#hero homes phase 2

[brunchable]

How's retirement, Bucky? | Bucky Barnes x f!reader.

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x f!reader

Themes: Funny. Bucky trying to find things to do to kill time, while also being a menace to Y/N and the neighbours. Prequel to 'Ouch, My face.'

Summary: Bucky decides to retire and leave the super hero world behind, but now he doesn't know how to be normal citizen.

A/N: Just another scenario tha rudely popped into my head. . .

Bucky Barnes was retired.

It still felt strange, even after months of settling into a life of quiet mornings and unhurried afternoons. He had fought in wars, spent decades as an agent of chaos, and dedicated years to redemption and healing. Now, here he was—waking up whenever he pleased, making breakfast in a house that didn’t have bullet-proof glass windows or a panic room, and trying to figure out what to do with the rest of his day.

Today, like most others, started off simple enough: a run through the neighbourhood, a cup of coffee, and a lazy scan of the news. He’d even managed to fix the leaky faucet that had been bothering you for weeks, earning a soft kiss on the cheek as a reward.

But then… the day stretched on. There were no missions, no tactical planning, no world to save. Just the quiet ticking of the clock and the gentle hum of suburban life around him.

So, Bucky set his sights on something—or rather, someone—far more interesting: annoying you.

And thus began the saga of Bucky Barnes’ Retirement Phases.

Phase 1: The Handyman Hero Phase

Duration: One Month

Bucky started off strong, becoming the ultimate handyman of the household. Everything was fair game for improvement. Leaky faucets, creaky floorboards, wobbly shelves—if there was a screw to tighten, Bucky was on it like a well-oiled machine.

“Bucky, what are you doing?” you asked one morning, sipping your coffee as you watched him carefully measuring the distance between each picture frame on the living room wall.

“Making sure they’re exactly one inch apart,” he said without looking up, his voice deadly serious.

“Why?”

“Because last night, I noticed this one—” he pointed to a frame on the far left “—was slightly off-center, and it’s been bothering me ever since.”

You blinked. “Bucky, it’s fine.”

“It’s not fine, Y/N. It’s one and a quarter inch apart. Do you know what happens when things aren’t balanced?” He gave you a haunted look, as if you’d just suggested destabilizing the world order.

“Chaos,” you muttered.

“Exactly.”

Within weeks, Bucky had rebuilt half the house, repainted the walls (twice), and installed a state-of-the-art security system that even Tony Stark would envy. You came home one day to find the couch moved three inches to the left, the coffee table completely gone (“I dismantled it; we don’t need it”), and Bucky seriously contemplating whether the kitchen would look better with marble or granite countertops.

“Bucky,” you said slowly, trying to remain calm, “I’m begging you—stop fixing things.”

He blinked at you. “What do you want me to do then?”

You panicked. “Anything. Just—find a hobby!”

He gave a solemn nod, as if you’d just entrusted him with a new mission. “Okay. A hobby. Got it.”

You breathed a sigh of relief. If only you’d known what was coming next.

Phase 2: The Google Scholar Phase

Duration: Two Weeks

With his newfound free time, Bucky discovered the internet. And when Bucky Barnes discovers the internet, chaos ensues.

It started innocently enough. You’d come home to find him glued to his laptop, his brows furrowed in concentration.

“What are you doing?” you asked, setting down your bag.

“Research,” he said ominously, fingers flying over the keys.

“Research on… what?”

He glanced up, his eyes wide. “Did you know sharks have been around longer than trees?”

“Uh—”

“And that banana slugs can grow up to 9 inches long?” He leaned forward, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “There’s a whole website dedicated to weird animal facts. I’ve been reading for hours.”

And so, you were subjected to two weeks of nonstop trivia.

“Hey, Y/N!” he’d shout from the kitchen. “Did you know an octopus has three hearts?”

Or: “Did you know cows have best friends?”

And: “Do you want to hear about the deepest point in the ocean?”

“Not really—”

“It’s called the Mariana Trench, and it’s seven miles down!”

You tried banning Wikipedia, but he just switched to obscure forums. You blocked YouTube, and he found a random chicken fact blog. The worst part? He’d share his newfound knowledge with anyone who’d listen.

“I’m calling Sam,” you muttered one evening after hearing Bucky recite the entire history of the humble potato to the mailman. “You need social intervention.”

Phase 3: The Home Décor Perfectionist Phase

Duration: Two Exasperating Weeks

Denied access to his newfound internet pursuits, Bucky turned to interior design. You were caught off guard one Saturday morning when he asked, “What do you think of paisley?”

“What’s a paisley?”

“Pattern. I’m thinking of reupholstering the couch.”

“Bucky, no—”

Too late. Within days, every room was a different colour. You came home to find polka-dotted curtains in the bathroom, and he’d somehow managed to install a chandelier in the laundry room.

“Bucky, why is there a 10-foot mirror in the hallway?”

“It makes the space feel bigger.”

“Bucky, this is a two-bedroom house!”

He paused, squinting at the living room wall. “I think the polka dots need to go.”

You nearly wept with relief when he announced he was moving on to the garden.

Phase 4: The Amateur Detective Phase

Duration: One Overly Suspicious Month

After redecorating the entire house, Bucky set his sights on the neighborhood.

“Y/N, did you see that guy across the street?” he whispered one morning, peering through the blinds with a pair of binoculars.

“That’s Mr. Henderson. He’s eighty-five.”

“Yeah, and he’s up to something. No one goes to the mailbox that often.”

“Maybe he likes getting his mail?”

“I’m telling you, something’s not right.” He tapped the binoculars. “I’m gonna get to the bottom of it.”

And so began Operation: Neighborhood Watch. Every delivery truck was scrutinised. Every dog walker received a full background check. The poor Girl Scouts who came to sell cookies left looking slightly shell-shocked.

The Girl Scout Incident: When Bucky Barnes Met Thin Mints

The Girl Scout incident started out innocent enough—just a kid selling cookies to the neighborhood. But when Bucky Barnes answered the door, things took a turn.

It was a sunny Saturday morning. You were in the kitchen, enjoying a rare moment of peace, when you heard the doorbell ring. Before you could even get up to check, Bucky’s voice echoed from the living room.

“I got it!” he called out, already making his way to the front door.

Curious, you peeked around the corner just in time to see him open it. Standing on the porch was a sweet-looking little girl, no more than nine or ten, decked out in her green uniform, clutching a clipboard and flashing a bright, eager smile.

“Hi, mister!” she chirped, clearly undeterred by the stern look on Bucky’s face. “Would you like to buy some Girl Scout cookies today?”

You watched as Bucky’s expression softened just a bit, his head tilting to the side in confusion.

“Cookies?” he repeated, as if she’d just offered him nuclear launch codes.

“Yep!” She held up a laminated chart with pictures of the various cookies, pointing to each one with a tiny, rainbow-colored pen. “We have Thin Mints, Tagalongs, Samoas—uh, I mean, Caramel deLites—”

He squinted at the chart, clearly trying to make sense of it all. “Why would you need to sell cookies?”

You nearly face-palmed. Oh no.

The girl’s enthusiasm didn’t waver. “It’s a fundraiser! To support our troop activities and trips.”

“Fundraiser?” Bucky’s voice dropped suspiciously. “Who’s your troop leader?”

The girl blinked, a little taken aback. “Uh, Mrs. Patterson?”

“Uh-huh. And how many boxes of these so-called ‘cookies’ are you supposed to sell?”

Her smile wavered just a fraction. “Um, as many as possible?”

Bucky crossed his arms, leaning against the doorframe. “And where does all this money go?”

“Bucky—” you tried to interrupt, stepping forward, but he held up a hand without looking back, eyes still locked on the bewildered Girl Scout.

“It goes to our troop!” she answered nervously, glancing down at her clipboard as if for reassurance. “For badges and supplies and—”

“Supplies,” Bucky echoed, his tone suddenly sharp. “What kind of supplies?”

“Uh… arts and crafts…?” she stammered, clearly starting to get uncomfortable.

“Arts and crafts?” He leaned in, dropping his voice to a low, conspiratorial whisper. “Or something else?”

You saw the poor girl’s eyes widen, her grip tightening on her clipboard as if she was contemplating using it as a shield.

“Bucky, stop,” you hissed, stepping forward to intervene. But he was on a roll now.

“Who gets the money, huh?” He narrowed his eyes, peering down at her like she was an enemy combatant. “Do you get it?

“Or does it go to some mysterious ‘troop leader’ who’s hiding behind a desk somewhere, raking in profits from innocent cookie sales?”

“M-Mister, it’s just cookies,” she squeaked, glancing nervously at the boxes stacked beside her. “We just wanna go camping this summer.”

“Camping?” he repeated slowly, as if tasting the word. “And what kind of ‘camping’ are we talking about here? Deep-woods recon training? SERE training?”

The girl blinked up at him, clearly having no idea what he was talking about.

“Bucky, she’s nine!” you practically shouted, rushing over to save the poor child from what was rapidly escalating into a full-blown interrogation.

“But Y/N, this could be—”

“It’s not a conspiracy, Bucky!” you snapped, turning to the girl and giving her what you hoped was a reassuring smile. “Sweetie, how much for a box of Thin Mints?”

“Uh… f-five dollars?” she stammered, still eyeing Bucky like he might suddenly sprout fangs.

You reached for your wallet, pulling out a ten-dollar bill and handing it to her. “Keep the change.”

“Thank you, ma’am!” she squeaked, stuffing the money into her pouch with trembling hands.

You shot Bucky a glare. “Apologize.”

He crossed his arms, looking mulish. “But—”

“Bucky.”

He let out a sigh, running a hand through his hair. “Fine. Uh… sorry… for, um… asking about your troop leader and, uh… the money laundering?”

The girl blinked up at him, clearly not following.

“Bucky!” you hissed, elbowing him sharply.

“I mean, sorry for… for… being weird,” he mumbled, shoving his hands into his pockets.

The girl gave a hesitant nod, glancing back at her stack of cookies. “Um… would you like another box, mister?”

Bucky frowned thoughtfully. “Maybe. Which one’s the best?”

“Bucky—” you started, but he was already leaning down, listening intently as the girl launched into a detailed explanation of the flavour profiles of Samoas versus Tagalongs.

Twenty minutes later, Bucky was the proud owner of a dozen boxes of Girl Scout cookies, which the girl somehow managed to upsell him into buying. The look of relief on her face as she walked away was palpable.

You turned to Bucky, hands on your hips. “Really, Buck?”

“What?” he said defensively, clutching his armful of cookies. “I needed to make sure it was legit!”

“Uh-huh. And that’s why we now have enough cookies to feed an army?”

He shrugged, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “I guess I got carried away.”

“Just… try not to scare any more children, okay?”

“Hey, I was just being thorough,” he muttered, glancing down at the boxes. “Besides… these ‘Samoas’ are actually pretty good.”

You shook your head, laughing despite yourself. Because only Bucky Barnes could turn a simple cookie sale into a full-scale interrogation—and then end up buying out the entire stock.

“Whatever you say, Bucky. Whatever you say.”

He gave you a sheepish grin, holding up a box of Thin Mints. “Want one?”

“Sure,” you sighed, reaching out to grab a cookie. Because, at the end of the day, this was Bucky Barnes: ex-assassin, super-soldier, and now… terrifyingly dedicated Girl Scout cookie connoisseur.

The Girl Scout incident, unfortunately, didn’t mark the end of Bucky’s neighbourhood watch endeavours.

“Hey, Y/N, that’s the third day in a row Mrs. Higginson has gone jogging past our house,” Bucky muttered a few days later, scribbling furiously in his notebook.

You glanced over from your spot on the couch, raising an eyebrow. “Uh-huh,” you replied absently, already wondering if now would be a good time to text Steve for a little ‘rescue mission.’ “Maybe she likes jogging?”

“Nah,” he said, shaking his head. “It’s not natural. It’s a cover for something. Probably espionage.”

“Bucky, she’s seventy.”

“Exactly. No one that age moves like that. She’s gotta be a retired agent.”

“Or she’s trying to stay in shape?”

“Or she’s spying on us.” He narrowed his eyes, peering through the blinds. “Maybe she’s HYDRA.”

“Bucky, she brought us homemade banana bread last week.”

“Which tasted suspiciously good,” he muttered darkly, tapping his pen against his chin. “I’m keeping an eye on her.”

It didn’t stop there. He began obsessively tracking patterns—when neighbors took out their trash, when they left for work, who picked up their mail first thing in the morning. His conspiracy board rivaled the one you’d seen at S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters, complete with photos, string, and a suspiciously large map of the neighborhood.

“Y/N, I need to talk to you.”

You blinked, looking up from your book. “What’s up, Buck?”

He leaned in, his voice low and serious. “Did you know Mrs. Patterson’s dog peed on our lawn three times this week?”

“I—what?”

“And Mr. Thompson left his house twice yesterday. Twice.”

“…is that a crime?”

“Yes. Who leaves the house twice in one day? He’s clearly up to something.”

“Like… groceries?”

Bucky frowned. “No. Something bigger. I saw him walking to his car, get this—without any bags.”

“Maybe he forgot something?”

He shook his head, eyes narrowed. “It’s a diversion tactic. I’m keeping a close watch on him.”

“Please don’t tell me you’re stalking the neighbours.”

“Of course not!” He paused. “I’m… observing. For science.”

“For science?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, Buck. I’m putting my foot down,” you finally managed. “You need to stop this. The neighbours think we’re crazy. You’re scaring the kids and… the mailman won’t come to the door anymore.”

Bucky looked genuinely confused. “Why not?”

“Because you interrogated him about his route last week!”

“He was being shady!”

“He’s a mailman!”

There was a long pause as you stared each other down, Bucky looking defiant and you looking exhausted. Finally, you sighed and ran a hand through your hair.

“Buck… I know retirement is hard. But you need a new outlet. Maybe something a little less—”

“Paranoid?” he offered, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah. And a little less terrifying for the neighbours.”

He sighed deeply, like you’d just asked him to hang up his shield all over again. “I was just… trying to be useful.”

Your heart softened immediately. Because that was what it all boiled down to, wasn’t it? The man who’d spent his life fighting wars and doing battle against his own mind was now left trying to figure out how to fit into a world that no longer needed him to save it.

You walked over, placing your hands on his shoulders and giving him a soft smile. “You’re always useful, Buck. Even if you’re not interrogating the mailman about federal postal regulations or… spying on seventy-year-old retirees.”

He snorted, shaking his head. “I might’ve gone a little overboard, huh?”

“A little,” you agreed with a grin. “Maybe you should find something else to watch over.”

“Like what?” he asked, looking genuinely curious.

You bit your lip, thinking. “I don’t know… Maybe get a pet? You could… I don’t know, babysit a cat or something.”

Bucky blinked at you. Then his eyes lit up like you’d just handed him the Holy Grail of retirement activities.

“A cat,” he murmured slowly, as if testing the word. “A cat.”

“Yes, a cat,” you repeated cautiously, wondering if you’d just unleashed some new kind of havoc on the house. “You could train it to… I don’t know, not scratch the furniture or something.”

“Or… I could train it to keep an eye on the pigeons,” he muttered to himself, looking thoughtful.

“Wait, what?”

But Bucky had already gone inside, the gears in his mind clearly turning. You shook your head, deciding to let him have this one. After all, how much trouble could he really get into with a cat?

Phase 5: The Pet Phase (aka Operation: Find a Feline Friend)

Duration: Ongoing, with Fur Everywhere

You didn’t think he’d take it seriously. Until you came home the next day to find Bucky sitting cross-legged on the living room floor, a small, white ball of fluff curled up in his lap.

“This is Alpine,” he announced proudly.

You stared at the kitten, then at Bucky, then back at the kitten. “Bucky, what… why…?”

“You said get a pet,” he said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “So I did.”

And that’s how Alpine, the grumpy old woman in a cat’s body, became part of your household. Bucky spent weeks trying to train him (“Sit, Alpine! Sit! … Okay, fine, just glare at me, that works too.”), set up elaborate obstacle courses (“Alpine, jump! No, don’t walk away—okay, you know what, just do your thing”), and spoiled her rotten with toys and treats.

With each phase, Bucky’s retirement became a new adventure. And while it drove you absolutely crazy at times, you couldn’t help but smile when you saw Bucky lying on the couch, Alpine curled up on his chest, both looking completely content.

“Retirement isn’t so bad, huh?” you teased one evening, curling up beside him.

He hummed thoughtfully, scratching behind Alpine’s ears. “I don’t know… I think I could use a new project.”

You groaned, but your groan turned into a laugh when he grinned at you, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Oh no,” you said, narrowing your eyes. “No more projects, Barnes. You’ve nearly redecorated us out of house and home, scared the mailman half to death, and—”

“Don’t forget the gourmet cookies,” he interjected with a cheeky smile.

You shot him a playful glare. “I’m trying to forget the cookies, thank you.”

“Aw, come on. I think I finally got the recipe down. I’ll just try one more—”

“No!” you practically shouted, your voice echoing through the living room. Alpine, unbothered, merely lifted her head, gave you both a disinterested look, and went back to napping.

Bucky chuckled, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “Okay, okay. No more cookies. No more redecorating. No more… scaring the Girl Scouts.”

“Or spying on the neighbors.”

“Or spying on the neighbors,” he agreed, still looking a little too amused for your liking.

You sighed, leaning back into the couch and resting your head on his shoulder. “You know, most people take up hobbies like gardening or painting in retirement.”

Bucky nodded thoughtfully. “Yeah, but those aren’t as exciting.”

“They’re not supposed to be exciting. They’re supposed to be calm. That’s the whole point of retirement, Buck.”

He glanced down at you, his gaze softening. “You really think I’m the ‘calm’ type, doll?”

You snorted. “No, not really. But it would be nice if, just once, I didn’t come home to find you plotting to build a moat around the house.”

“Moats are an excellent defense mechanism,” he said matter-of-factly. “But okay, I get it. I’ll tone it down.”

You gave him a skeptical look. “You promise?”

“Scout’s honor,” he said, holding up his right hand. The glint in his eye, however, told you he was already planning something new.

“Bucky…”

“What?” he asked, all innocence. “You don’t trust me?”

“Not for a second.”

He chuckled, then pressed a gentle kiss to your temple. “Alright, no more projects. I’ll just focus on Alpine. She’s a full-time job anyway.”

You glanced at the cat, who was now sprawled out like she owned the place. “You’ve turned her into a diva, you know.”

“He’s just refined,” Bucky said defensively. “He’s got standards.”

“Uh-huh. Like the way he refuses to eat unless you hand-feed her?”

“Refined,” Bucky insisted.

“And how she sleeps on your side of the bed and shoves you off with her tiny, evil paws?”

“Selective.”

“And how she sits on the counter staring at you like she’s plotting your demise?”

“Observant.”

You shook your head, laughing softly. “You’ve created a monster, Bucky.”

“Eh,” he said with a shrug, smirking down at you. “I’ve handled worse monsters. She’s a good one. Besides,” he added, scratching Alpine’s head fondly, “she’s family.”

Your heart softened at his words, and you smiled up at him. “Yeah, I guess she is.”

There was a comfortable silence as you both sat there, content in the peaceful moment.

Then Bucky cleared his throat, and you glanced up to see him shifting slightly, like he was working up the nerve to say something.

“So… I was thinking…” he began slowly.

“Bucky.”

“No, no, hear me out,” he said quickly, raising his hands as if to ward off your incoming refusal. “What if we… I dunno… made a baby?”

You blinked, certain you hadn’t heard him correctly. “What?”

“A baby,” he repeated, his voice steady, though there was a telltale blush creeping up his neck. “You know, a little human—our human. Someone we can train to take over the world… or at least keep me entertained.”

Your jaw dropped open. “You want to have a baby—because you’re bored?”

Bucky gave you a sheepish grin. “I mean, I was thinking it could be a good project… long-term investment… future troublemaker…”

“Bucky,” you interrupted, placing your hands on his shoulders and staring at him, bewildered. “Are you seriously suggesting having a child like it’s another DIY project?”

He shrugged, looking as nonchalant as ever, but his eyes were soft and serious. “Maybe. But I was also thinking it’d be nice to have something, or someone, that’s just… ours. A mix of you and me. Something that isn’t tied to the past, or fighting, or… all the other stuff.”

You stared at him, trying to wrap your mind around the sudden turn the conversation had taken. “You really want a baby, Bucky?”

He nodded slowly, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “Yeah. I do. Don’t get me wrong, Alpine’s great and all, but…” He sighed, his smile turning tender. “I just think it’d be amazing to have something more. I’ve spent so much of my life taking orders or fighting ghosts. But starting a family with you? That’s something I get to build. Something that’s ours.”

You bit your lip, heart swelling at his words. Despite the completely unromantic way he’d suggested it, there was sincerity in his gaze, a yearning for something deeper than fixing leaky faucets or buying out the Girl Scouts’ entire cookie stock.

“And you think you’d be a good dad?” you teased, raising an eyebrow.

“Please,” he scoffed, pulling you closer and pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I’d be the best damn dad. I’d teach our kid how to throw a proper punch by age five, dismantle a toaster by six—”

You laughed, shaking your head. “So, what you’re saying is… you want to raise a tiny super-soldier?”

His grin widened. “Hell yeah.”

“Bucky, we are not turning our child into a mini-Winter Soldier.”

He pouted dramatically. “Not even a little bit?”

“Not even a little bit,” you affirmed with a chuckle. You leaned in, resting your forehead against his. “But… maybe we could talk about it. You know, actually talk. Not just… plan a tactical baby mission.”

Bucky’s eyes softened as he brushed his thumb along your cheek. “Yeah. We can talk about it.” He paused, then added with a mischievous glint, “After we practice a little more.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips. “Oh my God, Bucky.”

“What?” he asked innocently, his grin widening. “Practice makes perfect, right?”

You shook your head, letting out a breathy laugh. “You’re incorrigible.”

“And you love me for it,” he murmured, leaning in to capture your lips in a soft, lingering kiss.

“Yeah,” you whispered when he pulled away, your heart fluttering in your chest. “I do.”

You glanced down at Alpine, who was still sprawled across Bucky’s lap, looking utterly uninterested in the conversation. A baby. You hadn’t really thought about it seriously before, but now that Bucky had put the idea in your head… you couldn’t help but wonder.

There was a brief pause as Bucky gazed at you, his expression growing thoughtful. “You know,” he began quietly, “after that whole Girl Scout cookie fiasco… I kinda started thinking… I’d really like to have a daughter.”

You blinked at him, surprised. “A daughter?”

“Yeah,” he murmured, his voice softening. “That kid was just so… brave, you know? Standing there, staring me down even though I was being a total idiot. It reminded me of you—fierce and unafraid. I couldn’t stop thinking… what if we had a daughter like that? Strong, smart, and completely capable of putting me in my place when I get out of line.”

You felt your heart clench at his words, his quiet admission making your chest ache. “You want a little girl because she’d keep you in check?”

“That,” he said, smiling softly, “and I think I’d like the challenge. I’ve spent so much of my life dealing with people who only saw me as a weapon. I just… want to prove that I can be something else. That I can be gentle… and kind… and love someone unconditionally. The way I love you.”

You reached up, cupping his face gently. “Bucky, you don’t have to prove anything to anyone.”

“I know,” he murmured, his gaze warm and intense. “But I still want to try. And I want to be the kind of dad who isn’t just a protector, but a friend. Someone who’d sit through endless tea parties and help her build pillow forts… and buy all the Girl Scout cookies she wants without scaring anyone.”

You laughed softly, tears stinging your eyes at the picture he painted. “You’d be a great dad, Bucky.”

“Yeah?” he asked, his voice low and hopeful.

“Yeah,” you whispered, smiling up at him.

There was another beat of silence before Bucky leaned in, his breath warm against your ear as he whispered, “So… when do we start?”

You felt your cheeks heat, a mix of laughter and surprise bubbling up in your chest. “Bucky!”

“What?” he asked, his smile as innocent as ever. “I’m just asking. I mean, you know I’m a man of action. Gotta have a timeline.”

“Oh my God,” you muttered, burying your face in your hands as Bucky laughed softly, his arms wrapping around you.

“Okay, okay,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your hair. “No rush. We’ll take it one day at a time, sweetheart. But just know… I’m ready whenever you are.”

And somehow, you knew this next phase—whatever it looked like—was going to be the best one yet.

× × × ×

Ten months later

The soft glow of the nightlight bathed the nursery in a warm, golden hue, casting gentle shadows on the pale blue walls. The room was still, save for the quiet creak of the rocking chair as Bucky swayed back and forth, holding the tiniest bundle of joy in his strong, yet tender arms.

His daughter, barely a week old, was nestled against his chest, her small, delicate breaths in sync with the steady rhythm of his own. Her tiny fist curled around the fabric of his shirt, as if she knew just how safe and loved she was in her daddy's arms.

Bucky hummed quietly, the familiar melody of an old lullaby drifting into the air. It was a song his mother used to sing to him when he was no older than his sweet little girl was now. The words came softly, almost whispered, as if they were sacred—meant only for his daughter.

“Darling, you're my bloodYou have my heartbeatYou have my heartbeat, beating loud,”

His voice was gruff, yet softened by emotion as he sang, the gentle rocking lulling his daughter further into her peaceful slumber. His fingers brushed through her soft, downy hair as he looked down at her with nothing short of awe. How had he, of all people, gotten so lucky?

He had been through so much darkness in his life—seen and done things he would never be able to forget—but here, in this quiet moment, everything seemed to fade away. The world outside could wait. Right now, his whole universe was cradled in his arms, and for the first time in a long time, Bucky Barnes felt at peace.

Unbeknownst to him, you stood at the door, your heart swelling at the sight before you. You had come to check on them both, worried that Bucky might need help with the baby. But when you saw him there, rocking your little girl and singing so sweetly, you couldn’t bring yourself to interrupt.

A soft smile tugged at your lips as you leaned against the doorframe, content to watch the love of your life in this vulnerable, beautiful moment. 

Bucky was a natural, even if he didn’t believe it. You had seen the worry in his eyes when you first brought your daughter home—the fear that he wouldn’t be good enough, that he wouldn’t know what to do. But here he was, proving himself wrong in the most heart-melting way possible.

The lullaby continued, each note filled with so much love it made your eyes mist over.

"You are my lighthouseA peak of light from the dark cloudsI've lived under my whole life. . .And there's nothing I won't do for you."

Bucky’s voice cracked just a little on the last line, overcome with emotion as he gazed down at his daughter and carefully wiped his tears away. 

She had his eyes—bright and full of wonder, even when they were closed in slumber. He couldn’t help but trace the delicate features of her face with his gaze, committing every tiny detail to memory.

Finally, you couldn’t resist any longer. You stepped into the room quietly, not wanting to startle him. Bucky looked up, surprise flickering across his face when he saw you standing there. His expression softened when he realised you had been watching him.

“How long have you been standing there?” he asked, his voice low so as not to wake the baby.

“Long enough,” you replied, your smile widening as you walked over to him.

Bucky blushed, a sheepish grin tugging at his lips. “I’m not exactly a professional.”

“I beg to differ, I think you’re the best dad in the world.” you whispered, leaning down to press a soft kiss to his temple. 

Bucky’s heart swelled at your words. He never imagined he would be here—sitting in a nursery, holding his newborn daughter while the love of his life stood beside him, calling him the best dad in the world. It still felt like a dream.

“She’s so small,” he murmured, looking back down at the baby. “So fragile. I didn’t think…I didn’t think I could love someone I barely knew this much.”

Your hand gently rested on his shoulder as you gazed down at your daughter. “You’ve got a big heart, James. I always knew you’d be amazing as a father.”

He glanced up at you, eyes soft and full of affection. “You’re the amazing one.”

You reached out to gently stroke the baby’s cheek, and Bucky leaned into your touch, feeling more complete than he ever thought possible.

“I never thought I’d have this,” he admitted after a long silence, his voice barely above a whisper. “A family. A reason to feel…whole again.”

You knelt down beside him, resting your head against his shoulder. “You deserve it, Bucky. You deserve all the happiness in the world.”

Bucky kissed the top of youe head, holding you close as he continued to rock your daughter. The world outside could be chaotic and unforgiving, but in this room, in this moment, everything was perfect.

× × × ×

Baby at six months

The house was peaceful, the late afternoon sun casting a warm glow through the windows. You were out running errands, leaving Bucky home with their now six-month-old daughter, who was currently kicking her chubby little legs and babbling on her playmat. Her eyes sparkled with curiosity as she reached for her favorite stuffed bear, the one Bucky had given her the day she was born.

Bucky sat beside her, legs crossed, watching her every move like she was the most fascinating thing on the planet. He leaned down, his voice dropping to a playful whisper. 

“You know, blossom,” he began, glancing over his shoulder dramatically as if checking to make sure Y/N wasn’t around. “Your mom thinks she’s the boss.”

Their daughter let out a high-pitched squeal, and Bucky grinned. 

“Right? Can you believe it?” he continued, keeping his voice low as if sharing the biggest secret in the world. “She thinks she’s in charge around here. But between you and me, we know the truth.”

His little girl giggled again, her tiny hands grasping at the air as if she was agreeing with him.

“See, you and I?” Bucky said, tapping his finger gently on her nose, “We’re a team. We know how to get things done. I mean, just look at us—surviving nap time, figuring out how to stack those weird little ring toys, and we don’t even need to look at the instructions. Meanwhile, your mom still thinks I can’t fold laundry properly.”

He paused for dramatic effect, raising his brows. “Can you believe that? Laundry. I fought in World War II, and she’s worried I’ll mess up the towels.”

His daughter let out a delighted shriek, her little legs kicking excitedly. Bucky reached over and tickled her belly gently, making her burst into even more giggles.

“Oh, yeah, I know you think it’s funny,” Bucky chuckled. “But trust me, your mom’s got some pretty high laundry standards. I tried to fold one towel, just one, and she came over with this look like I’d committed a crime. 'Bucky, that’s not how you fold them!' she said. And I’m standing there like, ‘It’s a towel, not a top-secret mission.’”

He leaned in closer, as if telling her something top-secret. “She doesn’t know this, but I might’ve folded them wrong on purpose so I wouldn’t have to do it anymore.”

His daughter cooed, her tiny hand reaching out to grab his finger, which she promptly brought to her mouth to chew on. Bucky let her, his heart melting at the sight. She was his little sidekick, always hanging on his every word, even if she didn’t fully understand yet.

“And don’t even get me started on the bedtime routine,” Bucky continued, shaking his head in mock exasperation. “Your mom’s got this whole plan—bath, story, lights out. Meanwhile, you and me? We’ve got a better plan. We chill, we rock, maybe sing a little. You get all cozy, and bam—out like a light.”

“Bababababa,” His daughter babbled something back at him, her little voice full of enthusiasm, and Bucky nodded seriously. 

“Exactly. That’s what I’ve been saying. We’ve got this figured out.”

He scooped her up from the mat and held her close, her head resting comfortably against his chest as he walked them over to the couch. He sat down, cradling her in his arms, and continued his lighthearted rant.

“And the thing is, she’s always right, which drives me crazy. Like, the other day, she told me you were gonna try to crawl soon. I thought, ‘Nah, she’s too young.’ But then what happens? Two days later, you’re scooting around like you’ve got places to be. I swear, your mom’s a psychic or something.”

Bucky gazed down at his daughter, who was now looking up at him with those wide blue eyes that never failed to melt his heart. She let out a happy gurgle, and Bucky chuckled softly, leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead.

“You know I’m just kidding, right? Your mom’s the best. She takes care of both of us.” He sighed, feeling a rush of affection as he thought about Y/N. “Don’t tell her, but I’m pretty lucky to have her. She keeps me in line.”

Just then, the sound of the front door opening echoed through the house, and Bucky’s head shot up in mock panic.

“Uh-oh,” he whispered to his daughter, his eyes wide with exaggerated worry. “The boss is back. Don’t say anything.”

You appeared in the doorway, raising an eyebrow as you saw Bucky and the baby cozied up on the couch. “What are you two up to?” you asked, a knowing smile on your lips.

Bucky gave you his most innocent look, bouncing your daughter gently in his arms. “Oh, nothing. Just hanging out with my best girl here. Right, darling?”

The baby let out a little squeal, clearly delighted by the attention.

“Mmhmm,” You said, stepping closer and giving Bucky a playful look. “You haven’t been filling her head with nonsense, have you?”

“Me? Never,” Bucky replied, trying to keep a straight face. “We were just talking about how great you are. Isn’t that right, kiddo?”

Bianca, oblivious to the conversation, giggled and reached for you, and took her from Bucky’s arms and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

“Well, if she grows up thinking she’s in charge, I’ll know who to blame,” You teased, casting a glance at Bucky.

He grinned, leaning back on the couch. “Hey, she’s gotta learn from the best.”

You smiled, shaking your head in mock defeat. “You’re lucky she likes you so much.”

Bucky stood and wrapped his arms around you, resting his chin on your shoulder as you both looked down at your little girl, now happily nestled between you. “I’m lucky to have both of you,” he murmured softly, kissing the side of your head.

And in that moment, with his two favorite girls in his arms, Bucky couldn’t imagine a better kind of luck.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: Plot Method

The Save the Cat! Beat Sheet was originally developed by Blake Snyder to help screenwriters plot movies, but it works just as well with novels.

It breaks down the 3-act structure into small, specific sections (sometimes just one scene long).

Each section pushes your story forward in its own way.

The exact word count/page count of each section depends on how long your novel is and what type of story you’re telling, but you can use the colored chart below and the percentages in the instructions as a guide. 

Context Note: This method is based on the concept of the Three Act Structure, which is an inherently Western approach to plot. It can be a useful way to tell a story, but it is by no means the only one.

ACT 1

Opening Image (0-1%)

Show a “before” snapshot of your protagonist and their world.

What is life like before the adventure begins?

It represents the struggle & tone of the story.

Set-up (1-10%)

Expand on the “before” snapshot.

Explore your protagonist’s life, including the internal flaws and external challenges they’ll have to overcome in order to change for the better by the end of the story.

Present the main character’s world as it is, and what is missing in their life.

Also introduce important supporting characters.

Theme Stated (happens during the Set-up)

What your story is about; the message, the truth.

Usually, it is spoken to the main character or in their presence, but they don’t understand the truth/lesson…not until later, when they have some personal experience and context to support it.

Thus, include a scene where a character says something that hints at what the protagonist’s big life lesson will be - how they’ll have to change and grow by the end of the story.

Catalyst (10%)

The moment where life as it is changes.

Examples: It is the telegram, the act of catching your loved-one cheating, allowing a monster onboard the ship, meeting the true love of your life, etc.

There’s no going back to the “before” world from here… What is the inciting incident that pushes the protagonist into the next phase of the story?

Debate (11-20%)

But change is scary and for a moment, or a brief number of moments, the main character doubts the journey they must take.

Show the protagonist questioning themselves and resisting the path ahead - wondering whether they have what it takes, or whether or they should just run home and hide under the bed.

“Should I just…?” “I really shouldn’t because…” “But what about…” Can I face this challenge? Do I have what it takes? Should I go at all?

It is the last chance for the hero to chicken out.

ACT 2

Break Into 2 (20%; Choosing Act Two)

The main character makes a choice and the journey begins.

We leave the “Thesis” world and enter the upside-down, opposite world of Act 2.

They make the choice to begin their adventure/transformation/journey/new thing.

Show your protagonist deciding to plunge into Act 2.

The Promise of the Premise (21-50%)

This is when the reader thinks “Ah, now we’re getting to the good stuff they hinted at on the back cover of this book!”

It’s also one of the longest sections in your book.

Show your protagonist getting used to their new world - loving it, hating it, making mistakes or doing well, meeting new people (see more below) and keeping the reader entertained.

This is when the main character explores the new world and the audience is entertained by the premise they have been promised.

B Story (happens during The Promise of the Premise)

This is when there’s a discussion about the Theme – the nugget of truth.

Usually, this discussion is between the main character and the love interest.

So, the B Story is usually called the “love story”.

Introduce a new character or characters who will eventually help the protagonist learn their life lesson.

Friends? Mentors? Love interests? Nemeses (nemesi?)? Who are they? How will they help?

Midpoint (50%)

This moment is when everything seems “great” or everything seems “awful,” depending on your story.

The main character either gets everything they think they want (“great”) or doesn’t get what they think they want at all (“awful”).

Either the Fun and Games section has lead to a false victory for your protagonist (they think they’ve been doing great so far) or a false defeat (they’ve been having a hard time so far).

What happens in this moment, halfway between beginning and end?

But not everything we think we want is what we actually need in the end.

Bad Guys Close In (51-75%)

Get ready for a bumpy ride. If your Midpoint was a false victory, now things start to go wrong for your protagonist.

If the Midpoint was a false defeat, well, things seem to be looking up, but the bad guys are getting closer and will have something to say.

Note: Bad guys can be actual physical enemies, but they can also be emotional enemies, like doubt or jealousy or fear.

Doubt, jealousy, fear, foes both physical and emotional regroup to defeat the main character’s goal, and the main character’s “great”/“awful” situation disintegrates.

Show the protagonist’s newly-built world beginning to unravel.

This will also be one of the longer sections in your novel.

All is Lost (75%)

This is when something happens to make your character hit rock bottom.

It’s the absolute lowest part of your novel.

Maybe someone or something dies (either literally or figuratively).

The initial goal now looks even more impossible than before. And here, something or someone dies.

It can be physical or emotional, but the death of something old makes way for something new to be born.

What does this moment look like for your protagonist?

Dark Night of the Soul (76-80%)

Your protagonist now has time to react to their “All is lost” moment, to mourn what they lost and wallow in hopelessness.

They’re worse off than they were at the beginning of the novel.

Show how low things have gotten.

Mourning the loss of what has “died” – the dream, the goal, the mentor character, the love of your life, etc.

But, you must fall completely before you can pick yourself back up and try again.

ACT 3

Break Into 3 (80%; Choosing Act Three)

The “aha!” moment; the “lift yourself up and try again” moment.

Show the protagonist realizing what they need to do in order to tackle their problems, both external and internal.

Thanks to a fresh idea, new inspiration, or last-minute Thematic advice from the B Story (usually the love interest), the main character chooses to try again.

Finale (81-99%)

The protagonist does what they decided to do in the Break Intro 3 beat, and (because of all the learning/growing they’ve done and the support or insight from the B Story), their plan works.

This time around, the main character incorporates the Theme – the nugget of truth that now makes sense to them – into their fight for the goal because they have experience from the A Story and context from the B Story.

The Bad Guys are defeated, the world is changed for the better.

What are the battles? How will the protagonist triumph (or not)?

This is another longer section, so you’ve got the space to make things dramatic and intense.

Act Three is about Synthesis.

Final Image (99-100%)

This is the opposite of the Opening Image, the “after” snapshot instead of the “before.”

Show the reader how the protagonist and their world have changed.

THE END

Sources: 1 2 ⚜ Writing Notes & References

[icanseethefuture333]

PAC: What good luck is coming your way?⋆｡.°•✩

‘I’m so lucky

I’m a star

But I cry, cry, cry in my lonely heart, thinkin’

“If there’s nothin’ missin’ in my life

Then why do these tears come at night?”’

Pile 1:

Shufflemancy -

Potential Breakup Song by Aly & AJ

Best Friend’s Brother by Victoria Justice

(There’s Gotta Be) More To Life by Stacie Orrico

Discipline, Courage, Freedom, Communication, Twin Flame, Talking, Family, Plan A Vacation, Two of Air (Equilibrium), Daughter of Air, & Nine of Cups

The good luck that’s coming to your life, pile 1, is balance, confidence, and stability. Some of you could have Libra or Taurus placements. You could have had a rocky upbringing in life but it didn’t stop you from becoming the individual you are today. You could be a very loving person and have a lot to give to others. You may dim yourself down and feel that you are not all that special and often put others on a pedestal, whether that’s a family member, friend, celebrity, or partner. You need to see what’s special inside of you. The grass isn’t always greener on the other side, dear. Some of you could have a very close relationship with your parents or grandparents. I’m having a vision of a little kid running to their guardian for comfort and receiving hugs. This is a message for some of you - you guys should visit your old childhood home for abundance or need to call your parents and rekindle the relationship you had with them, they miss you very much. If you have inner child wounds from your family, you need to resolve them in order to make progress. Don’t get stuck in this current phase of your life, you need to embrace change and new beginnings. I’m seeing that there is an intense connection with a romantic interest. Some of you might be in a stagnant relationship that is not benefiting you and it is hindering your growth, I think it would be best if stay single for a while. You are growing up and you are changing, that is a good thing! Some of you have a crush on someone and you are wishing to express your feelings, I see that if you talk to this person, things could actually go very well! Although, you must focus on making yourself happy first before seeking this person. Again, you need to focus on self love first. When is the last time you did something for yourself, pile 1? Make the choice today to be the hero you always needed. Be brave, pile 1. Some of you as a child might of loved the movie Starstruck and Princess Protection Program. You should watch these films to hear the messages in them, they might give you guidance. A father figure in your life may also provide clarity for what you have been feeling. Try to reflect on the relationship you had with your parents and how that results in your relationships with others. A lesson is needed to be learned at that time, once it is completed, you will notice a drastic transformation in your friendships and romantic life. You are going to be secure with who you are as a person and won’t feel the need for others to complete a part of yourself that was feeling empty. Additionally, some of you are wishing to make a bold move. Are you wishing to travel? Take a vacation? A trip to a place you always wanted to go? Now is a good time to do so. Crossroads could be an important film and may resonate with your situation.

Affirmations:

“I can accomplish what I set my mind to”

“I find the inner strength to face fear with confidence”

Pile 2:

Shufflemancy -

Superstar by Jamelia

Love Don’t Cost A Thing by Jennifer Lopez

Whatever You Like by T.I

Loneliness, Love, Money, Courting, Cassette, Love Call, The Star, Ten of Water (Repletion), & Mother of Water

Your good luck charm, pile 2, is the charm of love, fortune, and gifts. There is someone who wishes to come into your life and spoil you. I feel that you are independent and successful in your endeavors. You are good with your finances and you may look high maintenance in appearance (you may own luxury, brand name items, or your style is just very prissy n pretty). You have an admirer that really appreciates how you carry yourself as an individual and has great respect for your accomplishments. I’m reminded of the lyrics from the song She Got Her Own by Ne-Yo ft Jamie Foxx & Fabolous:

“Knowin’ she can do for herself

Makes me wanna give her my wealth”

When this person approaches you, you will look at them like they’re crazy. You might even be offended when they offer you help or try to do chivalrous things. Do not block your blessing, this person can give you access to bigger career opportunities. You have to release your outdated beliefs. I understand you are trying to protect your heart and peace of mind, but how can you make progress in your desired career field without connections? Your spirit guides know you have expensive taste and that you won’t be the only one capable of funding that lifestyle. I’m getting Nara Smith and Lucky Blue Smith vibes. They are both working individuals but Lucky spoils Nara with gifts like designer bags and luxurious items. You give off WAG and video vixen vibes, pile 2. Your beauty is reminiscent of Meagan Good, Christina Milian, Lee Hyori, & Vanessa Bryant in the early 2000s. You could have received a lot of envy from others growing up and was always in the center of gossip. People’s consistent haterade being thrown at you has made you isolate yourself, you were never lonely because you had to be your own best friend. Some of the people who picked this pile were bullied growing up or had a hard time making friends. You are strong and confident but constantly having your guard up out of fear of being hurt is making you miss out on life. Princess and The Frog may be a very significant film that you need to watch. Tiana was hard working and had dreams of opening a restaurant so much that it made her miss out on having fun and spending time with other people, as well as using work as a coping mechanism to cope with her father’s death. It becomes unhealthy when you have the assumption that most people are inherently evil and focusing all your attention on work, allow yourself to make connections with others and have fun every once in a while. It won’t kill ya to take a break, money isn’t the source of all happiness. Changing your mindset would attract more positive interactions within the workplace, college, and in your interpersonal relationships. You know you have great qualities so try to showcase this when having a conversation. Also smile! You have cute facial expressions when you’re not making a RBF lol. You may have a hustler mindset because of being poor as a child but this does not reflect your current reality, pile 2. Some of you may also be pursuing an education, taking courses regarding your culture could provide you with some insight. Turn to your ancestors for strength and wisdom on making the right choices regarding love. You are divinely protected either way so misfortune is not at all in your destiny!

Affirmations:

“I know that I am never alone”

“I commit to the practice of seeing good in all things”

Pile 3:

Shufflemancy -

Stereo Love by Edward Maya ft. Vika Jigulina

Electric Feel by MGMT

Who Said by Miley Cyrus

Judgment, Pride, Past Life, Ice King, Karmic Relationship, The Snake, Five of Air (Conflict), Four of Fire (Perfection), & Mother of Air

Pile 3, with the lucky girl syndrome~ I see that you will be releasing yourself from other people's expectations and instead will pursue your desires. You could have grew up in a strict household and had family members who believed that being successful, wealthy, and having good grades was more important that self expression and being "happy". Financial security was prioritized over emotions and this had left your heart cold. You could be someone who has a hard time expressing their feelings and can be quite feisty when engaging in conversations. I see that you have always wanted to be more of the rebellious one or had to be rebellious in secret. The Bratz movie could be very significant to this pile, you might relate to one of the girls or one of the Bratz is your favorite doll (Jade, Sasha, Yasmin, or Cloe). I also see The Game Plan and Herbie - Fully Loaded for some of you were your comfort movies as a child. Growing up, you might of changed your clothes after your parents dropped you off at school or got dress coded often by your teachers/principal. You could have felt insecure as a child for not being able to dress like the other kids or not being allowed to wear a makeup. You have the power, pile 3. You are no longer this child anymore, this might hurt knowing you never got to experience the same emotional fulfillment other teens/adults did as children, but the good news is you have so much time to make up for it now! Take the initiative today and write down all things you never got to do but always wanted to have and start making a list of methods you could use to make this possible. As long as you put the effort in, anything could happen! I also feel that you compete with those of the same sex. You could come across people that are catty and try to put you down for no reason. You might also have these traits yourself and you need to reflect on how you treat other people, having opinions is normal but being judgemental and making assumptions about others before giving them a chance, is not. You have to acknowledge your flaws and the triggers you have been avoiding. For example, if you know that you easily get pissed off because you grew up in a household where arguing was normalized, realize that behavior isn't healthy. Overall, the good luck that you will be receiving is in regards to your independence and self expression. Additionally, I see you perfecting your craft. Some of you enjoy fashion, science, graphic design, and/or mathematics, you could receive an award or some sort of acknowledgement for your creative ideas!

Affirmations:

"I understand that everyone has their own unique path and challenges"

"I love myself, and I see myself in everyone"

Thanks so much for reading and I wish you the best of luck with whatever makes you happy in life 🍀

[kquil]

POLY MARAUDERS | HEROES IN TATTOOS PART 2

02 : THANK YOU

SUM. : you thank your heroes with home made lunch at their work place, leaving with a temporary tattoo and three men wrapped around your little finger.

TAGS. : modern au ; muggle au ; tattoo artist sirius ; tattoo artist james ; piercer remus ; innocent reader ; all three are smitten with you ; all three also being casually dominant with you ; sweetheart reader x rough tough men is the trope! ; prepare to be as obsessed as i am over these men! ; marauders with tattoos and piercings are hot

LENGTH. : 2.6k

PREV. : 01 | RESCUE

“Well there’s a familiar face,” Remus greets with a smile as you step into the shop. You timidly smile back and wait for him to wave off a customer with their care kit before stepping forward with your heavy tote strung over your shoulder, “do you have an appointment for a tattoo or a piercing?” he asks, eyes trained on the tablet at the front desk. 

“Oh, no no,” you bashfully stammer, “I’m not here for any of that, I’m scared of needles,” 

“That’s a shame,” Remus contemplates and you look up to see him leaning over with a thoughtful look, his elbows on the counter as one hand holds his chin up - he’s so handsome. He has several piercings decorating his ears and an eyebrow piercing to accentuate the angles of his brows. As he moves his chin off his palm to caress it in contemplation, he continues to take you in as you also take the opportunity to admire some of the tattoos on his arms. There are some phrases in different fonts, an impressive vision of a wolf with a full moon and a minimalist set of the moon phases alongside much more, “you’d look good with cute little piercings on your ears,” he finally comments, reaching out to point at your ear. 

“Th-thank you,” you subconsciously reach up and touch your ear, his statement making you briefly consider his suggestion.

“So what are you here for if not for a piercing or tattoo?” straightening up into his full height, Remus lets a light scowl take over his face, “Is that bastard troubling you again?”

“It’s alright, don’t worry, I told my manager and he’s been banned from the pub I work at so I haven’t had anymore bad encounters,” 

Remus smiles at your precious appearance, you really look adorable being all timid in front of him, “I’m glad,” his voice is warm and comforting, different to the roughness brought on by the ink on his arms. He was dressed in a white shirt under a sleeveless brown sweater vest, high-waisted, tailored pants with the bottoms just about reaching his Doc Martens - he’s a good balance of soft but edgy. It’s a unique charm of his, you gather.

“I-I just wanted to say thank you to you guys,” you gesture to your tote bag, “so I made you some lunch, I hope that’s okay…” 

“Free lunch, home cooked by the most beautiful lady I’ve ever seen?” Sirius interrupts, stealing your attention as he appears from a corridor to your left with a boyish grin. He reaches for your hand and brings your knuckles up to his lips for a soft kiss, “what an honour,”

Your cheeks heat up incredibly at the gesture, “it’s really nothing, you guys saved me last night, it’s the least I could do,”

Sirius smiles down at you and after sharing a look with Remus he begins to lead you down the same corridor he had just appeared from, “well, you have the most perfect timing, darling because it’s a slow day and almost our lunch break,”

“I’ll tell James and help him finish up with his last client for the day. We’ll see you in a bit,” Remus announces as he flips the sign at the door to ‘CLOSED’. You wanted to protest and say that you didn’t want to waste too much of their time but the mousy haired piercer smiled and that was enough reassurance for you to hold your tongue. 

“Let’s go love,” Sirius leads you down a corridor to a room with rock posters and varying pieces of art decorating the wall as sofas lined half of the walls with varying aesthetics, one was very much distressed but still cosy looking, as the other was of a sleek, black leather. Thankfully, there was a pretty large coffee table that you could set your tote bag on and slowly began to take out the food you had cooked. On the distressed sofa behind you, Sirius admired your tentative figure and appreciated your stark difference in aesthetic to the room around you. Your style fits close to Remus although more feminine and carefree. There was a cosy structure to Remus’s fashion but with your long flowing white skirt, chiffon blouse and delicate jewellery, you embodied a breath of fresh air under the summer sun, “what a beauty,” Sirius says to himself, arms resting along the back of the sofa as you finally settled down.

Thinking he meant the food in the tupperware, you smile, “you like the food already?”

“I’m talking about you, darling, although the food does look delicious,” Sirius chuckles under his breath as you timidly tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. 

“Th-thank you but really, I hope you like the food,” 

“I’m sure I will,” silence slowly permeates the space between you as you wait for Remus and James but it was still comfortable, not awkward at all. In that time, you both take in each other’s appearance. Sirius wears a white tank that clings to his toned figure and ends just under his belly button, showcasing a majority of the tattoos that embellish his skin. He’s also in black jeans and a pair of worn combat boots. The tattoos on his arms and those that peak out from his torso and chest don’t have a visible theme but they all still go together somehow. There are many unknown symbols and long winded sentences written decoratively around said symbols and the occasional elaborate illustration. There are some doodles dedicated to music, some to inside jokes you would guess and you want to ask questions but you bite your tongue. You didn’t want to be rude. 

“Curious?” Sirius asks, having noticed your wandering eyes and smiling at your kitten-like interest. 

“A little bit…”

“Ask away,”

When James and Remus finally join the two of you a few minutes later, they see you fully turned towards Sirius on the sofa, eyes focused on a tattoo on his chest that he was explaining the meaning of, catching you in a trance with his voice. The tattoo artist has his tank top moved down and to the side as you absentmindedly reach your hand up to his tattoo, almost tracing the ink on his skin with your delicate fingers. From the grin on Sirius’s face and the love-eyes he was watching your face with, they could tell he was smitten with you, which was rare. Sirius was very much a ladies man but you’ve managed to rope him in with hardly any effort put in. Remus doesn’t blame his friend, though, you’re very captivating. 

The chuckle from both Remus and James pulls your attention away from Sirius who smirks up at them, unbothered by their interruption.  

“I heard a pretty lady was treating us to some home made lunch today,” James eagerly sits down in the space beside you as Remus sits atop the far right of the coffee table. 

“Y-yeah, I hope you like it, please dig in,”

“Don’t mind if I do!” James cheers and promptly consumes his share of food, giving the occasional groan of satisfaction from the taste in his mouth, “Sho good!”

“Don’t speak with your mouth full,” Remus corrects with an amused smile before turning to your with an appreciative grin, “Thank you, truly, (Y/N), I was getting tired of take out,”

“Home cooking is the best,” Sirius groans from your other side, already half way through his share, which makes you giggle in happiness. Your heart swells with joy knowing that you could properly thank your heroes. Speaking off, you finally get to admire James in better lighting than the street lamps. He isn’t nearly as decorated with ink as Sirius but there was a pretty illustration of a stag on his forearm that you admired. You hadn’t wanted to feel awkward so you brought some lunch for you too and ate alongside the trio, stealing secret glances at James who remained oblivious, too engrossed in his food. He’s in much cosier attire compared to Srius and Remus. Hanging from his broad shoulders was an oversized, faded shirt and washed-out jeans with the bottoms rolled up to showcase his high converse shoes. Framing his face was a charming pair of round glasses and, matched with his unruly curls and tattoos, made him a pictured balance of casual and wild that suits only him.

Lunch passes and James was the first to finish between the trio, quickly proceeding to pull puppy eyes at his two friends in a soft plea for them to surrender some of their food to him but they firmly decline. 

“I’m not letting you have some of my lunch just because you finished yours too quickly,” Sirius huffs, pulling his tupperware closer to him. 

“Sorry Prongs,” Remus laughs, “those puppy eyes aren’t going to work on me, our dove’s cooking is too good to share,”

Unable to resist James’s pouting face, you hold up a spoonful of your meal, “it’s okay James,” you bring your spare hand to sit under the spoon and move it to James’s lips, “here, say ‘ahh’,”   

With a boyish, golden-boy grin, James happily accepts the mouthful and moans in happiness, chewing away like a happy squirrel. Enjoying his glee so much, you happily feed him the rest of your lunch, saying that you were already far too full to eat any more so that Remus and Sirius didn’t scold James too much. It was partially true though because seeing James eating was enough to make you feel full already. 

Once done, you set aside the tupperware and was completely unprepared for when James kissed your cheek as thanks for feeding him the rest of your lunch, “you’re too kind, angel, thank you,” he whispers into your ear, his breath brushing against your sensitive skin and sending a shiver down your spine. You could only muster a timid nod in response. 

When lunch ended, casual conversations started which slowly divulged into the boys wanting to give you a temporary tattoo as thanks. You wanted to protest the redundancy of their actions but were quickly convinced by the verbal pleas of Sirius and James as Remus simply stared at you with interested eyes.

“What tattoo would you like, doll?” Sirius asks, smiling at your pondering face. You're far too cute for your own good.

“Surprise me!” you finally chirp, missing the roguish grin the three men share. 

Not too long after, you were brought into a room with a computer connected to a specialised printer against one wall of the room. Remus and Sirius immediately move to prepare the temporary tattoo on the screen and set up the printer while James leads you to the tattoo bed in the middle of the room. 

“This can fold into a chair but that’s a bit of a hassle right now, do you mind sitting on the bed instead?” James asks as you shake your head and reassure that it’s alright. He loves how compliant you are and watches for a moment as you struggle to get on the high bed before offering assistance, “May I?” his hands hesitates just before they reach your figure but you pay his touch no mind and nod, moving your hands to rest on his shoulders as he secures his hold on your waist. With a small countdown, James lifts you onto the tattoo table with hardly any effort. 

Shuffling back, you smile up at James who remains taller than you on the table as he stands between your thighs, “Thank you, James,” the tattoo artist smiles when you say his name but frowns at the distance you’re sitting at the table. 

“No worries sweetheart but you we need you a little closer than that,” without another word, James grips your thighs with his large hands and pulls you with some force to sit closer to the edge of the table, which also pulls a surprised squeal from your lips, “sorry sorry,” James chuckles softly his hands still on your thighs and shudders at your proximity when he looks down to see your skirt bundled up, accentuating how close your hips were to his. Stepping away, James tidies up your skirt as you giggle and thank him once more for his assistance. He smiles at you before being called over to the computer, trading places with Sirius. 

“Where would you like your temporary tattoo, love?” he asks gently, opening a packet of sanitising wipes as the sound of the printer starts and whirrs in the background. 

“Hmmm…even though it’s temporary I want it to be easily hidden,”

“Such a shy princess aren’t you?” Sirius comments with a smile, “it’s so cute,”

Ignoring his comment, you rush to think of the perfect place for the tattoo and distract from your racing heart, “how about here?” you point to your chest, just above your breasts and below your collarbone. Sirius immediately recognises the placement and raises an amused brow. 

“Like my tattoo?”

You timidly smile, “yes please,”

“Very good choice,” Sirius praises playfully as pride swells within his chest, “but we need to get to that spot first, love,” you look down at your blouse and curse under your breath. 

“Umm…” you try to pull down the collar but it was a small cut and the fabric resists. The temporary tattoo finishes printing and Remus approaches the table with James to see you struggling with your blouse.

“Where does she want it?” James asks as Remus carefully holds the small tattoo. 

“Where mine was,” Sirius points to just below his collar bone, “but her blouse is in the way,”

Remus nods and approaches you, “that blouse is going to have to come off, dove,” his brown eyes watches you gnaw at your lip, it’s a hesitance he’s familiar with so he knows what to do, “don’t worry, you have nothing to be scared of, okay?” he gives you a warm smile when you look up at him and soon feel assured enough to untuck your blouse and pull it over your head, “good girl,” he praises with the same soft tone. You feel silly, these men give tattoos and pierce people’s skin, you’re sure that they’ve seen plenty of shirtless women in only their bras. Remus especially…he’s an expert piercer and has probably been asked to pierce lady parts that weren’t…very common.

“I’ve got to prepare your skin, love,” Sirius holds up the wipe and once you confirm exactly where you wanted the tattoo again, he wipes the area clean. Your skin is soft and slightly bouncy as it leads down to your breasts that makes the tattoo artist wipe at your skin a little longer than normal. After Sirius finishes prepping your skin and letting it dry, Remus steps up and applies the tattoo as best as he can without wrinkles. He swipes over the tattoo with his fingers and smiles at the handiwork. Beside him, Sirius and James admire the temporary ink, all three internally screaming at what you had let them ink you with.   

“Wait a full hour before you peel off the applicator,” Remus gently instructs, “and try to avoid sweating or showering for the next 6 hours okay?” you nod and Remus pats your head in approval with a contented hum. You put your blouse back on and let James help you down, laughing brightly when he raises you up high and spins you in the air before he finally sets you down, laughing alongside you. 

The boys still have a business to run so you collect your empty tupperware and wave the three goodbye before hurrying home, excited to see what tattoo they had given you as they were adamant at keeping it a surprise from you. When you finally arrived home and got a hold of a mirror, you examined the tattoo with your blouse off and felt your cheeks gradually heat up as you trace the differing fonts of the three names decorating the space beneath your collarbone. 

Their names in their handwriting. James, Sirius, Remus.

NEXT : 03 | GROCERIES

NAVI. | HEROES IN TATTOOS SERIES

A/N : i'm becoming more and more obsessed with this au - i couldn't stop writing! if i'm going down, im bringing your darlings with me! no survivors allowed! maybe i'll make a part 3? i don't know yet. again, i've added additional tags of the people who have expressed interest in more parts for the timestamp. tell me your thoughts, lovelies!

TAGLIST : @melinajenkins ; @astonishment ; @until-i-found-you ; @goodoldfashionedluvergirl ; @tiensmamains ; @manical-heaven ; @ch3rry-pops ; @unholyhuntress ; @animeluvr99 ; @peppers-library ; @thepowerthismanhasoverme ; @buck-fics ; @bohemian-lavender-girl

[solar-serpent]

🌈Based on your talents, what business should you launch?💰🪙

Hello! I hope everyone is doing great. I'm going through a phase where I started wondering if I wanted to go back to work for an employer, or even if it was worthy after I've acknowledged all my potential and the fact no one would ever pay for the real price of my work. Aquarium era is hitting me harder, and I bet you too are feeling this call to reach financial freedom. We deserve it.

I want to contribute with your awakening.

Please take a deep breath, focus on what's in front of you and pick the picture you feel more attracted to.

Pile I → Pile II

Pile III → Pile IV

🌱Pile I🌱

OMG, pile 1, you are so kind and empathetic that people want to open up to you and ask for your opinion/advice on topics such as recent breakups, petty fights with mom, best friend betrayal drama and so. Even though that's not the main purpose for them going into your store/business. If you weren't an entrepreneur, you could've been an excellent therapist since your serene demeanor and polite speech would make others believe they are speaking to a good friend. You show you care for what you are being told by providing meaningful replies, and I could swear people go crazy over your attentive gaze. Some of you are natural, others are really good actors (no one is to be judged here). Your patience and warm personality real or not sells, people could purchase anything from your business if you are the one assisting, which can be a boomer if you are aiming for leaving someone else in charge and doing the counts behind the scenes, knowing you are one of the best sellers.

You could own a coffee store given how good you are at building spaces where people will gather and feel safe. Not only that, you can create beautiful settings that will make others immerse in a new world like the tea room from a dollhouse or within a Monet painting. You will succeed at making them distance themselves from real world's problems, thus they could be more open to speak about something that feels so far away. To be honest, I don't think everyone that chose this pile would identify with this business idea. For some serving, cooking and simping chai latte over the daily gossips feels like a waste of their potential. You guys are right, another part of group which's artsy in nature is more aligned with fashion, beauty, and textiles. But I swear you all have the potential to manifest large amounts of money in one sale. I didn't have to crack my head open thinking about what type of business could allow that as designing is your strong suit. You are a master when it comes to making colors, fabrics. and whatnot march. A small part of this group loves sweets and how food can make others happy, therefore you could settle down for having a bakery and specializing on wedding cakes. However, some of you are contemplating the idea of running a drift or wedding dress store. For the ones willing to work with the brides, I assure your business will do well. You have the patience of a Greek hero going against the gods' will, so I see you nailing sales that took plenty of your time and energy.

I hope this reading was to your liking♡. I'm offering paid readings about this topic here. You can find more free content on my blog.

🌱Pile 2🌱

I didn't know "giving a fuck" was a talent until I drew your cards, dear pile 2. You are strong people, you don't care if others start hating you for doing your job. Like 5% of the people who picked this pile dreamed with being a hitman and go ahead guys, you'll do great. Now, a large percent of you have questionable morals, allowing you to work in fields where you can turn corrupted and earn wealth as a politician, lawyer, or even a doctor. I know those are career choices, but the real business for you is owning agencies, institutes, clinics, and funeral homes. I am not even making the latter up. Some of you won't care about the taboo-ish nature of your work. You approach business with level-headedness and practicality, thus if it pays wells as any other job related to humans needs... dealing with the deads is easier than their family but you will still do the job or you will hire someone to do it eventually. Curiously, you are great at making people feel better. You aren't that talkative, but you know how to make others laugh with your silly jokes, pulling weird faces, providing them with food or water and much needed space.

Some of you are radicals and into activism. You have plenty of pent-up anger and aggressiveness inside of you that you will directed at facing opposing forces. You might start a charitable cause and talk people into volunteering. Yeah, I know it won't give you money or not so much, but hear me out! You could own an institute for people with special needs or another for learning languages. There's a high chance you might end up working with foreigners, what gave you that business idea when you thought on how to help them improve their lifestyle. Some of you could be interested in farming or owning a supermarket. You would feel inclined to hire immigrants regardless of the consequences. Actually, what are consequences to you? You don't fucking care. You see people suffering, you help them. There's no other logic in your brain.

I hope this reading was to your liking♡. I'm offering paid readings about this topic here. You can find more free content on my blog.

🌱Pile 3🌱

Ok, guys, I love how unbothered you are when it comes to your line of work and what people have to say about it. Unlike pile 2, you are not interested in top positions that might lead to corruption, dirty money and living a very intense life. You are the complete opposite, you are humble and like to contribute to the community. You have a great intuition and observation skills, so upon checking your town or the place you want to install your business in, you will know what spot in the market needs to be filled right away. You can also tell what the community's needs are; you are not afraid of getting your hands dirty, so you could feel inclined to run a fish or convenience store. I feel like you want to belong, so not only your business won't cover a necessity, but also will turn into something traditional, even "iconic" for your neighbourhood. Is a music store still a thing? I feel like a small part of this group longs to have one.

You have all what it takes to manifest a long-lasting business. You are highly talented at nurturing and you might see your business like a "baby". It's not just your money source, but something to care about and fight for. Some of you might be interested in running an esoteric shop, where people is going to get their cards read or purchase herbs, incienses, candles, and so on. Mostly, this pile wants to have an unique business or for it to be the sole provider of something. E.g, you might own the only bookstore with coffee services at town. Also, I believe some of you will settle for moving out to a town or the countryside and start a business over there.

I hope this reading was to your liking♡. I'm offering paid readings about this topic here. You can find more free content on my blog.

🌱Pile 4🌱

Hello, guys! This pile is slightly different from the rest since I feel like going straight to the point and sparing unnecessary details, but I might annoy you as I'm not leaving nothing unsaid. You are known for being busy and most times you seem to be in a hurry. You are always working on something, even in high school your friends knew you were too invested on your studies and earning money than hanging out with people your age. You probably like technology and travelling, so you could own a business like a travel agency (in your country or another), transport or event planning company. In all honesty, you might end up running all three of them. The term "workaholic" does not make justice to what you are, but I will call you a genius. You were born to steal the spotlight by your innovative style at the moment of giving birth to your ideas into the real world. You can mix all your interests together and create a new business that will leave people gawking, like an app who allows users to match with vacation spots instead of people or something like that?

Some of you will rather work with tourists, renting cars, boats, and properties so their basic needs are covered. I don't know how many of you are sporty but you are adamant about turning one of your interests/hobbies in your business. You might run your own indoor rock climbing centre. If you were to ask me for specifications on what's your talent, I would say you are a natural when it comes to businesses and you hold such control over your emotions. You put your sole focus on work, nothing can distract you from achieving your goals. Not even your family, so I can see you making up to your dear ones with expensive gifts or generous check after you missed an important family event again.

I hope this reading was to your liking♡. I'm offering paid readings about this topic here. You can find more free content on my blog.

[lovelyiida]

THE RACE TO WEDDING BELLS ❤︎︎

PROLOGUE: BAKUGO’S MIDLIFE CRISIS

❥ SYNOPSIS: as the years went by... bakugo realized that he was the last to get married. the days grew cold and the nights turned lonely. bakugo wants to marry, but he doesn't really feel like falling in love. at least he has his trustee secretary!

implied fem reader, aged-up! Pro-hero MHA characters over the age of 27, vulgar language, suggestive wording, and content.

❥ CHAPTERS

❥ MASTERLIST

❥ JOIN TAG LIST!

WORDS: 0.9K

Katsuki Bakugo was widely regarded as the greatest hero of all time. He had it all: striking looks, immense strength, an unwavering attitude, and a fortune to rival that of a king. Despite his many accolades, Bakugo was plagued by one thing…

loneliness.

However, he never saw it as a problem. In fact, he cherished his solemn solitude more than anything else. It was his personal sanctuary, a place where he could find solace from the world. He would often come home to the sound of nothing but white noise and strip off his clothes, the sounds of absolutely nothing roaming through is head.

feeling the heavy weight of slumber seep into his being, stumbling towards his bedroom. The sensation of water trickling down his skin in the shower was the only sound he could hear, and he relished in it. As he collapsed onto his pillow, he was met with absolute silence. The stillness he had created was something he found comfort in, something he loved.

closing his eyes, he’s met with nothing.

Absolutely, nothin’

Bakugo absolutely, loved being alone.

That was until everyone had to shove it in his face…

“Dude, c’mon! It’s about that time in your life where you start to settle! Find a gal and have some rascals—create a bloodline and stuff!” Said his trustee friend, Kirishima.

Bakugo currently sat down within the four walls of Kirishima’s lovely home. Bakugo scowls as he looks around the place. Colorful toys litter every square foot of the house.

The lovely home bustling with energy and filled with vibrant toys scattered across every square foot. a total of not one, not two, but three lively kids running and jumping off the walls—their laughter echoing through the halls. Bakugo lets out a scowl as he surveyed the chaos around him.

As he looked over at his best friend Kirishima, Bakugo couldn't help but notice the evidence of his friend's exhaustion. His once-white t-shirt was now covered in marker blotches and food stains, and dark circles had formed under his eyes, a testament to his sleepless nights. Despite his fatigue, Kirishima's toothy grin shone bright, and Bakugo couldn't help but feel a sense of admiration for his friend's strength and resilience.

“You look like shit,” Bakugo rudely complements.

That once toothy grin curves down into a frown, “listen—believe it or not, children actually need to be taken care of and can’t be left alone for more than an hour, especially mines.” Kirishima directs his thumb behind him, directing to his children, which were currently drawing on the wall.

Bakugo rolls his eyes, “right—when are you gonna come back to the agency? Sick n’tired of doing all this shit on my own.”

“Dude, I’m awol for another…2 months?” He questions himself, “after me and the wife had kid three, I registered for maternity leave remember? Gotta help around, make memories, rest!” He laughs.

Oh, that laugh pissed him off.

“Rest? All you do is fuckin rest! Rest and fuck, and get your girl pregnant…unbelievable.” Bakugo sighs, crossing his arms tight against his chest.

“You wish you could rest and fuck like I could, it’s not my fault I’m irresistible~” Kirishima coos. This earns a dry chuckle from Bakugo.

“You know what is your fault? Not putting on a goddamn rubber,” He chuckled. This earns a laugh out of Kirishima.

“That I agree with, only downfall to having so many kids is never getting the time to go wild. Like, honeymoon phase wild.” Kirishima gives his friend an evil smile.

“Wha?” Bakugo say’s in confusion.

“The honeymoon phase, y’know? Can’t get your hands off each other—leads to the first child, usually the one that’s actually planned.” Kirishima says, taking a sip of his drink.

Kirishima quickly glances back at his wife, who's busy tending to one of their kids who just bumped their head on the couch. With a mischievous twinkle in his eye, Kirishima slowly lets out a deep sigh of contentment. His eyes gleaming with satisfaction, he spreads his legs wide in the comfortable chair, relishing in the soft cushioning that cradles his back.

“Dude, can’t even describe the things that woman has done to me back in those days. Easily busted six loads a week! But once that first child came around, I can barely get any, currently on a holidays-only-basis…” Kirishima says sorrowfully.

This makes Bakugo burst into laughter.

“That’s what your dumbass gets!” He cackles, holding onto his stomach for support.

“Dumbass!”

Both of the men’s eyes snap towards the voice, they watch as one of Kirishima’s kids runs over towards their father.

“Hey, language!” Kirishima says sternly. This only makes the kid laugh, holding their arms out, Kirishima picks their kid up and placed them on his lap.

“I get that you’re in your prime and stuff, but you’ve been in your prime for 8 years now. You’re 27, it’s okay to enter into a mid-life crisis and re-evaluate your life purpose.” Kirishima says unfazed, picking his child up and starts to make them bounce up and down, cooing at them sheepishly.

This takes Bakugo aback.

“Midlife crisis? Why the fuck would I be in midlife crisis, dumbass?–“

“Fuck!”

“Hey! Stop it!” Kirishima yells at his child again, which makes them laugh out once more. Holding his child, he stands up. Signaling that the conversation is over, and that Bakugo’s visit has come to an end.

in confusion…

“Get a life, get laid.”

GAHHHHH THANKS FOR 500 FOLLWERS!! FINALLY BACK FROM FINALS!!

Decided to celebrate with my first ever series on the account! Thank you all for the support!! If you’d like to be tagged in the next part fill out the tag list form on my page!

— 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐲𝐢𝐢𝐝𝐚 ❤︎︎

[chunky-lobster-soup]

I absolutely ADORE linked maze ❤️

So here’s some hcs

-time says Canada wrong on purpose and everyone thinks he just doesn’t know how to say it correctly (he does it just pisses off Navi and he thinks that’s funny)

-twilight forgets that he’s not allowed to do certain things as a human so if he gets happy he’ll just scream at the top of his lungs for 2 seconds until he remembers that he’s not a dog

-wind had a phase where he would not eat any vegetables and his grandma had to threaten to tell the hero of time that he wasn’t eating his veggies. He later discovers that time doesn’t eat his vegetables either

-wild tried to make sky eat a rock. I will not elaborate

-sky had to fake eat a rock for wild sake. I will also not elaborate

-bunny’s favorite food is apple pie! I will elaborate on this! He grew up on an apple orchard and it reminds him of home!

-hyrule drank expired milk once and koridai had to watch in horror as he did so

-four gives me the vibe that only one allergic to hamsters can give. So four is allergic to hamsters but only hamsters

[jinxs-gf]

Dating Kaldur Headcanons

Kaldur’ahm x Reader

no warnings!

word count: 700+

a.n. I wasn’t sure what to do here so I just went for a general dating thing!

there’s a glaringly obvious thing we need to address first.

Kaldur is THE most loyal person you’ll ever meet. romantic and non-romantic wise

you don’t gotta worry about anything with him 🙏🏽🙏🏽😭 what about him screams ‘you have to worry about me getting too cozy with someone else…’

NOTHING!!!! he’s loyal and devoted to you and makes it obvious

so obvious it hurts. so obvious the team makes fun of him for it

he’s a serious/blunt man because he cares. it’s his way of making sure his loved ones are safe (and others: take for example, the people he saves??? the whole reason he’s a hero is bc he’s trying to protect people). he orders the team around and tells them when they’re wrong because he wants what’s best for them

now you’re a person he doesn’t just care about, he loves you. you’re his dear, his light in very dark times (this man has been through it). so when it comes to you, there’s two sides to this:

1. he bosses you around if you don’t take care of yourself.

he uses his stern voice on you (very hot btw) if you haven’t eaten when you should’ve.

“Did you eat?” He sits next to you on the couch, presenting the dinner he’s cooked.

You stay quiet. And he knows what that means.

“You barely had breakfast this morning.” Your silence continues.

Gently, he pinches your chin between his fingers, “you can’t keep doing this to yourself, love.”

“I don’t do it on purpose! The day goes by too fast and I forget.”

“So you don’t feel the empty space in your stomach? You can’t hear it when it’s asking to you for food?”

You shrug.

He squeezes your chin softly, an action of affection and worry. He brings up a forkful of food, “eat.”

In his mind it’s:

“I don’t mind taking care of you, I love it in fact. But you need to know how to care for yourself when needed. I can’t have something happen to you. I won’t let it happen.”

2. he’s very very soft with you. he’s stuck in the honeymoon phase of the relationship, it’ll never end for him

he doesn’t usually show much affection with a lot of people around. he’s not too big on PDA

which isn’t to say he won’t be affectionate outside of your private time, he WILL be. it’s just small touches:

forehead/hand kisses (oh how he’s a huge fan of hand kisses, just like the proper gentleman), and of course standard lip kisses. they’re sweet, typically short, but sososo good. the two of you make the most out of those tiny kisses

you’ll also have the hand on your back at all times. that man will not let go. trust me.

if you’re not by his side or close enough that allows him to do this, he’ll seek you out. you tease him for it but he’ll simply tell you it’s to make sure you don’t do something stupid (he’s teasing, he just wants to be with you 24/7)

they’re small but meaningful touches

(which make you go crazy)

you’ll usually lean into him, hand on his chest (he sweats a little every time)

so you’re not “theme park line couple” you’re just…‘keeps it private’ couple!

the team doesn’t see him behind closed doors, which is where his lovey-dovey/certified teddy bear comes out

but when they DO see it? they can’t take him seriously as the team leader anymore :( (jk it makes them respect him more, they just like to tease)

Kaldur’s all neck kisses, cuddles (he’s always in protector mode so he likes being the big spoon for your benefit, but he admits later that he loves being the little spoon…), arms wrapped around each other’s waists, setting your legs over his thighs while y’all are sitting on the couch…slow dancing!

they find a way for you to be able to breathe/see underwater, which means so much to him because that’s where his home is!

he loves spending quality time with you in Atlantis.

swimming around, teaching you tips and tricks, having races (he lets you win every time)

kisses kisses kisses.

and a few make outs here and there…

he also loves getting massages. he never outright asks for them because he doesn’t want to “bother” you but he can admit that he needs them.

he genuinely feels like he’s in heaven when you give him a nice, thorough neck/shoulder massage. he’ll kiss you all over the face afterwards, praising you for being so good to him.

that’s all I got for now!

if y’all request something expect it to be short formed content like this HC. as well as blurbs, random thoughts on (character) x reader, etc.

[sonic-fankid-showdown]

Poll 3, Round 1.

About Geode: (by @oddogoblino) In an attempt to impress The Eggman, a mad yet inexperienced scientist stole Gerald Robotnik's blueprints of Project SHADOW and tried to improve on it to make the definitive true ultimate lifeform to defeat Sonic once and for all. To add insult to injury, the eggsupporter had chosen to use some of Sonic's DNA along with Shadow's, that'd been found from battle aftermaths, to make his creation. Before their prototype was even finished though, GUN had found out about Project REMASTERED. Rouge told Shadow about it before GUN could do a raid though so he could handle this personal matter how he found fit. Well, Shadow went and destroyed the lab of course, though he wasn't prepared to see just how early in development the project was. He was expecting something full grown but all he found was the prototype barely in the infant phase in its development. Being unable to just kill a baby or adopt this all powerful baby off to an unsuspecting family (and also being unknowingly motivated by Black Arms instincts to keep the species alive), Shadow decided to take the little hoglet in as his own. At first, Shadow was too caught up in caring for Geode off instinct to think about telling anyone about him, but just a few months in and Geode already began showing his defects in creation and Shadow turned to Sonic and Tails for help. Now, Geode has inhibitor rings to keep his chaos energy at a stable level and has been growing up comfortably from home to home, adventure to adventure. Geode himself though, by the time he's 16, is a very quiet, introverted, affectionate, emotional, compassionate, and sort of awkward character. He's not good at social but he cares about others and is very forgiving when hes wronged and has decent emotional intelligence. He's a "be mindful of how you use the water if the cup's half empty" kinda thinker. He's very curious on just about anything new he discovers. Others can think of him as being a bit simple minded sometimes though. People tend to overwhelm him easily so he finds most comfort in spending time with Chao. If he's not on a mission, he's a bit of a clumsy puppy of a guy. But, if Shadow puts 2 thoughts into something and Sonic puts none, then Geode only puts 1 thought into everything he does. He's a pacifist who can't bring himself to hurt living beings, he can fight nonsentient robots just fine but otherwise he prefers to trap any living enemies in whatever he can get his hands on. He's a stealth type and has a habit of stealing artifacts and other magical things he deems too powerful to let be taken even by his dads. He can see chaos auras 24/7 to a heightened sense, being able to see the chaos energy even in plants along with being able to see the chaos energy left behind from those deceased (aka, ghosts). He's faster than Sonic but he's weaker than Shadow. He loves the world around him very dearly, having Sonic's passion for life/the world and Shadow's determination to fight for himself. Geode also has picked up mechanics as a small hobby though he's not very passionate about it.

About Brutus: (by @susahnasomething) A genetically enhanced clone of Shadow (mixed with Sonic's DNA) Brutus was made and raised by Eclipse the Darkling, who hoped to bring back the black arms by making a bunch of super powerful clones. This was not good for her. Eventually the heroes defeated Eclipse, and Shadow rescued her (not her clone siblings sadly, cause SOMEONE DECIDED THAT THERE SHALL ONLY BE ONE) and was then raised by sonadow. Brutus is a dark and conceited girl, reminding everyone of past shadow. Who firmly believes she cannot be killed nor destroyed, so she tends to throw herself into danger. (shes the ultimate lifeform nothing can hurt her!!) . . . totally!

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

Bro, you forgot that Nathalie is weakened and sick because overused broken miraculous. Her condition is terrible that even make her paralyzed, always cough and become more paler

(Post this is in response to)

Bro, you forgot that Nathalie is really active in season five and perfectly capable of working around her disability until her condition reaches its final phase.

Evolution takes place the same day as Risk and Strikeback, meaning that season five starts with Nathalie well enough to leave the country and order Adrien around. Yes, she coughs a lot and needs a mobility aid at this point, but that doesn't stop her from wanting to be part of the action:

Gabriel: (on-call) Nathalie, Ladybug has finally faulted! Taking risks has paid off! I have nearly all of the Miraculous, including the one of Evolution, granting the power of time travel! Nathalie: (on the train) Gabriel, wait for me. As soon as I'm home, we'll—

And coming up with plots:

Nathalie: There is another way to use the Miraculous of the Rabbit. (Gabriel gasps.) You could go back to a time before Emilie used the damaged Peacock Miraculous. You can save your wife, Gabriel! (presents a flash drive) This holds the information on how to repair the magic jewel so that Emilie never becomes ill using it. You would just need to give the drive to yourself. (hands Gabriel the drive) Make the right choice. It's not too late!

And in Multiplication - which takes place weeks later - she's still well enough to plot with the villains and play door guard:

Scene: Interior, the Agreste mansion, in Gabriel's atelier. Gabriel is discussing something with Tomoe, in presence of Nathalie. While Tomoe is examining an Alliance ring, Adrien enters the room and interrupts them. Adrien: Father. Nathalie: (blocking the door) It’s not the time, Adrien.

And in Passion - which takes place even later- she's well enough to pin Gabriel to the freaking kitchen table:

Nathalie:(grabs Gabriel's hand, twists it behind his back and pushes him onto the table) Don't ever do that again! I came to this house to hunt magical artifacts for you and Emilie. I became your bodyguard, your right hand woman, your friend, and even more. But this is all over. You used to do this out of love for Emilie, but now, you're only doing it out of madness, and the only reason I'm still here is to protect Adrien from you!

She then comes up with a plan to have Gabriel akumatize her so that she can go out and get the miraculous for herself in order to make her own wish because akumas are magical healers that remove disabilities for as long as they're in effect:

Scene 1:

Emilie:(from the video) I'm counting on you, Nathalie. I know he's as stubborn as they come and, it won't be easy to convince him to stop chasing the Miraculous. (coughs) But you have to, for Adrien. He's going to need you both and I know you'll take care of him like a mother. Nathalie: (crying) I'm sorry, I failed you. But I promise you, I will get the Miraculous before he does. I won't let him recreate the world in the image of his madness!

Scene 2:

Gabriel:(sighs) Emilie, I don't know what to do anymore. I don't know how to go on alone. Nathalie: You're not alone. (walks up to him) Gabriel: Nathalie. Nathalie: A long time ago, I promised I'd bring you all the magical items you would need, but I was never able to bring you Ladybug and Cat Noir's Miraculous. It's time I truly delivered on my promise. Gabriel: No, Nathalie, you've already risked too much! Nathalie: It's time to risk it all. Akumatize me.

And in Revelation - the 20th episode of the season! - she's well enough to go around the Agreste mansion and send pictures to Lila so that our new big bad knows everything while the heroes' stay in the dark. (I don't blame Nathalie for this, btw. Akuma powers and all that. I'm just pointing out that she was still well enough to get into the basement without Gabriel noticing during an akuma fight.)

So what argument are you trying to make here? That Nathalie was too disabled to be a good person, but being evil in spite of her disability was fine? That feels really insulting to the disabled.

Nathalie's condition worsens as the season goes on. Only in the final does she reach a point where she's too weak to do anything and only in the final does she actually try to stop Gabriel, which is why I called her actions pathetic fan service. It's not Nathalie that's pathetic, it's her writing, which waited until she couldn't actually do anything to let her "try" to stop the plot that she's known about and actively supported all season long. Somehow, people actually bought it, too, which blows my mind!

Her going crossbow hunting isn't the culmination of a season where Nathalie desperately tried to stop Gabriel and free Adrien. It's her one good deed after a season spent supporting Gabriel in every meaningful way in spite of her supposed turn to the side of good. Nathalie is smart, powerful, and clever. If she's really turned to the good side, then Gabriel would have been doomed. But she didn't actually turn to the good side, the writers wouldn't let her, which is why I cannot stand her character in season five. They should have just let her stay a villain and removed the senti complication. If they did that, then literally nothing about her writing would need to change. She could still be nice to Adrien while keeping all of Gabriel's secrets. Those are actions that fit a villain way better than whatever Nathalie was supposed to be in season five.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: The Moon (pt. 3)

Lunicurrent - related to changes in currents that depend on the moon's phases.

Luniform - moon-shaped.

Lunula - something shaped like a crescent or half-moon; especially the pale area at the base of the fingernail.

Mooncalf - a fool, dolt, monster, or aborted fetus.

Moonglade - the bright reflection of moonlight on a body of water.

Moonraker - the top-most sails on some old sailing ships.

Novilunar - of the new moon.

Plenilunar - of the full moon.

The Moon...

Is the Earth’s only “natural” satellite.

Is moving away from the Earth.

Is 27% the size of the Earth.

Orbits the Earth every 27.32 days.

NOTES

There are 2-5 lunar eclipses yearly.

You would weigh 1/6th of your Earth weight on the Moon.

We only ever see half of the Moon at a time, even at “full moon”.

The light reflecting off the Earth and onto the Moon is called “earthshine” or “earthlight”.

In many languages, as in English, the word for “moon” is cognate with the word for “month”.

It takes the moon 29.53 days to cycle back to the same “visual” phase. This is called a “synodic month”.

A lunar calendar is a calendar based on cycles of the Moon's phases (synodic months), in contrast to solar calendars based on the solar year.

The Moon illusion is an optical illusion which causes the Moon to appear larger near the horizon than it does higher up in the sky.

Sometimes it’s possible to see the moon rabbit, or the shadowy face of the Man in the Moon created by lunar maria.

In the northern hemisphere, when the Moon is waxing, it resembles a letter “D”, and when waning a letter “C”. In the southern hemisphere this is reversed.

About 40% of the Moon is never visible from the Earth. This is referred to as the Dark Side of the Moon, even though it isn’t always dark.

Every month or so, the “old moon” sets for the last time as a sliver in the eastern sky. For about 3 days it travels invisibly alongside the sun until, magically born anew, it appears on the third day at sunset, on the western horizon. This course not only sets the moon in direct opposition to the sun, it also gives rise to various resurrection myths in which the hero spends 3 days in the underworld.

IN THE ARTS

In some myths, the lunar deity is represented as female (Greek, Chinese), while in others it is male (Mesopotamian , Germanic, Japanese).

In mythology, the moon deity is sometimes a friend, ally or consort of the sun deity, and sometimes their enemy.

In many mythical stories, a simple character mistakes the reflection of the Moon for a round cheese.

The Moon is the 18th card of the Major Arcana of the Tarot. It represents the mysterious terrain of the Shadow self, illuminated by the guiding light of the conscious.

Shakespeare calls the moon the “moist star” because it creates the tides, and also casts it as inconstant (because of its phases) and thieving (because it steals its light from the sun).

Georges Méliès shot the first science fiction film, Le Voyage dans la Lune (A Trip to the Moon) in 1902.

The Lunar Society of Birmingham, consisting of eminent 18th century intellectuals, was so named because its members met on nights with a full moon. The moonlight made their journey back home easier and safer.

Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata was originally titled, Sonata quasi una fantasia, and only acquired its popular name after his death.

Source ⚜ More: Writing Notes & References ⚜ The Moon ⚜ Word Lists

[gemini526sdumptruck]

Inanimate Magic Insanity AU

Explanation Post

Can’t believe episode 17 shook me enough to make me genuinely redraw an AU I made when I was 11 but here we are.

So yeah, with II coming to an end this month, I got nostalgic and decided I wanted to modernize an old II magical girl AU I made in 2016 called "Inanimate Magic Insanity", and try to actually make a story out of it!

I wanted to share a few of the designs I came up with, so here's Lightbulb, Paper, Marshmallow, and Apple, since they were kinda "main characters" in the original AU.

I'm gonna do my best to describe it, because this rework is this in a bit of an early phase lol.

Onto the actual AU itself (Notice: Very mild spoilers for II 2 Episodes 16 and 17, just in case):

So essentially the story takes place in a currently unnamed object city. Everything there was perfectly normal, everyone was doing their own thing and whatnot. But then one day, a mysterious force came and started attacking the city (atm I'm not 100% sure on what the "monsters of the week" are, but I'm thinking that they're like robots and robot phones, related to Meeple).

Enter one MePhone 4, who lives somewhere in town in a seemingly regular house. He saw all of this happening and basically thought "what if I could do something about this". So this led to him creating the heroes (I like to think he made them Powerpuff Girls style lol)! 19 (later 20) objects who would be normal civilians most of the time, but when there's trouble, they'll have the ability to turn into superheroes!

Little does anyone in the city know, that MePhone 4's normal looking house hides a super expansive, high-tech HQ which is sorta like "Mission Control". This is where the heroes are told and given their missions, where they eat, sleep, and hang out. Basically their home. It's very important to MePhone that nobody outside of the hero team discovers "Mission Control".

The kinds of missions the heroes go on range from simple public service to actually fighting the big bad villains. One group of heroes might be saving a kitten from a tree, another group might be fighting the villain of the week! Outside of going on missions, the heroes also get to do things in the city. Like hang out at the park, or go to stores, get jobs if they want to. They just can't tell anybody that they're the heroes or tell anyone about "Mission Control".

The Heroes (really gotta think of a team name for them lol):

Lightbulb- Power of Electricity

Paintbrush- Power of Colors

Paper- Power of Creativity (basically he has a magic pencil and whatever he draws with it comes to life)

Marshmallow- Power of Sweets

Apple- Power of Truth (that was her power in the OG idk lol)

Test Tube- Power of Science (and to a lesser extent Technology)

Bomb- Power of Fire

Tissues- Power of the Cold

Cheesy- Power of Comedy

Cherries- Power of Duplication

Microphone- Power of Music

Balloon- Power of Air

Suitcase- Power of Safety Nets

Nickel- Power of Metal

Knife- Power of Strength

Soap- Power of Bubbles

Yin Yang- Power of Light Manipulation

Lifering- Power of the Sea

Clover- Power of Nature

Bot- Team Mascot (they were still built by Test Tube in this AU, Bot joins the team later on)

As for all the other characters, they're either civilians living in the city or antagonists. They weren't created by MePhone in this AU. These guys are real.

Some notable ones atm are:

Baseball (he would befriend Suitcase, Nickel, and Balloon)

Fan (he's a huge fan of the heroes, he would spend his time theorizing on what the monsters are and who the heroes really are)

Goo (would eventually befriend Bot)

And yeah, that's most of what I have rn! Will add more if I come up with anything.

Character designs coming soon.

[freshlyrage]

Running Like Water

Chapter 30

pairing: Javier Peña x OFC (written as xReader)

fic warnings: NSFW Explicit Smut (18+ MDNI) language, strained family relationships, mentions of drug abuse, discussions of insecurities and body image issues, daddy and mommy issues

fic tags: Best friends younger sister, Life-long crush, Friends to lovers, Unrequited love, slow burn, Push and Pull, Small Town Dynamics, Secret Relationships, latina MC, Fluff and Angst, OFC!Jessica Alba face claim, sorry Lorraine I'm bringing you into this, Time jumps, 2 year age gap, pre-canon

word count: 5k

Masterlist

Genie gives you a sly smile when she sees your smirk when you sit back down on the couch.

Javier trails behind you, excusing himself to the kitchen to cook. You’re not sure what you’re doing. Honestly, you’re probably going to regret this. Fuck it. It felt too good to hold him. You tasted him, lips pressed to his neck. Touching someone you love,  what a dangerous game. You’ll stay here tonight, then you’ll make a decision on what the next week looks like. A personal test that will probably have Jayla yelling your ear off about how bad of an idea this was. 

 Still you watch him from the love seat that faces the doorway to the kitchen. Seeing him move in the kitchen with deft, wiping his brow, clenching his jaw and looking oh so tortured. Your legs crossed, preventing any silly ideas you might conjure up from the beers Genie kept feeding you. 

Everyone in the house seemed to be in good spirits. Even your mother who had been housing a glass of wine. Everyone was a bit tipsy by ten. The girls asleep atop coats on Chuchos bed down the hall. They’ll be woken from their slumber at midnight to ravage through the gifts under the tree. 

Javier comes in alas, two beers in hand and beelines straight toward the empty seat next to you. Settling down, legs spread, offering up a beer for you. Your cheeks redden at the gesture, feeling your brother's knowing gaze. “Thank you.” You whisper, nudging him. 

He doesn’t respond and just shifts to get more comfortable. Settling into the couch, shoulder to shoulder with knees pressed against each other. He could give you space but he decided against it. The closeness sends a shock to your core and you wish to forget it. He clears his throat and looks ahead at his father who also had a knowing smile at the interaction.

“It’s great to finally have both of you home.” Chucho nods. “Through all the ups and downs I’m just happy to see the four of you— Frankie, Genevieve, Andrea and Javi still friends. Just glad you guys are over your marijuana phase.”

The room erupts in laughter, you put your hands up in defense. “I never! Never smoked in here.”

Frankie cackled, “Yeah because Javi never let you, he was all— she’s too young for that shit.” The living room swirled with another round  of laughs at the spot on impression of Javier. 

“Wait… you guys smoked pot?” Your mother asked, eyes wide. Devoid of anger, just shock. The four of you grinned. 

“It was the seventies.” Genie comments, cringing and bringing her water to her lips. She had been the only one of us completely sober. Your mind began to wander. James shook his head.

“Listen, they smoked pot and look how well off they all are. Beautiful family and two thriving salons. School teacher in New York City. And an American hero.” He butts in. Everyone in the room nods, your brother and his wife leaning into each other with smiles. Your eyes fall to your lap and slowly ride up from Javi’s knee to his face. A frown taut on his lips. 

“Don’t look so down Javi. What are your next steps now that you’re here?” Your mom slurs, gesturing for him to speak. Her gold bangles sounded like sleigh bells from hell. You suck your teeth, feeling him tense up next to you. An American Hero. It strokes something in him and you feel him closing in on himself beside you. 

“Uh- I just-I haven’t”

“Mami, he just got home today.” 

She waved a hand for you to scratch. “Ay nena, I’m talking to Javier here.” 

You fought the urge to roll your eyes, seeing him struggle to adjust to all this attention. He must have spent a lot of time talking about anything but himself. It would be a lot for anyone. To come home after three traumatic years to pestering questions from drunk elders. You see his eyes, nervous and unlike himself. You resist the urge to place your hand on his knee. He glances at your eyes then down at your lips swiftly before focusing on your mother again. Your brain short circuits at that, severely confused by his decision to fuck up your plan to keep your panties on tonight. 

 “Uhm-ehem.” He clears his throat. “I’m going to take it slow. Hopefully find someone, start a family. All in due time I suppose.” He chuckles and your mother nods curtly. 

“Well…” And when your mother begins a statement this way you have to brace yourself for complete and utter nonsense. Shoot. “Lorrianne is still single only–”

“We do not speak the devil's name in this house.” Chucho cuts. And thank god he knew how to dial a room because still you all drunkenly laugh together. Your mother cackled, repeating that it was a joke. Some part of you feels like it’s not. 

Still you laugh anyway.

Your mother is too tipsy to question why she’s now riding home with your brother. So is your brother but Genie—she’s winking at you while she pulls out of the parking lot. And Don Chucho doesn’t seem to be bothered. He squeezes your shoulder while you sit at the kitchen table, watching Javier rinse off the dishes. 

Truthfully, you’re a bit more tipsy than you thought. There’s something about stepping out into that brisk December air that really hits you with the reality that you had been fed beers for the past five hours. 

“You heading to bed?” 

“Yes, happy you're home. Don’t do anything stupid.” He whispers the last part in your ear and kisses your cheek before exiting. “Merry Christmas!” He calls from the hallway, a bit slurred. 

The entire night had been filled with stolen glances and knees pressing against each other. Not a direct word shared but now you were alone in the kitchen. The tipsier you got, the hotter your cheeks grew. Staring at his back while the stream of the water he uses occupies the silence, you cross your legs. He clears his throat, like he’s waiting to see who breaks this game first.

 But honestly, all you could do is stare at the way the ripples of his back muscles and shoulder blades stretch his shirt. 

Christ, you think while sipping the cure to your state. Water.

Luckily the pressing questions died down into a session of nostalgic storytelling. You try not to be bothered by your mother not being able to recall one dear moment from your childhood. It seemed everyone had one about you except her. 

It made you think of the bee earrings that catch dust on your vanity. You are suddenly too sad to speak. 

He clears his throat and turns. Arms crossed, making his biceps bulge in his shirt. Fuck, he was sexier than before. And he’s looking at you that same way. Like it’s taking a lot from him to not just spread you open right there in the kitchen. Your stomach pits at the distant memory of your breasts rubbing against the kitchen counter while he fucked some sense into you. Pretty little wife. 

“I’m going to head out for a smoke. My clothes are unpacked yet, there should still be some old shirts in the drawers for you to change into.” 

His words are like a splash of cold water, he exits the kitchen and the front door follows. Your brain barely caught up with anything he said. You were faced with the reality once again. You were going to sleep in Javier’s bed, and you promised yourself it was going to be casual. 

Good god, why do I set such unrealistic expectations for myself?

You get up anyway, relieved that he’s allowing you privacy to change. You think if he was in the room while doing so you might’ve urged to just take it off himself. 

You expected there to be more sentiment when you walked into his room after so long. After the last time.

It was the last time you had sex. It was a memory you liked to not look back on. Your last time being spent with him comforting you after having a panic attack. It was when you told him that you never thought you’d have a healthy sex life. Yet it was so much more than that. You were overcome with the trauma of your first relationship and the blistering reality of being so in love, that you couldn’t bear to watch him leave. 

You’re back in that same spot, yet the room is empty, filled with boxes and suitcases. 

You feel nostalgia run down your throat with a swallow. But ultimately are left with yearning to make more revelations here. 

His bed was ruffled like he napped during the day and he had a suitcase open with clothing jumbled. You know he said to check his drawer but the smell of his cologne enticed you far too much to just throw on some old threadbare shirt that probably smells like a closet. 

You pick a green t-shirt. A favorite of his, you remember him wearing it at Xavier’s memorial day barbecue a few years back. With a sting at your knee, you bend down to grab it before striping yourself of your sweater dress. Stockings off and tossed on the floor. With just your panties and hardened nipples grazing the thin material, you climb onto his bed. Dazed and determined to not let your pussy get the best of you. 

The door creaked open and he came through. Hooded eyes blinking in disbelief. Maybe being perched on the bed with your thighs on display wasn’t the smartest. Perhaps shuffling under the covers would have been preferable to keeping his or your hands to yourself. He clears his throat and gives you a nod. 

“You still smoke.” You comment. You never liked it, far more research has been done and you hate for him to get himself sick over something so trivial. 

He clenches his jaw, eyes stuck on the curve of your breasts and nipples for a moment before he bends down to grab a pair of sleep pants from his suitcase. “Yes.” He turns, the unzipping of his pants makes you shift on your heels. Dropping his pants, the backs of his thighs and black boxers in your sight. Still, he respects your earlier requests of no funny business and he pulls on his new pants without a lingering second of sexual suggestion. 

Much to your dismay he keeps his shirt on. “It’s still really bad for you.” You whisper, changing your seating position— knees to your chest now, back against the headboard. Javier turns with a small smile on his face observing your things tossed on his floor. 

“Wanting things that are bad for you is healthy.” He murmurs, bending down with a soft groan. Folding his pants and placing them back in his suitcase. He looks up into your eyes, “So is wanting something that’s good for you. Makes us human.” He gets into bed with another grunt, old man. 

You nod, hands holding your knees. Feeling your wound throb. You bite back a wince. Javier’s eyes are on your knee the second he feels you next to him. Creased brow, he takes his big fingers around your wrist and reveals the injury to him. In an instant, he’s manhandling you, still delicate and considerate of your stinging knee. He moves your legs across his lap. “How’d you get this?” He thumbs the surrounding area, inside of your knee and you throb. More ways than one. 

“Fell in the subway.” 

He grumbles, stroking and soothing your skin. It’s so much contact in one moment. You’re overcome with the urge to cry and tell him that every time you’ve ever felt pain you wished he were there. Any tiny cut, any feeling hurt, you wished to come home to tell him about it and curse the world together. 

God bless you, you’re an honest drunk. 

“It was a brutal fall, ripped my stocking and bled all the way home. Then it was snowing so it was all dirty. You ever get hurt and realize you’re no better than a kid, like you just wish there were someone there to kiss it better. Or like wanting someone to rub and be like sana sana colita de rana.” You ramble, eyes on the way his hand covers your entire knee and the way his thumb works into your soft skin. You gaze trails back up to his face and his stunning side profile is what you’re met with. The arch of his nose, the thick hair above his pretty pout. You wanted to drag your lips across it all and claim him. 

His brow furrows, and you realize that may be its natural state. His free hand comes up and points at a tiny scar across the bridge of his nose. Eyes widening, you shove your face into his to get a view. Tip of your nose touching his cheek while you observe a new part of him. He chuckles. 

“I’ve been on scene for more raids than I can count. Usually it’s a shoot out.” Your chest tightens and you back your face away. “Dodging, frantic, whatever. But there was this one, where we had one of Escobar's sicarios cornered. Well I had him cornered. Really fucked up guy, got two pregnant women killed sort of fucked up. Anyway, I was tired, and angry. And I should have just detained him when I had the chance. But… I was the one who saw the bodies. I wanted to rough him up myself. And I did, but in the midst of it all he head butted me and—yeah. Cracked my nose. Had a small gash and was bleeding all the way down to my teeth.” His finger traces to his mustache.

 “Went back to my team, blood still pouring, drying on my mustache. In so much pain I could barely see. The adrenaline was so high so no one bothered to help me. I didn’t want to help me either, I just wanted to get the night done and over with. It was when I got home and dunked my face in cold water that I really wished I had someone there to take care of me.”

He frowns for a moment, not able to look you in the eyes. You both sit in silence and you digest it all. You knew—know, that your lives turned out very differently, you guess you haven’t even thought about how different. 

 Your frown isn’t momentary, your heart slows in your chest and you swear you don’t think. Maybe you can blame it on your drunkenness tomorrow. But you bring your pointer finger to the scar on his nose and he doesn’t flinch. The crease between his brow just flexes then smoothes out all together.

You rub the scar, and trail down the bump of his nose. You feel the slight crook that it must have left. You move again, grazing the tip, and landing on his mustache. The thing that used to brush against you, and at one point soaked his blood. His lip twitches when the tip of your nail brushes the soft skin of his cupid's bow. The pad of your finger presses against his lips and he cracks into a smile. One that’s more genuine than any he let out today. Maybe it’s because you’re both tipsy that he allows his eyes to crinkle and dimples to deepen. Your finger slipping and pressing to the cold surface of his teeth. 

You let your hand fall to his chest, “I wish I was there.” You admit in a whisper.

“I don’t.” His voice vibrates against your palm. 

You know what he means, and he knows you know what he means so he doesn’t rush to reassure you. You’re beyond need for that. “I know it was dangerous but I wish I was there to listen to you, wipe off your blood or whatever.” You whisper, doubling down. He huffs, he’s much more solid under your palm than he was a few years back. It must be tough work. You fight the urge to press your lips against the scar on his nose. 

“You would have been disgusted by the person I was there—the person I've become.” 

“No.” You mutter, you’ve already thought of all the horrible things he could have been doing and forgave him in your head years ago.

He shakes his head and grabs your wrist to move your hand onto your own lap. “I’ve killed people.”

“I know.”

“I fucked at least 2 hookers a week.”

He’s saying it like he wants you to run away or tell him he isn’t good enough, that he’s not the same person. Does he want you to snarl in his face and be angry? It seems like he must have forgotten the type of person you are. “Was it a different one each time?” You ask so maybe you cared more than you’d like to believe. 

“It was the same four women.” He burns a hole through the wall with his gaze. He couldn’t even look at you. 

“What were their names?”

He snaps to look at you, eyes roving around your face. Utter confusion between his brow. “Do you want me to hurt your feelings?”

“What did you think I was sitting with my legs crossed in New York City?” 

He quirks a brow for a moment, you see the smallest glimpse of jealousy in his eyes before he sits up right and smirks. “Julia, Camila, Daniela and Dulce.”

You nod, “I’m hooking up with my colleague.” 

He tightens his lips, “Alright.”

You chuckle dryly, tilting your head. “Does that bother you?”

Javier shrugs, “No but unlike you I rather not hear about my exes sexual whereabouts” 

Your eyes drop to your lap at that. Tiredness creeping in to protect you from the danger that is speaking to Javier so late in the night. You hated that, “I never thought we’d ever be exes.”

It's silent again, you can almost hear Chucho snoring down the hall. How is it Christmas already, how is he here? How, why the fuck are you in his bed. “I don't typically go into relationships thinking we’re going to be exes.”

“I never thought we’d even be together.” You whisper the confession. Sometimes, she creeps through, who you were ten years ago. Insecure and unsure of everything when the answers are right on display for you. Javier's body is much closer to you this time, sneaking his chin on your shoulder. Lips grazing your jaw. It sobers you up, you bring your hand to the back of his head. Cradling him, while he presses slow kisses to your jaw. Lips just as soft. Your eyes flutter shut, “This is such a bad idea.” 

“Why?” He gravels out. His adams apple rolling against your shoulder. 

“Because we’re going to end up fucking.”

His teeth grazes your neck, “Would that be so bad?” He slows down, nosing your chest, with hands coming to your waist. Like he’s ready to pull you into his lap at any moment. 

You don't want him to stop, the way he’s moving is all that you've craved for years. His shirt thin on your skin, he’s all opened mouth–inching toward your peaked nipples through the shirt. Threatening to mouth away at your breast. His large hands move from your waist, up, up to your breasts. Holding the weight of them, palms covering it all, he inspects it like it's his job. He looks up at you through his brows. Your mouth is open, unable to speak. “Huh Andrea?” He teases. A smirk twitching the edges of his mustache. 

Your mouth dry, you lick your lips and snap out of it. “We can’t kiss.”

He takes it as a go ahead, and it is. He kneads at your chest, palm grazing against your nipples and causing your legs to part. “Can I touch you like this?” It's husky and mocking, the way he’s already done it without asking. It's pathetic the way you’re allowing all of this to happen before you even have a serious conversation about everything that went down. You nod. 

“We can’t kiss–oh.” He lifts the shirt and attaches his wet mouth to your bare breasts. You moan, toes curling. “We can’t fuck.”

“I'm clean.” He mumbles against your breasts.

“Me too-that's not why–Javi…” Your breath catches in your throat when his free hand grabs a handful of your inner thigh. He’s like a starved man, you, a delicious meal out in front of him, prepared for devouring. Your hand comes to cover his. Moving with him while he moves up the inside of your thigh.

“Why not?” The both of you are staring at your hands conjoined, slipping dangerously close to the gusset of your panties. His eyes flick up to you but your mouth is agape and distracted by the closeness of him, about how he smells the same, how everything feels like before. Why is it so easy to fall back into him, why was it so hard to resist. 

Because it’s too much, I’ll tell you I love you again. I’ll never leave. I will never let you leave. His pointer finger grazes then slips in between your panties and your cunt. You were destined to fail your attempt at self preservation. “Just…” You lean back fully and you can feel him heat up beside you. “Just touch me, make me forget.” You whisper. Legs spreading he takes his place, on his knees in the space you’ve made. His hands make no hesitation, he grips at your simple cotton fabric and pulls them off swiftly. He stares, hands on your knees. Eyes hooded and his length hardening before your eyes. Licking his lips, his brows furrow. 

“Que quieres olvidar?” It comes out low, whispered and strained. He knows that this means more than just two horny exes rekindling for a night. He knows this comes with years of pain, and bliss and confusion. Slightly toxic, beautifully romantic. He knows this could never be just two people having casual sex, he ignores it anyway and so do you. 

You shut your eyes for a moment 

“Summer.” 

Is all you can think of. It answers everything. Javier’s jaw tightens, you watch the word take meaning in his brain and he nods. Good thing we have all other seasons, he thinks out loud, beyond a whisper. You know he’s your one and only. He leans forward and flips his green shirt up the slightest. He presses two wet kisses to your belly and whispers words unheard before inching his lips right where he’s needed most. His bottom lip ghosts over your clit and your stomach pits. He cuts through his breath with his hot and heavy tongue flicking you. “Mnm” It’s one touch and you're reduced to whimpers of jumbled letters. His pretty lips kissing and sucking at your bare cunt. 

“Still…” He grunts, before licking again from your pulsing hole up to your clit that's doing just the same. “Still taste so good.” His southern drawl that he loved to hide creeps up in moments like this. Moments when your face is flush and your chin is quivering from pleasure and agony. Your legs are spread wide and you feel your bruised and cut knee sting but your senses are overloaded so the pain is close to non-existence. You squirm and he murmurs, stay fucking still, before swinging your good leg over his shoulder and continue his feast. 

His hot mouth moves to your labia, sucking just to make noise, and back to your cunt that's weeping for him to just put a little bit of him in. But no Andrea-no. You're making such a mess of his face you feel slightly sheepish. His eyes are closed and he’s in his element between your legs. Chin quivering, you want to hold him, he’s reminding you that sex is fucked if its not with him. Your hands fly to the mess of hair on his head. Tugging and moving him, you sit up slightly. Finding him rutting his hips against the bed below him and you feel for him. Your hands slip from the back of his head down to his broad back, taking advantage of the width of him. The hand that found its place holding your thighs in place reaches to your sensitive knot of nerves. 

Thumbing you and your body drops back down on the bed. Desperate to scream and moan his name, your shaky hand grabs a pillow from next to you. You stuff your face, and weep against it. “Javi–I’m going to come– oh god please.”

His moan vibrates against your core and he drives. Sloppy and rushed, he rubs you out while his tongue fucks you. On the silent Christmas night you whimper against a bitten pillow while Javier makes out with your pussy. “You're so close baby– did this pretty little cunt miss me?”

“It did–no one compares–oh!” You shriek but it's muffled. He lets your other leg go and slips two fingers inside of your unexpecting cunt. He’s relentless, finger fucking you knuckle deep while his tongues makes its deft movements against and it was enough. You're gushing all over his hands, he moans at the sight, smiling at the way you writhe and hold the pillow against your made up face. Hips twitching while he coaxes you with kisses on your stomach. “Easy…” He holds your belly with the wet hand, settling your twitching form down. You always come this way when it's him, embarrassing to you when you come down, completely out of control of your body for a few seconds. You toss the pillow, white with black streaks of your mascara. 

He’s kissing you all over, lifting your shirt– his shirt, kissing your hip bone, kissing below your breasts, your neck, your jaw, your cheek, eyelids and the corner of your mouth. 

You lay side by side. Sweating and unsure what happens next. You let the sound of his ceiling fan play out for a moment.

“I thought about you every day.” He speaks and it's gravelly. “Sometimes I’d see something so horrible or embarrassing and think only Andrea would understand– only she would laugh with me.”

Chest rising with a stutter, you're on the verge of a sob. “I pay ten dollars a month for a Colombian newspaper subscription because they have a DEA column.” Suppose it was time to be honest. “Every time I saw a bee I thought of you.”

He chuckles next to you, “C’mere” He whispers and you move immediately. Finding your head on his chest and your arm snaked on his waist. His large palm covers the back of your head. You’re in heaven. Complete bliss. How have you been so strong without him? “I’m not taking time off, I was fired and paid to not expose the DEA.”

You nod against him, not entirely shocked. You never really liked the idea of Javi– Javi, who has so much good to offer- selling his soul to government agencies. It was a selfless thing he did for a selfish system. “I have birds.” You giggle, not having a great follow up. He laughs with you, your cheek vibrating. 

“What in the world are we doing?”

You have no fucking clue. But you think you understand him now, the way he wanted all of you before he left for Colombia. The way he seemed selfish to others to keep you wrapped around his finger when he had a flight booked. 

Now it's you leaving, you’ve got that flight, you’ve got a life elsewhere, yet you can't help but keep him while you can. 

“Being selfish. Or at least I am.” 

“No.” His response is quick and cutting. “You can do whatever you want to me. You can leave tomorrow and I’ll be satisfied that you gave me a chance again.”

Your brows furrow and you don’t like that at all. You hate to hear your own thoughts out of his lips. You don't scold him for being honest. “I leave two days after New Year's Day.” It's so dark in the room, still you look up at him when you say and you see his face unmoved. 

“Stay here… for the week I mean.” He's desperate, holding onto you. You want to kiss him. “Cancel your hotel, bring your things here. You know this is your home.” 

 “Okay.” You nod instead, “I will.”

“Good.” He smiles in the dark, his teeth illuminating the perfection that is his face. He presses a kiss to your forehead. “Good.” He says it to himself.

“Can we keep being honest?”

“Yes. I had a picture you taped to my desk.” 

“Must have scared all of your sexy female co-workers away.” You grin. 

“Sure did, doing your job from countries away.”

“Hm.” You catalog all that he has missed in your head, thinking what to tell him next. “Do you know Whitney Houston?”

“Eh.” 

“Well…the week after we broke up. When Lorraine was staying with you, I listened to ‘Saving All My Love For You’ and cried like every day.”

“Andrea…” He groans teasingly like you’re hurting him. “What was the song about?” 

You burn bright red, “Being the other woman…”

“Oh please.” He grunts, holding you tight against him. You almost forget you're completely bare from the waist down. “No seas tan ridícula” He mutters against your head while kissing you aggressively there. 

“Let's just sleep before I embarrass myself some more please!”

“Mmm good idea. I was close to telling about jerking off in a storage closet because someone smelled like you.”

Your mouth drops wide and you slap his chest, “Javi!” 

“All right I’ll save it for a less… holy day.”

Right, good ol’ JC’s B-day. 

“Fuck… I was making a mess of your bed on our lord's day.”

He shrugs. It’s so easy to just fall back into everything when it’s him. Like four years haven’t passed. 

“Well, consider it a Christmas gift.” 

You chuckle, “Well Merry fucking Christmas.”

 “Maybe I do know how to be your friend in the winter Andrea.”

It's a whisper, like a prayer.

[cyncerity]

Hero au time!!

This is an idea i’ve had in my head forever, which is why it’s so fucking long. Hope y’all enjoy!

tw: soft, safe vore

“We know you have him. You’re not leaving here until you either tell us where he is or your friends fess up and tell us for you. And if we find his body before you can admit to anything, we kill you. Simple as that.”

The voice came from behind him, the ornate table in front of him empty and shrouded in shadows. Sapnap shifted uncomfortably in the chair he was tied to, the ropes rubbing uncomfortably against his now bare wrists. He saw his gloves laid on that table in front of him, now replaced with power suppressant cuffs. Great, so whoever took him wasn’t stupid. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, but you’d better let me go this instant. It’s a federal crime to hold a hero hostage.”

“Oh we know, Mr. number 2 hero. But I think you’ll find that we’re wanted for worse.” The voice said before a shadowy figure finally stepped into his line of sight.

The man was fairly average in height and build, but that wasn’t what made him intimidating. No, the glistening black wings longer than he was tall and deadly sharp talons that reflected in the dim torchlight made him quite fearsome looking all on their own. Azrael. The top villain of the greater smp and leader of a group called the Syndicate, an organization of some of the most feared villains in the public eye. The villain glared at Sapnap, icy blue eyes visible behind the crow skull he wore. “You have something that belongs to us.”

“You’re mistaken, unfortunately. Anything I have that I took from you was rightfully someone else’s to begin with. I have no quarrel with you outside of the battlefield.” Sapnap said, doing his best to maintain his professional anti-conflict hero tone that he’d been trained to use. The villain loomed over him, the eye contact prolonged and uncomfortable. Sapnap knew that he was trying to read for any expression, but they were at a standstill. Perks of having blank white eyes in this more humanoid form that the hero agency requested he take during missions (as to not scare the kids or something) meant that he was hard to read. He mentally thanked his dad for picking up that trait, as even though his father was kind, Bad was fucking terrifying.

“Liar.” Was all the villain said before more people came into his view. Not all the members of the syndicate were here, Sapnap noted, but the recognizable ones were Phase, a villain who could teleport, Thunder, a villain with a pretty self explanatory power, and Metis, a villainess who could read people’s feelings and the basic gist of thoughts and just also happened to have deadly aim with a dagger. He took a few moments to wonder where Azrael’s right hand man Blood God or presumed son Psychosis were before remembering they’d both been missing in action for a few months now. Ignoring the few other hooded figures and some minor villains, the only person who Sapnap was actually surprised to see was Brutus, a [seemingly] young new vigilante on the scene who’d made a habit of specifically targeting Azrael in fights and running from everyone else, heroes included. Everyone seemed oddly chill with him being there, in fact everyone seemed to be going out of their way to look any direction other than his.

“Where are the rest of you.” Sapnap asked, more a demand than a question. He could almost hear Azrael’s smile in his response. “Observant, aren’t we, Blaze? Well, the rest of us are going to be taking care of your little friends. I’ll call them off if we get what we want out of you, but if not, we’ll have to get answers from Dream and Nightcap. It likely won’t be hard with your life on the line. As for right now, though, they haven’t noticed your absence. So let’s make this easy; you give us what we want, and you’ll be free to return home before they even notice you’re gone! Everyone wins, really.”

“For the last fucking time I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Sapnap sneered. Azrael looked like he was going to respond, but Metis suddenly spoke up. “He’s telling the truth. He really doesn’t know what we want, he’s just that stupid.” “Hey!” “Fine,” Azrael sighed. “Phase, his bag, please.” At that, Sapnap paused. What could they possibly want from his bag? It was just a bunch of his hero junk and-

Oh. Oh fuck.

Metis noticed his falter immediately. “He’s afraid.” She announced, turning her attention to Azrael who looked back at Sapnap with a glare in his eye that could kill a man weaker than a professionally trained hero. “So you do know what we want then.” He said, pulling something out of the bag. Red sunglasses. Round, gold rimmed thick bright red sunglasses. “If you’re so innocent, tell me, Blaze, how you got these? Or better yet, the rest of it?” Azrael spat, shoving his bag over on the table and knocking the contents everywhere. A red button up, gold corset, black and red pinstripe dress pants and red heeled leather shoes. A black dress coat with an insignia on the back, a red star encompassed by a horizontal diamond. A logo that had haunted the hero agency for years. The symbol of a gang with a leader so evil and cunning that he’d not only evaded capture, but evaded any forward malpractice in his casino so no one could legally shut it down. Sure everyone knew a villain ran the casino as a front for crime, but legally, there was no evidence, so it became a hub of drugs, violence, and information. A villain who’d been active before even Sapnap, Dream, and George became heroes.

Oberon. Casino owner, leader of the Las Nevadas gang, spreader of illegal information to whatever party was willing to pay him. Supervillain.

And all of his costume had just fallen out of Sapnap’s hero bag.

“Speechless? I thought you’d take pride in having caught one of the biggest criminals in the city.” Azrael droned. Sapnap stared, unblinking, willing his face not to move despite the mask that covered the lower half of it. “Anyway, we will be needing him back. He’s useful to us, after all.” Sapnap stayed silent, and he could tell it was aggravating Azrael. Metis stepped closer to him, a dagger held at his throat as the Lynx mask she wore drew closer to his face. “He’s terrified. I can’t tell of what exactly, but it’s not us.”

Azrael hummed, not making a move. Sapnap didn’t dare flinch. No, he wasn’t scared. Not of the Syndicate, not of the knife at his throat, not of being kidnapped. He was a hero, shit like this happened.

No, he was terrified because he knew exactly where Oberon was, and he couldn’t get out of this situation.

Sapnap was something of a hybrid. His dad was a demon, his surrogate mom was a human, Skeppy was Skeppy and no one quite knew what he was. But Sapnap was a demon hybrid, a fire demon hybrid to be exact, which didn’t fair well normally. He remembered being beaten up for his horns in school, having his tailed yanked on the street, having people point and laugh at his fangs in cafes. He learned he could hide his hybrid traits. It made things easier. He passed as human almost completely, save for the white eyes and pointed ears. That’s how he was as a hero. Blaze, to the public, was a human with some odd hybrid-esc traits, and that was that.

To his friends and family, he was Sapnap, a fire demon. To his parents, big brother, best friend, and fiancés, he didn’t have to hide. They knew all the weird shit that being a demon came with, one fiancé especially.

Quackity, in Sapnap’s eyes, was perfect. They grew up as neighbors and became instant friends, with Quackity even announcing in the 3rd grade that he was marrying Sapnap and no one was gonna steal him. In high school, after much deliberation, he conceded that he would back down a little bit and share with Karl. As adults, they’ve been planning their wedding for years now. Quackity was funny, optimistic, and kindhearted; the perfect future husband.

Who also happened to be a supervillain on the side.

Sapnap knew. Of course he knew, he’d been one of the first people Quackity told when he first started and couldn’t keep all his secrets and stay sane. But Sapnap became a hero, following his big brother into the field because that’s what he always did. He followed Dream, as did George. Eventually, Karl followed, too. Quackity knew. The first time Quackity walked up to the new heroes on the battlefield as Oberon, he wiped the floor with them. No real damage done, but he knocked out 4 new heroes in one fight solo, and that made him a significantly more threatening and famous villain to the public.

From Sapnap’s perspective, he didn’t want to fight his fiancé and as he was later told from his fiancés perspective, Quackity just wanted the fight over with as quickly as possible. 3 out of 4 heroes pulled their punches while Quackity fought hard. It was an easy match, in the end.

Karl knew who Oberon was too, since “you can’t keep a secret like that for long when you’re so intimately in love with a person that you could identify them by the way they flick their wrist” (and was swiftly punched for by both fiancés for being too sappy). George guessed it immediately. It took the three fiancés a while to stop trying to convince him that Quackity was a regular civilian when George wouldn’t back off that he knew. Dream…well, they’d tell him eventually. Probably.

Point is, Quackiy is awesome and the love of Sapnap’s life, whether or not he’s a supervillain. And as the love of Sapnap’s life who also happens to have shapeshifting superpowers, he volunteers to do some things to help his demon instincts that Sapnap really appreciates. As the only two hybrids of the polycule, they help each other out. Sapnap preens Quackity’s wings, helps him nest, and makes sure he’s warm for the winter while Quackity…well, Quackity lets Sapnap eat him.

Sapnap has been called names before. “freak,” “hellspawn,” he’s used to that, but every so often he’ll hear “maneater” called in his direction and wonder if the person calling him that knows how close they really are. See, while demons have a bad rep for plenty of made up things like stealing souls or cursing people, the rumor that demons kill and eat people is only half wrong. No demon would grab someone off of the street and eat them alive, but a person who the demon cares about immensely and who could fit in their mouth?…yeah, they’d get eaten, but not without proper warning and consent. Demons had crops for a reason (albeit an unknown one, far too evolved in this modern society that the original use for it has been lost to time), and that reason was to store things the demon cared about. There was a reason Bad, at over 9 feet tall, had married a man who could shrink to 2 feet. Sapnap had instincts to store plenty of things: items from his childhood, his fish (he wouldn’t), his friends (he physically can’t but damn if his instincts aren’t stupid), and of course his fiancés. He’d just happened to win the lottery and fall in love with a man able (and more importantly willing) to be stored. Quackity, as an avian, knew the instinct cause he had a crop too, and was more than willing to help Sapnap when he needed it (he occasionally wondered how Quackity dealt with it considering he and Karl couldn’t shrink, but Q always said “a friend” or “work associate” helped him out, so really it wasn’t Sapnap’s business).

Today, Sapnap’s shift had sucked and Karl was stuck at the tower for the rest of the night doing paperwork. So as he often did, Sapnap called Quackity and asked if he would “sleep in” that night. Quackity, as he often did, said yes. Sapnap went down to Las Nevadas and was passed into the casino with no hassle, the worker’s shock of seeing a top three hero walk into a villain lair long worn off. He made it to the office and there sat Oberon. Average height, long wild black hair, and a massive gash that took up almost the whole left side of his face that left his eye milky and showed a golden fang behind his split lip. The expression he wore was always mischievous and hard to read, a poker face that he’d bet not even Metis could get past.

It all fell apart when he saw Sapnap.

His expression melted into joy, the cunning and somewhat frightening look dissipating as he waved slightly. The man shrank to below average height, his hair becoming much shorter and showing feathered ears for a split second before a beanie was hastily thrown over them. The scar closed itself until only a thin pale puckered line showed where the scar had once been, though his eye remained murky. He removed his dress shirt so he was only wearing a tank top and sighed as he let his wings out, stretching out the black and golden feathers. This was Quackity, the man Sapnap fell in love with.

Within a few minutes they were both in pajamas and Sapnap was holding his fiancé in his hands. The only warning Quackity gave was that he had a meeting in the morning so Sapnap would have to let him out early. Sure, he could do that. So carefully, he lifted his hands up to his mouth and slowly tilted his lover in. He felt Quackity melt into the warmth as he slowly raised his own body temperature knowing how much the duck avian liked the heat. He felt feathers press into the walls of his mouth as Quackity stretched his wings and then shapeshifted them away again to get down easier without leaving feathers in his fiancés throat. Other perk of marrying a shapeshifter: they can do shit like that. Within moments of Q patting the roof of Sapnap’s mouth, he was being pulled down by the throat muscles, and Sapnap could feel when Quackity landed in his storage because his powers immediately flared.

Being a fire demon was…weird, Sapnap had come to learn. He’d always known his powers were emotion based, he learned that at a young age. Joy and anger sparked the strongest, sadness and fear dimmed him. Simple. Until he stored Quackity for the first time and almost lit his bedroom on fire. Sapnap learned 2 things that day: 1- turns out, as sappy as it sounded, love was way stronger than joy or anger. 2- according to Quackity, his fire, the root of his power and life force as a fire demon, was in his storage. Literally. Quackity told him cause Quackity saw it. Physically. A glowing orb of fire that just permanently existed in Sapnap’s storage. Quackity also decided touching it would be a good idea (that’s how the bedroom fiasco happened, but that’s besides the point). Point is, when that love he has for his fiancé is combined with the primal demon instinct to store and protect, Sapnap can become an absolute powerhouse of destruction. Higher endurance, stronger, faster, even his flames were hotter. The rest of the heroes called it Hellfire. Quackity agreed it was fitting.

Which meant that when he got an emergency call that a supervillain was on the loose and he was needed immediately, he knew he’d get it over with quickly. He felt Quackity pull his wings back out and push them against the walls surrounding him, a sign that he was good for Sapnap to go do his job. So, that’s what he did, knowing it wouldn’t take long with his hellfire active.

He was right, of course. It was less than an hour before the criminal was in custody, unable to escape past the walls of fire Sapnap put up. He was home only an hour after than, drained of energy and barely able to stand (Quackity massaging him from inside was definitely not helping). He fell asleep before he even got changed out of his hero gear.

Looking back, he realized neither of them had remembered that there was anything important the next day.

Sapnap geared up to do hero work the next day at around noon, packing up Quackity’s villain costume in his bag so he could let his fiancé out later and he could get back to work. He told his higher ups that he was going to patrol around Las Nevadas, which wasn’t suspicious cause of the absurd amount of gang activity that needed dealt with. Quackity, meanwhile, was still asleep, and likely would be till Sapnap returned him to his office and he had to be Oberon again.

Then he was grabbed from behind.

In a split second, he was in a dark alleyway he hadn’t been in a moment before, and there was something swung at his head rapidly before it all went black.

And now he was here. Tied to a chair with a power suppresent cuff, surrounded by supervillains, with his supervillain fiancé in his storage.

Sapnap was speechless, for maybe the first time in his life. He..he couldn’t deny this. There was no way he could plead innocent to having every single piece of Oberon’s costume in his bag. Half the syndicate was glaring down at him, the other half was staged to fight his friends, and the one thing they wanted was something he couldn’t and wouldn’t give up.

“How…how did you know it was me?” “We have a tracker in his costume.” Metis answered simply. “Oberon has never missed a meeting. We have trackers in all Syndicate member’s costumes, just for cases like this. When he didn’t show, we tracked it and it just so happened to lead us right to your stuff. Never imagined a hero would stoop so low as to kidnap someone rather than arrest them.” “I wouldn’t.” he growled. “Are you seriously trying to argue with us right now?” Brutus spoke up for the first time in the conversation. “You have all of Oberon’s missing stuff, you’re getting really defensive, and you’re a hero for fucks sake! Who else would have taken him? Now give us our friend back or else.”

“Pardon, ‘friend?’” Sapnap questioned, momentarily caught off guard. Sure, he knew Quackity worked with the Syndicate, but were they his friends? Did he enjoy their company, or know them on a first name basis? “Yes, friend, dickhead. Villains can have friends too, y’know.” “I know, I just…I don’t know, assumed it was more of a business relationship?” Sapnap questioned, Brutus going to answer before Azrael pushed him back. “Our relationship with Oberon is none of your business, hero. Now tell us where he is.” Oh it very much was his business, but Sapnap wasn’t going to mention that right now.

“…no.” “Ex-fucking-cuse me??” Azrael gawked, momentarily dropping his mask as a terrifying supervillain to just be plain confused. “I said no.” Sapnap said as calmly as he could given that there was still a dagger at his neck. “I can’t tell you where he is, all I can tell you is that he’s safe and I sure as hell didn’t kidnap him.” Azrael’s supervillain mask of annoyance was slipped back on as he glared at Sapnap. “You expect us to believe that, Blaze? You expect us to blindly trust a pro hero?” Azrael scowled. “Exactly, i’m a hero. I wouldn’t hurt someone with no reason, even a villain. I wouldn’t hurt Oberon.” Sapnap pleaded, and from what little he could see of Brutus and Metis’ faces, he thought they might have believed him. Phase and Thunder stood stock still, masks fully covering their faces so Sapnap had no idea what they were thinking. Azrael, however, looked angry. He looked so fucking angry.

“We’re getting nowhere, we don’t have time for this! Oberon could be dead, I can’t trust a word out of your mouth.” He shouted, pushing Metis’s dagger out of the way and grabbing Sapnap by the hair, yanking his head up to look him in the eye. “This isn’t a request anymore. You’re going to tell me where he is right-“ Azrael reeled his arm back, and Sapnap only had a few moments to realize what he was going to do “-fucking-“ oh no “-now!” Azrael punched Sapnap in the stomach hard, knocking the wind out of him.

Sapnap screamed.

He curled in on himself and gasped for air, crying and screaming. It was all he could think to do in his panic. He couldn’t even bring himself to think of words to say, could only shout and cry and hope that Azrael would leave him alone. He saw the winged man jump back in shock, along with the rest of the villains. He doubted they’d thought that when they captured a superhero they’d end up watching said superhero sob, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He wrapped his arms around himself, desperately trying to feel for any sign that Quackity was alright, only to realize that this was the first time in hours he’d moved his arms.

He looked down through the tears in his eyes and realized he wasn’t tied to the chair anymore. The ropes that had been tied around him were now strewn on the ground; singed, tattered, and smoking. The power suppressents lay on the ground with the ropes, sparking and useless. Holy shit, did he just break the power suppressents??

Sapnap’s thoughts were cut off when he felt and heard something from in his storage. He felt Quackity grow heavier, likely shifting just a little bit bigger, and he could feel him pressing into the walls. “What the fuck?” Quackity asked groggily, Sapnap feeling him stretch out. “Ow, fuck, what the fuck was that, Sap??” Lots of thoughts ran through Sapnap’s head, his instincts flaring and clouding his thoughts. Was Quackity ok? He was conscious thank god, but he said ow, how badly was he hurt? Quackity was supposed to be safe when he was with Sapnap, but he wasn’t safe, how could he keep his fiancé safe? “Blaze?” Who? “Blaze, you with us?” Not Quackity, Quackity would have called him by his name. He looks up and sees Brutus standing over him, most of the villains having taken a step back, including Azrael, surprisingly. “You feeling better?” “…please don’t hit me again.” Sapnap pleaded quietly through a sore throat. “What the fuck does that mean? Sapnap what the fuck?? Are you safe, where are you!?” Quackity shouted, shifting himself smaller so he wouldn’t be as loud. Brutus, oblivious to what Sapnap was hearing, knelt down to be eye level with the hero.

“I won’t. Maybe those guys will, but I’m not that kind of guy. I like to think of myself as a hero.” “…I can’t back down on this. I’m not telling you or the Syndicate where Oberon is. That’s final.” He said strongly. “Fucking what?!” Quackity shouted, pushing himself forwards only to fall. “Fuck! Shit, ow…” He trailed off, which almost made Sapnap panic again, but he knew things would only get worse if they knew where Quackity actually was. Brutus was silent for a moment. “Ok,” he said finally. “Then they’ll just keep you here until you do, I guess. But I can stick around to make sure they won’t hit you again, that was uncalled for.” He finished, glaring angrily at Azrael at the end. “Thank you, Brutus.” Sapnap finished, not making any move to stand or move. “Brutus?!” He heard Quackity yell, though he just hoped his fiancé could understand why he wasn’t answering.

Things got quieter after that. Sapnap, despite still being free from his restraints, did nothing to run. What could he do, after all? He was totally outnumbered. And despite Brutus’s promise that he would keep him from getting hurt (again), he knew that if it came down to it, Brutus would fight with the Syndicate, not him. Besides, even if he did get out, the villains would come after him immediately. Or worse, they’d target Dream and George, and Dream did not need to know of his (or literally everyone else’s) ties to the casino villain.

Quackity tried communication. Sapnap could hear him asking questions, begging for any reply to let him know that Sapnap was safe, that they were both safe. But he couldn’t. The villains and Brutus were watching him like a hawk, making sure he wouldn’t run. As if he was that stupid. But in return, he couldn’t comfort his frightened fiancé. Every second he spent listening to Quackity was another second he spent willing tears out of his eyes.

“Ok, ok, so you obviously can’t talk right now. Or hum. Or physically signal. Fuck, how…how can I talk to you?” Quackity pleaded aloud as if Sapnap hadn’t been pondering the exact same thing. He couldn’t speak, tap, hum, or even try to constrict his stomach: he didn’t know how badly crowfather’s punch had hurt him or if constructing the muscles around him would worsen the injury.

Every thought frustrated Sapnap further. It was infuriating.

“That’s it! Sapnap, your flame!” Quackity exclaimed. “It just flickered and got brighter, did you do that on purpose? Can you control it?” Holy shit, right, the power suppressants were off. Sapnap didn’t think he could, he certainly didn’t mean to just then; it must have been his anger that made it flare. But the idea that he could communicate, even one sidedly, with his lover made hope blossom in his chest. “There! You did it again, the flame got bigger!” Quackity excitedly yelled. ‘Ok, we can communicate,’ Sapnap thought, ‘all I have to do is control my emotions.’

“Are you safe? Flicker for yes, do nothing for no.” Sapnap tried very hard to not feel frustrated at the current state of things so he could signal that he was not, in fact, safe. There was a few seconds of silence as Quackity processed this. “…shit. Ok, so not safe.” Yeah no duh, stupid fucking supervillains. He could almost feel his flame flare in his chest at the thought. “Yeah, definitely not safe. The syndicate, you said?” Sapnap looked over Azrael , who was watching him with disinterest. He let his disdain for the man take over his thoughts. His flame sparked. “Ok, fuck, that’s worse.” Quackity said. “Are you hurt?” Jesus fuck the emotional whiplash he was putting himself through for this was gonna take years off his life, Sapnap was sure of it. He tried to reel back the hate, to take deep breaths and calm himself and imagine his flame returning to normal. “Ok, that’s good at least.” Quackity sighed, and in that moment Sapnap wanted nothing more than to ask it back. To beg, to plead that he answer his own question. He heard the pain laced in Quackity’s voice, he wasn’t going to forget the pained yells right after he was hit. He needed to know Quackity was ok.

A door across the room that Sapnap hadn’t even realized was there burst open, startling everyone in the room. “Sorry, Dream and Nightcap got away. We chased them, but they were too quick.” The man who was speaking had dark green hair, a massive gas mask looking face covering, and was big as a motherfucker. This was one of the most well known members of the syndicate, a previous hero called Machina who had quit the committee before the Dream Team was ever even introduced to the public, though he trained them all behind the scenes. Only a few months after his retirement, he showed back up as a villain. Sapnap knew this man well. “Shit,” Azrael cursed. “That’s fine, Warden, we’ll work with it. We just need to let them know we still have Blaze as ranso-“

“Sam!!” Sapnap screamed, pleading to whatever god that would listen that Sam could get him, them out of this. He felt Quackity perk up, dragging himself to the front of the stomach with only minor noises of pain. Sam was his hero mentor and one of his dad’s best friends, basically his uncle. He trusted Sam, and he knew Sam would at least want to do the right thing here. Whether or not he could convince Azrael to let him, though, was a different issue.

“Hm? Blaze!? What the fuck are you doing here, what happened?!” Sam yelled, storming over to Sapnap. Ok, so apparently Azrael hadn’t told him why he was supposed to be attacking Dream and George. “Look at his bag. We haven’t heard from Oberon, and it’s pretty damn clear whose fault that is.” Sapnap couldnt see Sam’s face behind his mask, but he could imagine his expression as he faced the bag and slowly turned his head to stare at Sapnap. It almost would have been comical if not for the situation.

See, Sapnap wasn’t the only one who was close with Sam. Quackity, despite not being a hero, knew the man pretty well himself, given that he was his legal guardian and all. Quackity’s parents abandoned him when he was really young, and Sam, his older cousin, took him in. Sam and Quackity had been pretty inseparable ever since, so he was sure that Sam’s presence made his fiancé feel exponentially better. Given that Sapnap and Quackity had been neighbors growing up, Sam had a lot of time to get accustomed to his ward’s role in Sapnap’s weird demon halfling shit. A role that grew larger when they started dating as teenagers, and Bad had to begrudgingly explain to Sam what a storage was when Quackity didn’t come home on time one night and Sam walked in on Sapnap eating him. That had not been a fun talk, but in hindsight it was better for him to have learned earlier than later.

Sam’s gaze lingered on Sapnap for a while before he flicked his head down just a bit, almost imperceptibly. Sapnap gave a quick abrupt nod in response and saw Sam’s shoulders tense. He knew.

“Are you hurt?” Sam asked, his head tilted down enough to show that his eyes were clearly not trained on Sapnap’s own, but rather his torso. “Yes.” Sapnap answered simply, hoping that if Sam thought one or both of them were injured he could get them out. He knew Quackity was hurt, that was his main priority. Sam sucked a breath in. “Azrael, I’ll handle it from here.” “Warden, I don’t think you-“ “I said,” He turned to the other villain, looming over the man. “I’ll take it from here. I know Blaze from my time as a hero. I know how to get him to crack.” Sam said, walking over to Sapnap and grabbing him by the collar of his shirt. Sapnap very carefully kept his face stone cold. He needed Azrael to believe Sam would actually torture information out of him. “…if you insist. I suppose you know him best.” “Perfect. I’ll be taking him now then.”

“Now hold on! What?!” “Is there a problem, Azrael?” “Ye-“ “Of course there is!!” Brutus interrupted, shockingly. “You can’t just fuckin’ kill the guy! Y-“ “I won’t hurt him more than necessary. You know I won’t.” Sam said, placing a hand on the boys shoulder who just sighed. “…ok.” “Warden, what are you going to do?” Azrael responded clearly fake calmly. “I’m taking him to a safe house for interrogation. I know his weaknesses, you’ve clearly been going to easy on him if he hasn’t spilled. I’m not letting Oberon get hurt.” Sam said with a tone of finality. And again to Sapnap’s surprise, Azrael stepped down immediately. In the back of his mind he wondered if the syndicate knew how close Sam and Quackity truly were, or if they knew the two were family, but he pushed the thought off. That wasn’t what was important right now.

Sam walked back over to him, pulling his trident and holding it to Sapnap’s neck. “You want to live, you’ll do what I say. Got it?” Sapnap nodded easily, incredibly used to the persona Sam puts on when working (Machina and Warden acted incredibly similar, one was just a lot scarier cause he had a giant fucking trident and was no longer bound by law). He pulled a piece of fabric from his costume and handed it to Brutus, who quickly got the message to tie it around Sapnap’s eyes. Once he was blinded, he felt the cold metal of Sam’s suit gloves grab him by the back of his neck and lead him (hopefully) out of the room. After that, there was no communication between the two of them besides the occasional warning of a step or ledge, but Quackity kept talking. “We’re walking, ok, I can tell we’re walking, that’s good. Sam’s getting us out? Are we safe? Ok I can’t tell if we’re not safe or if you just can’t respo-“

“Sam, are we alone?” Sapnap said, desperate to finally be able to console Quackity. “Yes, but play it safe. I don’t remember where the cameras are.” Sapnap nodded. Ok, better than nothing. Sapnap discreetly rubbed his storage, figuring that would look innocent enough over any potential security footage. Then, with no better option, he started to hum. Sapnap had never been incredibly musically gifted, but he hoped the tune of “Every Little Thing Is Gonna Be Alright” was recognizable enough to be comforting. Not long after, he heard Quackity quietly laugh and sing along with whatever words he knew. He smiled. Eventually, Sam’s hand shifted from grabbing the back of his neck to supporting his back, and he felt the trident be lowered away from his throat and heard the scrape of metal on metal as it was re-holstered. He felt the now empty cold metal glove take his hand and guide him further until eventually he was stopped and the blindfold was removed.

Sapnap stopped humming. He was standing outside a car and Sam was very quickly shoving most of his supervillain gear in it. From the look of the run down city around him, they seemed to be in one of the poorer areas of L’manburg, probably near the Pogtopia district. Something tapped his shoulder, and Sapnap whirled, coming face to face with Sam. Not Machina, not Warden; Sam. His dark green eyes and freckled face looked at him with worry. He’d seen that expression so many times; as a concerned family friend, as a mentor, and Sapnap always hated it. Hated seeing Sam sad. Sapnap couldn’t help the tears that welled in his eyes, couldn’t help pulling the man in for a hug. He would have squeezed him half to death if he wasn’t hyper aware of the weight in his middle who was still hurt. He felt Sam hug him back just as carefully, equally aware of Sapnap’s passenger even though he was unable to feel him. “I’m taking you to my place, let’s get out of here.” Sam whispered, and Sapnap nodded, letting out only a few tears before he got in the passenger seat of Sam’s car and immediately pressed both of his hands to his stomach.

“Quackity holy shit are you ok?!” “Fucking finally!!” Quackity cheered in response, growing larger once again now that he knew he didn’t have to hide before hissing in pain again. “I, uh..could be better, hotstuff. What happened?” Sam sat silently behind the wheel as they drove, though Sapnap saw his ear flick in their direction. He wasn’t sure what the limit of his enhanced creeper hearing was, but he hoped he could hear Quackity cause Sapnap didn’t want to have this conversation twice. “There was a tracker in your costume. We forgot about your stupid fucking meeting so the syndicate tracked your costume and found it in my bag. I was on my way to Las Nevadas to return it to you and let you out for work but I was kidnapped because they thought I kidnapped and de-masked you. Then when I wouldn’t talk Azrael punched me in the stomach, which is what woke you up.” “That…that explains a lot. I was half woken up by getting the shit knocked out of me, but also cause your flame fuckin’ blinded me, dude.” ‘That would make sense,’ Sapnap thought. If he got scared enough that his powers managed to burn off literal power suppressant cuffs, it must have been pretty damn bright. “Azrael fucking what?!” Sam interjected. “Yeah. I’m not hurt too bad, maybe a little bruised, but Q seems to be in bad shape.” Sapnap explained. “No I’m-“ “Yes you are. You sound like you’re in pain, you move like you’re in pain, you’re clearly in pain.”

Quackity sat in silence for a moment before relenting. “…I can’t move my left arm and anytime I move my torso or breathe my chest feels like it’s imploding. I think my shoulder’s popped out of it’s socket and my ribs might be broken.” “Fuck.” Sapnap and Sam said simultaneously, answering Sapnap’s silent question on if Sam could hear Q or not. “Ok, we get back to the house and go straight to Ponk. Quackity, do you think you can handle getting let out?” Sam asked louder than normal so Quackity could hear him. “I…I don’t know. I don’t think so. I don’t want to be a pussy but…fuck, it hurts. It hurts so fucking bad, Sam. I don’t wanna know how much worse it’ll get if I get compressed.” “You can cut me open, I don’t give a shit.” Sapnap said, deadly serious. “No, absolutely not you psycho.” Quackity said, kicking his stomach.

“I’ve got enough cuts up here, it’d be fine. It’d match.”

“Those are top scars you bitch that’s not-“

“Same difference.”

“Same difference my ass! We’re not cutting me out of your storage.”

“You need medical attention! What if you’re like, bleeding internally or something??”

“You’ll fuckin’ see what internal bleeding’s like if you insist that I get cut out of here one more time Sapnap I swear to god-“

“Boys!” Sam yelled, slamming his hands on the steering wheel. “No one is cutting anyone open! We’ll see what Ponk can do. Worse comes to absolute worst, we’ll wait to see if Q feels better enough to come out tomorrow.” Sam pulled the car into his driveway and stepped out, motioning for Sapnap to follow. He walked in behind Sam, untensing muscles he didn’t even know were tensed upon seeing the familiar rooms and smelling the same lemony citrus scent that had filled the house since his childhood. Safe, he was finally safe.

“Ponk! Get down here, we have a situation!” “What’s up?” He heard yelled from upstairs, then he saw Ponk come into view. A retired hero healer, Sam’s spouse, and Quackity’s step parent who honestly functioned more to him as a cool aunt rather than another caretaker. Sapnap also knew them well. They were well acquainted back when Blaze was new to the Smp, and they’d spent a lot of time getting to know one another given Sapnap’s track record of very very frequent injury. “Q is hurt, but we can’t get him out of Sapnap’s storage. Any ideas?” “Oh fuck, what?” Ponk said, running down the steps. “How bad? What happened? Is he conscious? Is he bleeding? Sam, what are you doing, go get my med bag!” Ponk rambled, and Sam ran to the bathroom and came out seconds later with a first aid kit. They took a stethoscope out and looped it around their neck before Sapnap even had a chance to process half of those questions. “Ok, Sapnap, you’re not the one hurt, correct?” “Correct.” “Ok, then I’m gonna need you to take your shirt off.” Sapnap shrugged and removed his hero gear, and while he was at it, shifted back to his more comfortable and natural half demon form, letting his horns and tail grow back out. “Ok now lay on the couch.” Ponk instructed, leading Sapnap to lay on the couch and pushing a coffee table out of the way so they could kneel next to him. They pressed a hand down in a few areas on Sapnap’s torso before they found Quackity and took off their stethoscope, pressing the cold metal right where they felt the shrunken man.

“Big Q? You doin’ alright in there?” “Good as I can be, Ponk.” Quackity replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Awesome.” Ponk replied with equal sass. “Now, this is a bit of an unorthodox check up, but i’m gonna need you to shift bigger if Sapnap can handle it so I can get a better idea of where I’m checking you.” “Im good,” Sapnap replied, “Do what you have to do, Angel.” Sapnap’s breath hitched as he felt Quackity grow larger, laying on his back in the storage and stretching out the walls around him, just on the brink of being uncomfortable for Sapnap but not quite there. Sapnap sucked in his stomach as much as possible to give Ponk more direct contact to Quackity. With Quackity so thoroughly pinned in his storage, he could feel every breath, every twitch, every heartbeat. He nodded at Ponk, who went back to checking up on the shrunken man. “Ok, I’m gonna press where I think your chest is, you’re going to tell me if I’m pressing in the right place and if it hurts.” Ponk placed a hand down and pressed gently, making Sapnap wince as Quackity flinched and shoved at his storage. “Yeah, that’s my chest and it fuckin’ hurts.” “1-10?” “8 or something I don’t know. I’m a supervillain, I get hurt a lot, i’m used to it.” “Ok. I have an idea. I can’t tell if your ribs are broken or if you just have a contusion, but either way it would take too long to heal naturally in there. You need to get out, but getting out would worsen the injuries, so I’m gonna try something.”

Ponk placed both hands right over where they’d deduced Quackity’s chest to be. Then, their hands (er, hand [Sam was never going to stop apologizing for that, despite it being a workplace accident that Ponk had long forgiven him for]) began to heat up. Sapnap was very used to seeing Ponk use their powers, having had them used on himself many times, but what Ponk was trying to do now was not only fascinating to watch, but logically also impossible. They were trying to heal Quackity through Sapnap’s skin. Ponk’s eyes squeezed shut tight as they bit their bottom lip almost to the point of blood in frustration, focusing all their energy on their power. “Ponk?” Quackity asked, before gasping. “Holy shit…” and Sapnap knew what that meant. “Ponk, it’s working, keep going.” Sapnap pleaded breathlessly, because he can tell it is. He hears Sam gasp as well from his place watching behind the sofa. He can only feel minimal amounts of Ponk’s power on his own skin, the minor bruising left behind by Azrael’s punch dissipating under their power. He looks down at himself and sees Quackity glow with the affects of Ponk’s power on him, the healing light illuminating through Sapnap’s storage. It was mesmerizing.

Eventually Ponk lifts their hands off Sapnap’s torso and sighs. Sam runs and quickly returns with water, which Ponk accepts graciously. Sapnap sits up, placing a light hand over Quackity. “Angel? Are you alright??” “I- I can’t believe that worked. What the fuck.” Sapnap just laughed, curling both arms around himself and hanging his head down, crying out of sheer relief after the incredibly fucking stressful evening he’d had. “Oh my fuck, thank god. Thank fucking god.” “He’s ok?” Sam asks, hands on Ponk’s shoulders supporting his partner. “Yes. He’s ok.” Sam sighed dramatically and rested his head on Ponk’s shoulder who just laughed and placed their hand on Sam’s head. “That didn’t take nearly as much out of me as I thought it would. Bone healing normally is a lot more tiring, so i’m gonna guess that it was just a shoulder injury and contusion in your chest, no actual broken ribs. Still, though, neither of those injuries would have done well under intense pressure. I’m glad healing it worked from out here.” Ponk explained. “Yeah we can figure out how the fuck you did that later.” Sapnap said, standing and stretching his arms above him, feeling his shoulders pop and hearing Quackity yelp as he got constricted in the surrounding muscles at his still bigger-than-average size. He was kind of glad Sam and Ponk were distracted with each other since he was sure that Quackity’s outline in his stomach was incredibly visible at the moment.

Sapnap patted his stomach and felt Quackity pat back. “Ok, as much as I love having you this close and all, cause I do, it has been almost 24 straight hours. You ready to come out now?” “Fuck yes, i’m raiding Sam’s fridge.” Sapnap laughed and pressed under where he felt Quackity, feeling weight dissipate as his fiancé shrunk to a size that Sapnap could manage to bring back up and hid his wings away. It was only a few more seconds before Quackity was traveling up Sapnap’s throat and ended up back in his mouth. Sapnap paused for just a few moments to suck the remaining spit off his fiancé and savor his flavor just a bit longer. Quackity lightly kicked Sapnap’s teeth, though Sapnap could feel the vibrations of laughter against his cheeks until he eventually relented and pulled the man out of his mouth, holding him gently in his palms. “Couldn’t help myself, darlin’, you taste as good as ever.” Sapnap purred, the shrunken man turning red in response. “Christ Sapnap, don’t do this to me so soon after I get out. Give me like an hour of grace before you make me want to go back in, you know I can’t say no to a pretty boy like you.” Quackity smiled back, a smirk pulling at his scarred lips as he gently traced his finger along the palms he sat in. Sapnap flustered; no matter the size or situation, he knew he’d always lose these word games with Quackity.

He loved him so goddamn much.

Quackity was quickly pulled from Sapnap’s hands by a very relieved and stressed Sam, who held the shrunken man to his cheek tightly. “Quackity oh thank fuck, I was so worried when I figured out where you were I assumed the worst at first when Azrael said-“ “Sam, I’m fine!” Quackity comforted, pushing himself away from Sam’s cheek to make eye contact with his pseudo-brother. “I’m alright, thanks to you. You got us out of there, thank you. I mean, talk about a literal Deus Ex Mach-“ “Quackity if you finish that joke I’ll fucking eat you.” Sam sighed, no actual heat behind his words. Quackity just laughed. “And Ponk, thank you. I don’t know how you did that, but thank you.” “No problem. My powers are less based on contact and more if I can get a clear visual of the person I have to heal and what injuries they have. It apparently works just as well if I can picture them in my head, which was pretty easy given I’ve known you almost your whole life.” “That’s fuckin’ sick.” Quackity nodded. “Now Sam, hand me back to Sapnap, he’s a human furnace and it’s really cold out here covered in spit.” Sam passed Quackity off to Sapnap who held him reverently as Quackity melted into the warmth the fire demon provided, pulling his wings back out as he curled against Sapnap’s fingers. “Would you mind grabbing food, too? I don’t think he’s eaten in like a day and a half.” Sapnap asked, and Sam and Ponk nodded before heading to their kitchen.

Sapnap took his bandana off and offered it to Quackity, who took it and began wiping himself down. Sapnap gently sat Quackity down on his lap. “I’m sorry about all of this.” He sighed, and Quackity gave him a confused look. “Sorry for what? You didn’t do shit. Believe me, I’ll be sure to put Azrael through the wringer next time I see him for this whole situation. But everything turned out alright, didn’t it? I’ll bet you anything that this won’t even be the most stressful fiasco this week.” Sapnap groaned. “I hate that you’re right. Why the fuck did I pick this job.” “Beats me, hero boy.” Quackity shrugged, done drying himself off. “But we survived our life-threatening mission of the day, you know what that means?” “What does that mean, hun?” Before he could blink, Quackity was back to normal size, sitting horizontally on his lap and looping the bandana behind Sapnap’s head, pulling it forward to kiss him. Sapnap was taken aback for all of 3 seconds before he slipped his arms behind Quackity and under his knees and held him closer to his chest, not breaking the kiss for a moment. He wasn’t lying before, Quackity did taste incredible. Quackity in turn dropped his hold of the bandana, instead electing to loop his arms around Sapnap’s neck and ensnare his hands in his fiancés hair and around his jawline for a tighter hold. It was messy; too long and somewhat violent (listen, they both had sharp teeth, blood was bound to be drawn) and not quite right with Quackity’s scar and golden tooth and Sapnap’s demon fangs. They were both smiling like idiots, too caught up in the joy of just being there kissing the other to worry about if they were kissing right.

It was perfect.

“I love you.” Quackity whispered, and Sapnap took note because it was rare that Quackity ever spoke outright like this. His lover was always more for gifts or quality time than words, though flirting was his exception. Words were more Karl’s thing, actions were Sapnap’s. But Quackity almost never directly said what was on his mind. “I was scared tonight.” Quackity continued quietly. “I’m not used to being scared for you. I know you’re a hero, and I know you can handle yourself, but my…’work associates’ can be vicious. I couldn’t hear them, you couldn’t speak. I sat for so long just begging you’d get out safely. I couldn’t do anything to protect you. I felt…well, small. I don’t ever want to be afraid of losing you ever again. I love you too much for that.” Sapnap pressed gentle kisses to his fiancés hairline, wiping the slow tears that fell from his eyes. “If I could help it, you’d never fear for me again. I’d set the world ablaze before I’d ever want to see you scared.” “Jesus Christ you sound like Karl.” Quackity sniffled, chuckling.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be a safe space for you.” Sapnap sighed. His storage was supposed to be a place where Quackity could feel protected, and now it had made him feel anything but. His instincts were in a fucking mess about it. “You’ll always be a safe space for me, baby.” Quackity answered, leaning his head against Sapnap’s shoulder. “I’ll always feel safer within you than anywhere else. I was scared for you, that’s all. I got you into that, and I couldn’t help you.” “You just being there helped more than you know. I hate that you got hurt, I hate that I couldn’t stop it, but…well, even if it’s selfish, I’m glad I wasn’t going through it alone.” Quackity smiled at him, an adoring look in his eyes before he laughed. “Aw, tsk tsk, selfishness is no trait befitting a hero. Maybe you should just quit and join my gang.” He grinned evily. “Ooooo, maybe some other time, but as of right now I rather enjoy upholding the law, Oberon.” “Ew, yuck.”

“We didn’t know what to grab so we threw frozen pizza in the oven.” Sam announced loudly, re-entering the room and placing two full hot pizzas in front of the couple. “Also we figured we should grab food that takes a while to make to give you two some alone time~” Ponk winked before he was promptly elbowed by Sam. “Oh fuck yeah!” Quackity cheered, practically shoving himself off Sapnap to grab a slice. Sam and Ponk laughed as Quackity shoveled the whole thing in his mouth, moaning at how good it was before swallowing and quickly grabbing another piece. Sapnap just watched for a moment. Quackity trying to reach for his third piece in the last 30 seconds, Sam trying (and failing) to hold him back so he didn’t choke and die after being saved less than an hour ago, and Ponk losing their absolute shit watching it all. All these people he’s known almost his whole life, yet when he also knew them so intimately on the battlefield, he sometimes forgot how…domestic it all was. How nice it was to just be with his lover and his family.

“Hey, Cracknap,” Ponk broke his train of thought, “you gonna eat or what?” Sapnap smiled. “Yeah, sorry, just got distracted. Thanks, guys.” “Anytime, Sap.” Sam replied, finally trusting Quackity to not die since he was now eating pizza at a normal speed. Good food and people he cared about, safe and sound.

Even if Quackity was right and Sapnap would probably have to go through another horrifyingly stressful ordeal by the next day, for now, everything was as it should be. As long as he could come back to this at the end of the day, whether it was with his friends, Quackity’s family, or his own, everything would be ok.

[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

Two Heroes, No Capes

Summary: Y/N is in trouble, and she knows just who to call for help.

Warnings/Explicit 18+: TW descriptions of a physical assault, mugging, violence implied, injuries, fear and shock, some discussion regarding sexual assault (no sexual assault takes place, or is described, but I want to be extra careful of people's triggers.)

Pairings: No romantic pairing. Jensen Ackles x teen!reader, Jared Padalecki x teen!reader

Word Count: 1,686

A/N: I got a request from the dear @kayyay1219 :

Ok so I’ve been in a J2xteen!reader phases for a while and I can’t help but want another one. So, I was thinking that the reader was out in the city by herself and she gets assaulted by a group of guys and she calls Jared and Jensen for help. So they come to her rescue and they see how bad her injuries are and they take her home and help her clean up.

So, this was what I came up with. I'm so sorry this took SO long to get to you hon! I hope you think it was worth the wait. ❤️

A/N 2: As always, this story is about a Jensen and Jared from a different part of the multiverse and doesn't reflect anything to do with their real life. This is a complete and utter work of fiction. 😊

The beautiful dividers below and at the bottom were created by @saradika

The fear was still pumping in her veins, the relentless throb making the newly formed bruises hurt a little more. Y/N raised her hand, and brushed her fingertips across the gash above her eyebrow. When she pulled her hand away and saw the blood dripping from her fingers, her panic increased.

A rational, calming voice floated into her wildly careening mind, speaking softly, deep and soothing.

It's okay, princess, head wounds bleed a lot, it's probably not as bad as it seems. 

She nodded absently to the voice and tried to take an inventory of what was hurting. Her head was pounding, a result of being punched in the face twice, no doubt, but she’d also smacked the back of it on the concrete when they'd pushed her backwards.

Probably a concussion, the voice told her. 

Her ankle was badly sprained, she knew, from when she'd tried to sprint away from them and lost her footing in one of the cracks criss-crossing the alley. Her body felt like one big bruise from where their fists had pummeled her as she struggled against them. She’d struggled, but they won - holding her down and taking her purse, her jewelry, and her new, expensive leather jacket. She breathed deeply and then grimaced in pain; she also thought she might have a broken rib.

Okay, princess, the voice said quietly, reassuringly, time to call for help.

Suddenly it was obvious to Y/N that the calm, caring voice in her head belonged to Jensen. Of course. She'd call the boys. One of them would likely be free to come help her. 

She dialed Jensen's number, glad the thieves hadn't taken her phone from her jeans pocket. It was a shitty old thing, they probably hadn't thought it was worth the bother. 

It rang twice before he picked up. 

"Hey, darlin'. Need a ride into work? I know night shoots suck." He asked, a smile in his voice. 

"No…don’t need a ride." Her voice was a croak, as tears and fear clogged it. Jensen heard immediately.

"Baby? What's wrong?"

"I need…I had…something happened. These guys, they jumped me…I didn’t notice them. I need someone to…I need help."

She heard Jensen's voice move away from the phone slightly as he called out.

"Jared! It's Y/N, she's hurt, come on!"

He spoke into the receiver again. "Hey, baby, everything's okay now." She actually smiled slightly; his voice was exactly as it had sounded in her head 

"Just tell us where you are, and we'll be there right away."

“I’m in the…the alley beside my building.” She looked down at herself and the dirt and blood that stained the white tank top and jeans she wore. “I’m bleeding, and they…they wrecked my shirt, they tore it.”

Jensen’s voice became softer. “It’s okay, Y/N, we're in the car now. We’re less than 5 minutes away. Jared’s calling the police; do you need an ambulance?”

Y/N shook her head before realizing that Jensen couldn’t hear her head shake. “No.” She said.

Her teeth began to chatter and her whole body began to vibrate as shock took over. “I don’t want…don’t wanna go to the hospital. I’m…I just want to go home. I can’t…I don’t think I can walk on my own, my ankle is…and my head’s…I’m kinda dizzy.”

“No, sweetheart, don’t try to move on your own. We’re so close now.” As he said it, Y/N could hear the screech of tires a block away as Jensen’s pickup truck squealed around the corner of her street and headed towards her block. 

She heard doors open and slam shut, and seconds later, Jensen and Jared loomed large, solid and reassuring at the entrance to the alleyway, silhouetted against the streetlights behind them. She sighed first, and then started crying.

They were here; she was safe.

They ran towards where she sat in the middle of the alley, skidding to a stop beside her and crouching down. The light in the alley was terrible, but Jensen did a quick sweep with his hands to see if anything seemed broken, while Jared held her gently, allowing her tears to seep into his t-shirt.

Seemingly reassured that there were no broken bones, Jensen scooped her up and carried her to her apartment. When they finally had her settled on her couch, with the lights shining bright overhead, she watched the fury bloom on their faces as they got their first good look at her injuries. 

“Who did this to you?” Jared asked as he sat down beside her and took her hand in his.

Jensen answered, his voice chillingly cold.. “Dead men. Dead men did this.” 

Jared shook his head. “Jensen.” He said warningly. “That’s not helping.”

Jensen’s jaw clenched and unclenched several times before he took a deep breath. “You’re right. Killing them can wait.” 

He walked away and returned a half minute later with a first aid kit and a cold cloth. He ran the cloth incredibly gently across her forehead and cheeks, and the coolness felt wonderful against her throbbing skin. They both spoke softly and reassuringly, and Y/N just let their words flow into her, and calm her racing heart and shaking limbs.

As the boys took turns using the first aid kit to tend to the cuts and bruises across her face, Jared seemed like he was working up to saying something. Finally he looked at Jensen and shook his head. In their usual silent communication, Jared seemed to be passing the conversation to Jensen. Y/N was curious what they were trying to say, so she finally just grabbed Jared’s hand where he was cleaning the particularly deep gash above her eyebrow.

“What is it?” She asked, worried her injuries were more dangerous than she’d thought. Maybe she should go to the hospital.

Jensen answered; he was on his knees in front of where she sat on the couch, but he still had to duck his head a bit, to be able to look her in the eye as he spoke.

“Baby, you said…earlier…” 

He took a breath, and tried again. “Sweetheart, you know nothing you say will change how much we love you, and we’ll…we’ll do whatever you need us to do.”

Y/N nodded; she did know that. From the moment she’d shown up on the set of Supernatural, the boys had taken her underwing like protective fathers, and even welcomed her into their homes happily, treating her as simply another member of their busy, beautiful families. They were the protectors and champions she’d always wanted, but had never been lucky enough to have. She trusted them and their love for her completely.

“So…” Jensen continued. “You said that, when I was talking to you before, you said that there was a group of people. They were guys?”

Y/N nodded.

“And you said…” Jensen gritted his teeth again harshly. “You said that they’d…ruined your shirt…tore it? Baby.” He pulled her shirt together where it was torn at the neck. “Baby, did they…hurt you?” At first Y/N was confused. Of course they hurt her, she was bruised and bleeding. But then she heard the way he put emphasis on the word “hurt”, and realized what kind of hurt he meant. 

She turned red, and shook her head quickly, looking at her lap and ignoring the way her skull ached. “No. I mean…no, they didn’t…didn’t hurt anything that won’t heal. They tore my shirt when they were grabbing and ripping at my necklace.”

Her eyes went wide and then filled with tears as she turned to Jared. “The necklace you got me for Christmas. They took it.”

“Oh, darlin’, don’t worry. I’ll buy you a new one, I promise.” Jared said as he pulled her head gently against his shoulder. 

Just then a knock came to the door. For the next half hour Jared and Jensen sat beside her as she gave a tearful accounting of the whole incident to the police officers who crowded into her small living room. They acted like twin pillars of strength, helping her through, and lending her their bravery when she needed it. 

Finally, the police left, advising that she go to the hospital because of her head injuries. The boys agreed and then, when she said again that she really didn’t want to go, they insisted.

Finally she caved, and within the hour she was admitted for observation at St. Francis Memorial. The boys stayed with her all night. Y/N dozed from time to time, but the nurses came in regularly to wake her up and ask her simple questions like where she was born or how to spell her name, just to make sure her concussion wasn’t getting worse. 

Whenever Y/N was awake, the boys would regale her with stories from when they were kids, stories from set, stories about their own kids. She had to keep telling them not to make her laugh so much - she had bruised ribs. 

When the morning came, and the doctors were satisfied with her test results and with the results of the CT Scan they’d done the night before, she was discharged and the boys took her home. By the time she got there, she was exhausted beyond belief. So, they simply tucked her up in her bed, and then pulled up chairs to sit beside her.

“You guys don’t have to stay.” She said with a deep yawn. “You must be exhausted too.”

They both raised their feet onto the bed beside her and leaned back in the chairs. “Yeah,” Jensen answered, “but we’re good here.”

Y/N considered arguing against their overprotectiveness, but admitted to herself that she needed it right now. So, she simply smiled at them, and snuggled deeper into her soft pillows and cozy blanket.

“Love you guys.” She said sleepily. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it kiddo.” They said together. 

Love it when they talk at the same time, she thought to herself with a smile as she drifted off to a peaceful sleep, knowing she was completely safe, with her heroes so nearby.

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[jay-anxiety]

Loki x Fem! Reader

“My Hero”

Warnings and notes: probably ooc but I have an obsession with soft Loki; emotional vulnerability; possible part 2

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Loki has been in this hellish cell for far too long. Day by day he’s questioned and accused and brought to his knees by these so called “Avengers.” He doesn’t even know how long he’s been there, what day it is. And every time he lies awake during the night, a bit more hope slips from him. He is angry and exhausted and waiting for an opportunity, any opportunity to get out.

Then, he hears footsteps. Gentle, soft footsteps that he is not used to. He wonders if they have sent someone new to torment him and he squeezes his eye shut, expecting the worst.

“Hello, darling.” A voice rings out into the air, a voice he recognizes. He shoots up and his eyes blow open as he sees you.

Beautiful you. Soft layered robes hitting the floor around you, you look weightless as you smile at him. He loses his voice as he sees you, eyes begging to know if you’re real or just a trick of his own mind.

“Don’t you remember me?” You say, silky sweet voice reaching his ears as he looks at you, finally hopeful.

“I do..” he says and hopes that you won’t disappear. His voice is weak and desperate and his body almost follows suit.

You smile. “Good,” and step through the barrier that Loki has spent god knows how long trying to break like nothing. You step close to him and extend a kind hand. “Come with me?”

Loki’s breath catches in his throat and he nearly cries. He looks at your hand for only a moment before standing and grabbing it like a lifeline, ready to follow you anywhere. “Are you sure?” He says like he’s scared of the possible disappointment of getting left behind again. Tears form in his eyes.

“Of course, my love.” You reply, voice so soft and reassuring. He doesn’t know what he feels, comfort? Relief? A tear slips from his water line as he feels your comforting hand come up to stroke his cheek and wipe away his tears. A shaky breath escapes him as he feels the warmth you enter him and course through his veins.

“You promise?” He asks, almost feeling pathetic as he searches for the reassurance. His hand tightening on yours.

“I swear it.” You say and squeeze his hand, your own eyes fighting emotion as his vulnerability courses through you. “Come on, darling. Let’s go, I’m going to take you home with me.”

You grip his hand and lead him, phasing the both of you through the cell and out of the door. You put a protective barrier around you both, guards and hero’s trying and failing to stop you as you hold him close and lead him out of the building. You tug him aboard your ship be give your pilot a nod. He starts the ship and within a few seconds, you are coasting away from Earth.

His body relaxes as the ship leaves Earth. Breath still shaking, scared he may wake up and find out it’s all a dream. He looks at you. And you smile at him.

“We’ll be at my home soon, darling, I promise.” You say as you hold his face in your hands, grounding him. You lead him to your large bedroom, a full window beside your bed and a luxurious bathroom attached. Like royal quarters in space. You lead him into the bathroom and begin to run the bath, grabbing spare robes from the closet. “You need to relax, I’ll leave you to take a bath and rest. You tell me if there is anything you need and I’ll get it for you.”

He looks around and then to the bathe, watching you leave with a warm smile on both your faces. He spends a long while soaking the dirt, sweat, and stress off of himself. Once he finally gets out, he puts on the soft robes of excellent quality that you had obviously brought just for him. Different shades of green threads woven together with gold, but still soft as clouds. He spends a few moments feeling the soft fabric between his fingers with a smile.

When he finally exits the bathroom, he finds you sitting peacefully on the couch near the window, looking at the stars. When you hear his footsteps, you perk up and turn to him with a smile, standing to tug him over to look out into the vast beauty of the galaxy.

“My darling I’ve missed you so much. They will never get to you again, I swear it.” You bring your hands up to hold his face, looking at him with so much love he thinks his cold heart may as well come out of his chest. “Anything in the universe you want, you’ll have it. As long as you’re with me, all you have to do is say the word. I’d give you galaxies, my love.”

He looks back at you, your words sinking into him and making his body temperature rise. He sees the sincerity in your eyes and knows you mean your words. “Anything?” He asks, unsure of himself.

“Anything.” You say with conviction, confident in the fact that you’d tear down civilizations, burn worlds, harness stars for him.

“I want you.” He says, so quietly you barely hear him. But you do and you smile, heart full. “Just you, that’s all I need now.” He brings his hands up to your face as your hands drop to his chest as he steps so close you can feel his desperate breath fanning your face.

“You have me, for however long you want.” You say, looking at him as if he’s hung the stars as you smile, full of love.

To Loki, at that moment, you are the stars. You created the galaxies, you shaped the planets with soft, gentle hands, and you blew your stardust on moons. He stares at you, drinking you in like the finest of Asgaurdian wines.

As much as you wish to let him gaze at you that way forever, his words and his touches and his eyes have lit a burning fire in you. You grow impatient, wanting to be content in letting him do as he pleases, but needing the sweet taste of his lips on yours. Lean into him, chests breathing with one another as you gently place your lips on his.

He breaths out a sigh he doesn’t know he’s been holding as he feels your soft, delicate lips on his soft ones. He groans and becomes hyperaware of everywhere you are. In that moment, he is entirely consumed by you. He feels like his heart is soaring and his mind is drowning in you, and he is more than happy to let himself sink. His body keens to yours as he caresses your face in that desperation to succumb to you.

His desperation to feel you, to have you, is palpable as you wrap your arms around his shoulders, falling with him into the blissful feeling of each other. You can feel his hands on your face and you can feel his breath and it’s all so overwhelming in the best way it ever could be.

The two of you break away from one another, still holding each other as he presses his forehead to yours. Neither of you open your eyes, content with the feeling of mutual longing for touch.

Loki whispers, “Thank you,” as he brings strong arms to hold you around your waist, gripping you with the hold of a man who has everything to lose.

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Aaaaand I did it, my first fic. I would love any feedback or constructive criticism if anyone that sees this has any 💕💕💕💕