks you look a little out of place.

15. When he’s in a good mood, he’ll just randomly grab your hand and squeeze it.

16. He always steals a bite of your food, no matter how much he says he’s not hungry.

17. If you're watching something and get too into it, he’ll make fun of you for being so passionate.

18. He’ll steal your blanket if you’re not careful, but he’ll also pull it over you if he sees you’re cold.

19. He doesn’t always know what to say, but he’ll silently hold your hand when you’re feeling down.

20. Su-Bong will act like he’s too tough for affection, but when you’re in his arms, he never wants to let go.

🍒🥭🍏

[ni-idea-07]

your scent

Tw: obsession, abuse, dysfunctional family, bullying, misuse of magic and its negative consequences. I have nothing against the LGBT community (I'm actually bisexual). Suicidal tendencies, depression, apathy as a result of depression. Self-harm.

They'll be left wondering if the spell worked or not.

Muajajajaj *insert evil laugh*

=============

You were always obsessed with the entire Wayne family history and its connection to Gotham.

You fell head over heels when you saw Timothy Drake Wayne. Damn, you loved him so much. But your social skills were completely atrophied (you had no talent at making friends or partners).

You'd never had a partner for obvious reasons; you were unpopular, shy, and practically a bookworm. The complete opposite of your crush.

Tim was a genius, everyone knew it. But he was a good athlete, excellent at making friends and girlfriends.

Every time you looked at him, you melted with love. You believed you and he were soulmates, that it was only a matter of time before he approached you one day and declared his love in a poetic and intelligent way.

You had a great imagination, or rather, you had excessive daydreaming, which made your fictional scenarios seem too realistic. But to be honest, it was better to be in your fantasies than in the horrible real life.

Your house was a minefield. Your parents' marriage was a mess. Your mother discovered he also liked women, and she cheated on your father many times right in front of him. Your father wasn't a saint either; he was addicted to gambling. This meant the house was only supported by your mother's money, which only arrived occasionally, since she preferred to live in her girlfriend's apartment and forget about you and your father. But when your mother came to deliver groceries for the week, she and your father would argue, throwing things at each other, and insulting each other.

Once, during their weekly shouting matches, you heard your father tell your mother that if she didn't come more often, he would kill you and then himself. You thought your mother would care a little more about you, but you were very wrong. "Do it if you want, it doesn't matter," was what your mother said at the time.

Your school life wasn't any better either. Two years ago, your best friend Melissa had distanced herself from you when she found out about your parents' problem. Since then, she seemed to want everyone to hate you, since she constantly made fun of you and encouraged others to do the same.

Melissa was pretty, and after distancing herself from you, she joined the popular group of girls. You were happy for her. But you saw how those girls didn't treat her very well, so it bothered you to get them to like her.

Melissa would whisper a little "Sorry" the first few times before pushing you or throwing your lunch.

But a month later, he just harassed you and then left. Everything got worse when the others started harassing you too.

You couldn't do anything; you were an easy target. You were sensitive. You couldn't bathe every day either. Your clothes were old, and you sometimes wore your father's (your father couldn't always afford dry cleaning, only sometimes). You looked unkempt and ugly.

You preferred to ignore the teasing, the shoving that left your lunch on the floor, the tripping, and your broken school supplies.

But you could vent in the notebook you always carried with you where you wrote your fictional scenarios.

But one morning, some boys who wanted to impress Melissa took it from you.

–"What do you have here, little mouse?"– one of them mocked as he flipped through the pages. –"Oh, so Tiddy grabbed me by the waist and pushed me against the lockers. I loved him so much, even more when he told me I was the most important thing to him." Hahaha! How pathetic. Who's Tiddy? I bet you're making that up, since no one would look at you with that horrible face you have, since whoever wanted to fuck you would have to be blind and have lost their sense of smell."–

That was all it took for you to start crying. They threw the notebook at you after making fun of other things you had written and walked away laughing.

"Tiddy" was the nickname you made up for Tim. It was silly, yes. But you didn't expect anyone to read your notebook.

That day you returned home, planning to kill yourself in a few days. You had nothing, but one afternoon while surfing the internet on your old computer, you found a strange video.

"How to Attract the Boy You Like"

You had nothing to lose except the little dignity you had left. But you were already feeling so apathetic that you were no longer interested.

The "spell" was easy.

• Get his full name.

• Write it on a piece of paper.

• Make a strange symbol on the paper.

• Burn that paper while saying a prayer.

• Gather the ashes and mix them with honey, then put it on your tongue and kiss the person on the mouth.

It was all easy, but the last step would be very complicated.

You put the honey and ashes on your tongue before entering the classroom; classes hadn't even started yet. Tim was talking with his friends.

You sighed and touched his back. He turned around and smiled at you.

God.

His smile was beautiful, so bright. He always smiled at everyone, even you.

You felt special, confident. Then you stood on your tiptoes and kissed him on the mouth.

It was small, barely a small brush, a small, delicate kiss.

There was an awkward silence, and Tim apologized before leaving.

The whole class fell silent, then one of Tim's potential girlfriends grabbed you by the hair and pulled you back, then pushed you against the empty tables.

You fell to the floor after hitting some tables.

Fucking gravity.

Then one of Tim's friends, the one who always bullied you, grabbed your backpack and searched it.

–"You're a whore then, fine. But you should smell better. How about something to perfume yourself?"

He took out your Tupperware of food, which was just boiled noodles with raw tomato sauce. He grabbed it with his hand and then smeared it on your face and hair.

–"It seems that's not enough. Does anyone else want to help?"

In short, the entire course was spent feeding you food, moving around, and trying to leave. But one of them punched you in the stomach. That afternoon, you arrived home very late because they also hit you on the way out.

Your father also hit you because you needed to shower, and that involved using water. More water bills, more electricity bills.

That week was so horrible that you preferred to spend more time in your fantasies. Your grades dropped, and you barely felt the blows or heard the screams.

You also didn't feel the pain of the cuts you made, which led you to make them deeper each time.

You had been so immersed in his world, staring into space, that you didn't notice what had changed.

Your room had few things, but something was always missing.

It started with the t-shirt you always wore because it was your favorite. But since it was already dirty, you left it in a corner. Then it was your pencil, the only one you had, and it was chewed up.

The list went on and on. All until one afternoon, you saw the famous Bruce Wayne. He looked at you, and you couldn't breathe.

What if he complained about what you did to his son? What if you were expelled from school?

Your entire school day was spent in fear, not because of your bullies, but because of the possibility of being on the blacklist of someone as rich and influential as the head of the Wayne family himself.

You gasped for air when the guidance counselor called you after school; you were about to faint.

But it turned out it was only to get a backpack with new supplies and quality notebooks.

Which barely lasted 20 minutes before your bullies set it on fire in front of you.

The following Monday, you saw that the school had been painted, had new tiles, better lockers, new desks and chairs, and, of course, high-tech whiteboards.

Bruce Wayne didn't come looking for you; he came to donate money.

You couldn't describe the peace you felt in that moment; it was so liberating.

–"Hello"

You froze in fear and turned around slowly. It was Tim standing behind you, with his beautiful, angelic smile.

–"Y/N, right?"

You nodded slowly, scared of what he might do to you. If he hung out with those who tortured you, what could you expect from him?

–"I was thinking... You're really good at history. Would you like to write a thesis with me next week?"

Your whole world fell apart. He was so kind, so sweet.

But you didn't feel that "love" for him anymore. He was just another person.

–"No..."– you shook your head and then left.

But Tim didn't stay there.

At lunch, he sat with you. You could tell all your bullies were gone.

But you felt like they could show up at any moment and tell you how pathetic you were.

You wanted to leave, but Tim grabbed your wrist and insisted that you stay. You held back the urge to cry as he squeezed your self-harm wounds.

You could only stare at your food and nod as he talked. He talked about so many things. He and you had so much in common. But you could only nod silently, waiting for him to say you were an idiot for thinking anyone would want to be with you.

But it wasn't like that. For two weeks, things continued the same way. Your bullies still didn't come, Tim talked to you more often, and you had some "peace."

But you noticed something that made you nervous: Tim smelled you. He smelled your greasy, dirty hair, and he smelled it when you were around him.

You couldn't understand how he could smell it without mentioning how disgusting you were and that you should take a shower.

But it wasn't like that.

You were able to get along with him, and your school life wasn't so bad anymore, until one afternoon, when you didn't want to go home early. Tim invited you to have ice cream, and you accepted.

–"Let's do your homework at my apartment. I have a surprise for you, okay?"

You didn't accept; you didn't trust him after everything that had happened.

He had tried everything; he had bought you some things, he had tried to make you trust him.

He'd killed everyone who bullied you, but you didn't know that.

And you definitely wouldn't know it yet.

But he didn't give up easily. He started to get closer to you; you could feel him watching you. But then one afternoon, as you were leaving school, he grabbed your arm.

–"Walk with me."

–"I-I don't want to..."– you whispered.

Tim just squeezed your arm even tighter and led you to his car. He practically threw you into the seat and put the seatbelt on you, which was too tight. You tried to get it out, but no matter how hard you tried, it wouldn't undo itself.

–"Tim... I don't like this"– you moaned, almost crying.

–"Don't cry, baby. I'll buy you some ice cream, okay?"– Just stay still, I don't want to have to hit you.

You were always someone who was very afraid of everything, and your reasons for having everything were valid. So when he parked in front of an ice cream shop, you tried to fight the seatbelt with all your strength.

–"Okay, no ice cream for you."

He grabbed the back of your neck and slammed your face against the dashboard of the car.

You didn't even feel like crying after that. You were very dizzy from the impact.

You didn't know how much time passed; you just felt Tim get out of the car and walk around it, then unbuckle you and take you out of the seatbelt.

He carried you like a child, your legs wrapped around his torso and your arms on his shoulders, which felt more toned than you thought. Your head was resting on his chest as he walked with you.

You felt yourself fall onto a bed. He said something you didn't understand, took off your shoes, and then you felt him unbuckle yours. Pants.

Your sweatshirt was next. You had nothing on underneath except your bra, so you felt the cold wind on your entire torso.

He climbed onto the bed and squatted over your torso, his legs on either side of you. Tim leaned in with a smile and began kissing your collarbone as he grabbed your wrists together and held them together over your chest with one hand while supporting himself with the other.

You let him continue, afraid to fight.

–"You don't know how much I love you."

That sentence made you shiver, then you remembered.

The spell.

Real or not, he was there, confessing his love for you.

You moaned a little when he sucked on a part of your neck, and you were sure he left a mark.

Tim pulled away and looked for something in the other room. He came back with a T-shirt and some athletic shorts.

He put them on so easily; you were docile because you were so scared.

When he finished, he settled in next to you and covered you both with the blankets.

He hugged you tightly and smelled your greasy, dirt-soaked hair all night.

You wouldn't know it, but he'd been after you for a long time; it wasn't because of the silly spell you cast.

He'd been obsessed ever since he saw how similar you were to a newborn puppy. He couldn't help but feel his heart clench every time he saw your wounds.

Your smell.

That also attracted him greatly. Although he sometimes got carried away by the pretty girls who approached him, he couldn't help but be drawn to your natural scent, that smell of your natural oil. That silly kiss you gave him was just the straw that broke the camel's back. He had to go straight to the bathroom so no one would see that idiotic smile of his. He had to leave so he wouldn't scream with excitement. He had to leave before anyone saw his next erection.

God, he could melt right now after smelling your hair.

And after killing his friends, after killing your parents and the teachers who never stood up for you, he couldn't help but feel deserving of a reward.

And that reward was you, darling.

You, him, and the long life you two would have together.

========

Thanks for reading.

Interactions and reblogs are appreciated and encouraged.

Requests are open, leave me your request and I will be happy to fulfill it.

[ripleymarske]

Somehow Ripley had never thought being a middle child was for good. He'd been the most difficult to deal with of all his siblings. And for the most part he tended to forget that he was supposed to be a role model for them. "I'm not sure if I have any patience. Just determination and sometimes that's more powerful." He laughed. He might be a middle child, but he was the least responsible. Ripley blinked at the reaction to his job. He forgot that most people thought it was some glamorous job—but no he really sat in front of a computer and did reports and math all day. It was fun for him, but not what everyone seemed to think it was. "It's not that impressive," he shrugged. "And yes, writing an essay is harder than rocket science."

He begged to differ. Creatives were far past him. He had no idea how they could look at something and see inspiration. While he did think that math and music were similar, he'd never see a tree and be able to compose a song about it—with words and everything. "I promise you, what I did there was not super impressive." He laughed. "It really does."

"ah, I guess that makes sense. middle children have all the patience in the world." she replied with a laugh. vera never had full siblings, only her cousins who grew up with her like siblings. she imagined it wasn't exactly the same; she still was just the 'other', no matter what familial relation lay between them. dark eyes widened at the mention of his last job. "holy shit, really? NASA? that's....really impressive. how was it? can you actually tell when something is harder than rocket science?" her eyebrows lightly knitted themselves together at her horrible joke.

vera waved off the compliment, even if she appreciated it. "nothing as impressive as NASA, that's for damn sure." it had always fascinated her how different individual people's brains worked considering they were made in an overtly similar way across the board. "guess it takes all sorts, right?"

[artvscvntymullet]

I have a will idea?

Maybe she works for one of the other creators and Will talks about his Deliveroo/Uber eats bill which is outrageous as he gets takeaway 2 sometimes 3 times a day and she offers to help teach him how to cook and they develop a relationship from that

A TASTE OF SOMETHING NEW - WILLNE

thank you for the request, this one was so fun to write!!

content warnings : none

word count : 2200 words

You’d always known Will was a bit of a mess when it came to his eating habits. It was a running joke among his friends and fans—he was the guy who ordered takeaway like it was an Olympic sport. You’d see him posting on his socials about his latest Uber Eats or Deliveroo delivery, always boasting about how many times he’d “treated himself” to food. But recently, you’d noticed he’d been talking about his takeaway habit a little more than usual.

One evening, while scrolling through your social media feed, you came across a video of Will chatting about how much he spent on food every month. He looked both frustrated and amused as he ran the numbers aloud.

"So, my takeaway bill this month is extortionate," Will said, holding up his phone as if trying to show the camera his bank statement. "Two or three times a day, every day. That’s literally all I’m eating. I can’t cook, so I just keep ordering. I think I could’ve bought a small car with how much I’ve spent."

You couldn’t help but laugh. It was funny—and kind of sad at the same time. Will wasn’t exactly poor, but the guy had absolutely no clue how to feed himself. You had seen him cook in the past, and while he wasn’t hopeless, it was clear that cooking wasn’t his priority. But that’s where you came in. You were known for your skills in the kitchen—friends always begged you to make them meals or show them your recipes. Maybe this was your chance to help Will out.

You didn’t waste any time. You sent him a message: Hey Will, I saw your latest video about your takeaway addiction. I get it—takeaway is great, but your bank account’s not gonna be happy if you keep this up. If you want, I can teach you how to cook. It’s not that hard, and trust me, you’ll save a ton of money. Plus, I’m really good in the kitchen.

It didn’t take long for him to respond, and the message was exactly what you expected: skeptical, but open: Wait, you think you can teach me how to cook? I can barely make toast, but alright, I’m intrigued. What do you have in mind?

You grinned to yourself. The guy was definitely down for the challenge, even if he didn’t believe you could change his ways. You quickly replied: How about we start simple? I’ll show you how to make a decent dinner without burning your kitchen down. I promise you, I won’t let you screw it up. What about this weekend?

His reply came through almost instantly: Okay, you’ve got yourself a deal. If I end up with a burnt kitchen, I’m blaming you though.

Saturday arrived, and you were feeling oddly excited about it. You packed up a few groceries, grabbed a few ingredients, and headed to Will’s flat.

When you arrived, he was already waiting for you by the door, grinning sheepishly. "I know I agreed to this, but I still don’t get how you think you can teach me to cook," he said, laughing as you walked inside. "I can’t even microwave food properly. Like, it’s a struggle."

You chuckled, shaking your head. "We’ll start slow. Don’t worry, I’ll be here to guide you." You dropped the bags onto the counter and began pulling out ingredients. "Today, we’re making a simple pasta dish. It’s easy, but it tastes way better than ordering in. Trust me."

The lesson started out slow. Will was completely clueless at first—he needed help with everything, from chopping the vegetables to stirring the sauce. But as you worked through the steps, you noticed something: Will wasn’t just following along because you were telling him what to do. He was genuinely interested. He asked questions, joked around, and seemed to enjoy learning how to actually make something from scratch. It was a bit adorable, to be honest.

"Okay, I’m not gonna lie," Will said, grinning at you from across the counter, "this actually smells good. Like, I’m impressed."

You smiled, pleased with how things were going. "See? It’s not so hard. You just need a little patience and some practice."

By the time dinner was ready, you were both sitting down to the pasta you’d made together. Will took a bite, looking impressed. "Okay, wow," he said, his eyes wide. "This is really good. You weren’t lying." He gave you a playful look. "So, what’s next? Am I ready for a Michelin star?"

You laughed, shaking your head. "Not quite, but we’ll get there. You’ll be making full meals on your own in no time."

Over the next few weeks, you and Will continued your cooking lessons. You showed him how to make all kinds of things—from stir fry to homemade burgers. Every time, he was impressed by how good the food tasted, and how easy it could be to cook for himself. Slowly but surely, Will was starting to ditch the takeaways.

One evening, after a particularly fun cooking session, Will surprised you. You were both sitting on the couch, enjoying the meal you’d just made, when he turned to you, "I’ve gotta admit," he said, his voice a little more serious than usual, "I never thought I’d be into cooking. But… it’s been pretty fun, hanging out with you. And I’m actually kinda enjoying it. You’re pretty good at this."

You smiled, feeling a flutter in your chest. "I’m glad you’re liking it. But, you know, you’ve got a talent for it too. Just needed the right teacher."

There was a slight pause before Will looked at you, a bit more earnest now. "Well, if I’m being honest… I kinda look forward to these cooking sessions more than just the food."

Your heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, everything around you seemed to quiet down. His gaze softened, and he moved just a little closer, his voice a little lower. "I mean, I really enjoy spending time with you," he added, a bit shy, his eyes meeting yours. "I didn’t expect it, but I think you’re great. I guess… I’m really glad you reached out to help me."

The air between you both felt different now—charged with something new, something more. You shifted closer, your voice barely above a whisper as you responded.

"I’m glad too, Will. I didn’t expect this either… but I think I’m starting to look forward to it too. More than I thought I would."

For a second, neither of you spoke. The silence wasn’t awkward—it was comfortable, natural, like everything had led up to this moment. Will hesitated before leaning in just enough to brush his lips against yours, soft and slow. "I think you’ve taught me more than just how to cook," he murmured against your lips, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "You’ve taught me how to enjoy the little things. Like spending time with someone who makes everything better."

You smiled against his lips, your hand finding its way to his chest. "Well, you’ve been a pretty good student. And I’m starting to think… maybe this could be something even better than cooking."

His eyes softened, a tender look that made your heart race, before he kissed you again, this time a little deeper, a little longer. In that moment, you realized that all the little lessons you’d taught him had led you both here—into something real, something that was growing into something much more than either of you expected.

A few months later, you and Will had become regulars in each other’s kitchens. You still taught him new things, but now it was more than just cooking—it was about building something real together. Every meal, every shared moment, and every smile was a reminder that sometimes, it takes a little help in the kitchen to cook up something much sweeter.

"Hey," Will said one night, as he leaned in to kiss you after a meal you both had just finished preparing, "this whole ‘cooking together’ thing? Best decision I ever made."

You laughed softly, wrapping your arms around him. "Yeah, me too."

And for the first time in a long time, you realized that this wasn’t just about cooking anymore, it was something much more.

[honeyjars-sims]

Part 2 1.9 Hot Diggity Dog

10 Years Ago

The day Lexie and I met Cammie, we were hanging out outside of work on our lunch break. We liked to sit out there and people watch, making up stories about the lives of the people passing by. We considered it character work, good practice for whenever we'd finally make it onto the other side of the camera.

I spotted Cammie, dressed in a hot dog costume and singing about a local food stand. "C'mon down to Nate's! Where the dogs and fries taste great!" She sang and danced with reckless abandon, unbothered by how ridiculous she looked.

"Hey, look," I said to Lexie. "It's hot dog girl!"

Lexie crinkled her nose. "Hot dog girl? That sounds like some sort of internet meme that I shouldn't view in public."

"Not this time." I gestured in Cammie's direction. "It's just this girl who shills for Nate's Great Dogs N Fries. I wonder what life choices led to her dancing on a corner in a hot dog costume."

"Oh, I don't know," Lexie replied, seeming distracted. Normally she was all in on giving the people we saw new backstories, but this time she seemed hesitant.

"Maybe she's the mortal enemy of a guy with a hamburger stand," I offered. "Everyday she dresses in this costume just to taunt him. She probably doesn't even really work for Nate's." I started giggling at my own stupid story until I realized that I'd been spotted.

"Oh shit!" I exclaimed. "She sees us. I hope she doesn't think we're making fun of her."

"Well, you kinda are," Lexie pointed out. She glanced back at Cammie. "Maybe we could talk to her and smooth things over." I recognized the look in her eyes and realized why she didn't want to join in.

"Oh, you like her!"

"I do not. I don't even know her."

"So? You think she's hot. You've unlocked a new kink, and it's girls in weird costumes."

"You're so stupid."

"Hey, I'm not here to judge. In fact, let me help you out." I waved to Cammie, who stopped Blic-Bloc dancing and waved back enthusiastically.

"What are you doing?" Lexie asked, panicking slightly as Cammie jogged over to us.

"Don't worry, I've got this," I assured her. "Nice costume," I told Cammie.

"Thanks! Nate's is running a buy one dog, get one free promotion today if you're interested."

"Oh, sorry, we just had lunch. My friend here was just wondering where you got your costume." I nudged Lexie, who stood up to talk to Cammie.

"Uh, yeah," Lexie concurred. "We work for Sunny Side Productions, so we're always on the lookout for new costumes."

"Oh, cool! I love that channel! My ex-girlfriend got me into it."

I threw a look at Lexie.

"Your ex-girlfriend has good taste," Lexie said to Cammie.

Cammie laughed. "Well, sometimes. I have to get back to work before Nate catches me, but maybe you can stop by the stand later when you get hungry. I usually take a break around 4 if you'd like some company."

"Yeah, sure," Lexie agreed. She mouthed Thank you to me once Cammie looked away.

I hadn't anticipated setting my friend up with a girl in a hot dog costume when I woke up that morning, but sometimes life surprises you.

Previous | Beginning of story | Beginning of chapter | Next

[jeremiahhawkinsfanfics]

JAYCE MAKE VIKTOR’S COFFEE EVERY DAY ❤️☕️☀️

Read the whole fic on AO3

Feel free to like, share, or leave a comment (I always reply!)

It’s been only a month since they started their official Hextech research collaboration, with the full support of Piltover Council. It was a thrilling new start, first steps on the exciting path to realize their dreams; a unique chance to build tomorrows better than yesterdays.

For the occasion, the Academy granted them a wide new workspace, functional, but impersonal. The place was perfect as it was in Viktor’s eyes. Growing up in Zaun, you learn to use what you have, and build no further expectations than sparse amenities. Jayce’s opinion appeared to be different, and Viktor has been quite amused by the efforts his piltie partner has gone through to make it more comfortable.

“We are going to spend more time here than in our home”, Jayce used to defend when Viktor mocked his latest fads.

The first thing he brought to the lab was a brand-new coffee machine. When Viktor saw Jayce installing it on their second day, he had to laugh.

“Do we really need that?” He asked, cocking a mocking eyebrow at the shiny bright equipment, much nicer than anything he ever owned.

“Of course, we do!” Jayce exclaimed as if Viktor was questioning the use of pens to write.

And gods knew he was right.

Even though Viktor was never fond of coffee bitter taste – he preferred to indulge his sweet tooth – being a night owl meant he was holding on caffeine for dear life to keep his brain at pace. Jayce was the morning person in their team. He was the type to wake up before the first beams of the sun, jump out of bed, and rush to the lab as soon as he could, excited to discover something new. He was buzzing with energy through the whole day, only caving into the need for caffeine after sunset, and ending completely unresponsive after the twelfth strike of the clock.

“I wish I was told I’d be working with a sunflower”, Viktor often teased gently, watching his partner’s head drooping just past 11:00pm.

Viktor himself couldn’t be more different. His brain thrived at night, keeping him awake as long as the moon could be seen in the sky, only shutting down out of exhaustion a few short hours before sunrise. His sleep was overpowering, heavy as lead, knocking him out on the instant his body collapsed on his mattress. He could only crack an eye open in late morning. Lost in a foggy haze, he was always struggling to crawl out of bed and to hobble his way to the lab, hooked to his crutch as he would to a lifeline. Even ideas as simple as getting breakfast were too much to ask. Aside from dropping himself on his chair like a sack of grain, Jayce couldn’t count on much of anything from Viktor before noon, not to mention any sort of response to external stimuli. On lucky mornings, Viktor sometimes uttered “hi” to which Jayce felt an irresistible need to poke fun at Viktor.

“I wish I was told I’d be working with a bat”, Jayce sometimes joked back, looking at his partners’ heavy eyelids on their first hours of work.

Despite his fair teasing, Jayce took it as a challenge. One of these crippling mornings, as Viktor pushed the heavy door of their lab, he was surprised by the rich smell of freshly brewed coffee, a warm cup shoved in his hands, and a cheerful “Good morning, Viktor!” thrown at him with a bright smile. Viktor stayed stunned, completely silent, staring at Jayce as he would at a four-legged chicken.

“… Mornin’ Jayce… Thanks…” he managed to mumble, before letting himself fall at his workstation.

At first, he thought about telling Jayce that this kind of attention was unnecessary, that he was perfectly capable of making his own coffee, thank you very much. But something stopped him from protesting. Maybe it was his usual morning exhaustion? The soothing warmth of the ceramic on his fingers and palms? Or that indescribable, alien twitch in his chest, that drew a small and tired smile on his lips? Inexplicably, the coffee Jayce made for him seemed to taste better, dissipating the heavy morning fog in his brain more efficiently. For the countless cups he used to forsake at every corner of his desk, spending half the day drinking only a cold ersatz of a brew, Jayce’s coffee was still smoking when he took his last sip.

Little did he suspect that this would be the welcome he’d receive every single day from now on. Every morning, as he pushed the lab door, he could breathe the cozy smell of fresh coffee in the air, and immediately knew Jayce was there, waiting for him, even before seeing his face. Then he felt the familiar warmth of the cup in his hands, the welcoming voice of his partner in his ears, and his heart got a little lighter. Getting out of bed was becoming surprisingly easier. A sleepy smile was even lighting his face as he walked toward the lab, looking forward to the day starting in such a pleasant way.

This morning however, there was no smell of coffee, no warm cup, and no welcome. He entered the lab in a cold silence. His eyes instinctively looked around, but Jayce was nowhere to be found.

“Am I really there first?” he silently wondered.

Since the start of their collaboration, he only managed to beat his enthusiastic partner twice at “who will be the earliest at work”. The first time happened on one of his sleepless nights; his leg was hurting too much, and he resolved to return to the lab, hoping to distract himself from the pain. The second time was a few days ago, when they got so caught in their research that they both slept in there, bent on their desks, heads in their arms. Oh, how his back made him regret this decision! He still hadn’t fully recovered, his unforgiving muscles dreadfully stiff, his shoulders and neck tense, stinging at every move.

Viktor stepped into the lab. The beat of his crutch on the floor was echoing endlessly on the stone-grey walls. The place felt confusingly unfamiliar. He almost wondered if he hadn’t got through the wrong door.

He dragged himself to the coffee machine, and muffled a swear when he noticed it was out of water. Refilling the tank, he went to gather his cup. He emptied the leftover cold substance of last night, and pressed the button to fill it, unbothered that it was still dirty. The smell wasn’t quite the same.

“You’re being ridiculous, Viktor”, he scowled himself internally. “Coffee is coffee. And you don’t need anyone to make it for you.”

Still, he was wondering what was is partner’s secret trick – there must be one, there was no way two coffees made of the same water, same grain, and same machine could smell and taste so different. Neither was it that one would lighten up his mood so much, while the other made him even grumpier than usual. That was scientifically impossible.

As he was about to reach his chair and kick off with today’s equations, his eyes dropped on Jayce’s abandoned cup in a corner of his desk. The sad little mug sat there, dangerously close to the void, forsaken, stained and empty, in the middle of a mess of scribbled papers. It somehow looked like its owner on the night Viktor interrupted him in his destroyed apartment. It simply didn’t feel right. With a sigh, he reached for it, shivering at the cold ceramic under his fingers.

Carefully, he brought it to their lab sink. The sound of water seemed deafening in the silence of the room. There was odd satisfaction to wash the dried residues away, the white paint emerging anew. He moved back to the machine and pressed the button. The smell of this coffee smelled frustratingly better than the one he just poured for himself. Viktor lifted his brow. How was that even possible?

“Maybe some minor chemical reaction with the soap residual molecules and the coffee?”.

The warmth of Jayce’s cup in his hands spread a smile on his lips. With a little laugh, he realized it was the very first time he was making someone else’s drink. How surprising it was, feeling so good about taking care of someone else with such simple gestures, while handling his own basic needs was never more than a burdensome chore. He contemplated the emotion in his chest for a moment, radiating through this body like the caress of the summer sun. He wondered if this was how it felt for Jayce, when he brewed his coffee every morning.

Carefully, he set up the smoking cup on Jayce’s desk, and then reached his own chair. Before moving back to his equations, he couldn’t resist a last quick glance at his partner workstation, ready for him to arrive. This felt, somehow, right and comfortable… almost domestic. As if it was all in the great order of how things should be.

Read more on AO3! 😊

https://archiveofourown.org/works/62473027/chapters/159882763#workskin

[purplesimmer455]

Nancy gets a text from her crush Alex, saying that they’re in Tomarang as well, visiting their auntie Evelyn and her wife Mariko. Nancy gets permission from her parents and invites them over. They agree, and say they’ll be there soon. “Just be cool, Mom, and you especially Ren,” she adds, Riley puts a hand to their chest. “What, me? I’m so cool, I’m practically freezing,” they joke, and Nancy half laughs and half groans. “Don’t worry Nan, we won’t share anything too embarrassing about you,” Stephanie adds with a twinkle in her eyes “Yeah, though I do have some embarrassing Nancy facts in my mind,” Haruo adds with a mischievous grin, and Nancy grumbles good naturedly but smiles too.

Alex comes over half an hour later, and they greet Nancy shyly before saying hi to her family. “It’s so nice to meet you, sweetie. Nancy has told us a lot about you.” Stephanie says, and Alex blushes as they grin at Nancy, who’s red too. “She did? Well, I told my parents and aunties a bunch about her too.” They say, and Nancy grins this time. “Yeah, Nan’s always talking about you,” Haruo says, and Nancy elbows him lightly. “Nan,” Riley chides gently before smiling at Alex. “We’re heading to the private beach if you want to join?” They ask. “Sure, I’d love to. Thanks Mx. Takamura.” Alex says, and Riley grins, “You can just call me Riley,” they say, and Alex nods, smiling shyly.

Edit: Dang, I wish I took better photos for this Alex meeting the parents post. I took these probably just before I closed my laptop for the day and was rushing but anyway, it works. Also, I based the way Nancy’s family teases her on the way my family is. We do a light group teasing sometimes similar to this, never in a mean way but more for fun. 😄👍

Also, I feel sheepish to say that I had a migraine again this week today (and the week before this and then before that one 😅), I think my sleep schedule mixed with not being able to eat or drink water during Ramadan is exacerbating things but I’m hoping if I set my schedule for Ramadan so that I sleep at 9:30 and rest more, it won’t happen.

[mntzkposts]

spider!megan hcs

c.ai link » spider!megan

some hcs for my favorite spider girl :)

Megan has always been a bit of a nerd.

The kind of girl who can spend hours geeking out over science experiments, builds her own gadgets just for fun, or makes you watch Star Wars just because she's completely enamored with Natalie Portman.

She had a normal life until that happened. The next morning, she woke up with super strength, wall-crawling abilities, and a weird tingly feeling that seemed to warn her of danger.

Pretty awesome, right? Well, not exactly. Because with great power… yeah, she learned that lesson the hard way.

At first, she did what any teenager would do: freak out, experiment with her powers, and try to impress herself in the mirror... I mean, she wanted a cool landing too.

But things took a turn when a bad decision led to someone getting hurt—someone she could’ve saved. That’s when she realized that her powers weren’t just some cool trick.

So now she finds herself swinging across the city, stopping small-time criminals, and trying to make a difference, even when the world felt impossibly big.

Sophia, her best friend, figured Megan's secret pretty quickly (not like she did a good job hiding it from her anyway).

And then there's you, the coolest girl Megan knows. No big deal or anything, but she may or may not have the biggest, most painfully obvious crush on you.

Whenever she talks to you she stumbles over her words, makes awful jokes, and prays you don't notice the way she looks at you for a little too long.

Sometimes, she shows up with random bruises, but she skates, so you just assume it’s normal. Either that, or she’s secretly fighting raccoons in alleyways—both seem equally likely.

She swears she wanted to tell you but it's not like the topic came up anyway, right? right?

So she did what she had to do, hiding it from you until you literally caught her adjusting her web fluid device.

Yeah... she almost shoots you right in the face by accident. It's not her fault though, you were the one who scared the shit out of her when she was hyper-focused.

Hates rainy days, swinging in the rain sucks. Period.

She likes to customize her own charms and sometimes you do it together! Although she loses them most of the time, that's why she has a little box with the charms you make for her.

Megan struggles with balancing her double life, constantly letting people down without meaning to (she doesn't actually let anyone down).

Obsessing over a problem? Her biggest entertainment.

If a conversation makes her uncomfortable, she’ll change the subject or run (literally).

She has an almost photographic memory for NYC’s layout and loves finding new shortcuts and hidden spots where she can keep an eye over the city.

Despite being a superhero, Megan is still incredibly clumsy. One second, she’s walking next to you—the next, she’s tripping over her own feet. "I’m good, I swear! That was just- uh... Totally tripped on purpose. Totally."

But when she’s in the suit? She’s fast, fearless, and quick with a joke—because if she doesn’t laugh, she might start thinking about all the ways she could mess up.