#if I put even a little thought into it I could come up with plenty of reasons the government would stick him in a high security prison

[flowersforbucky]

lacy

bucky barnes x reader

i don't usually write short drabbles for bucky but i miss him and thought i'd put this little thought into words to get out of a bit of a writing slump that i've been in ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ happy valentine's day, babies

summary: bucky doesn't remember undergarments having so much fucking lace in the forties. but he thinks he can get used to it.

warnings/tags: 18+ mdni, adult themes, sensuality and implied smut, language, reader is afab, sweet teasing and banter, tfatws era

word count: 770+

bucky barnes masterlist

“What? Was lingerie not a thing back in the forties?”

Bucky watches from his position on the bed as you unzip your cocktail dress, the fabric falling from your shoulders and to the floor around your feet. He lays back against the headboard, his hands crossed behind his head. His eyes roam from the strappy heels that you have yet to shed and up your legs until his eyes settle on the black lace thigh holster that connects to a garter belt and matching panties.

You remove the small pistol from the holster, placing it on the dresser beside you before stepping away from the pool of burgundy colored satin at your feet. You crawl onto the bed, the peaks of your breasts threatening to spill out of your bra. You look up at him with a raised brow, still awaiting an answer to your question.

“It was,” he hums. “Can’t say I ever saw anything quite like this, though.”

He’s never seen anything quite like you is what he’s really thinking, but he bites his tongue. His feelings for you are far from being a secret, but he sometimes worries that if he truly spoke his mind every time he thought about how attractive he finds you, he’d never shut up.

His words are still true, though. He’d seen plenty of silk nightgowns and camisoles, but this – the intricate floral embroidery, the lace-lined edges of the cups of your bra, and the way the tight material accentuates every one of your curves just right – this is new territory for him.

“Never?” you quip. You crawl over him, positioning yourself across his lap. His hands come to rest on either side of your hips, the contrasting warmth of flesh and iciness of vibranium eliciting goosebumps across your exposed skin. “Not even online?”

He digs the tips of his fingers into the meat of your hips with the faintest amount of pressure. He doesn’t miss the way it makes you squirm, your clothed center nudging against the growing bulge concealed by his jeans.

“Online?” He huffs a laugh. “I think you’re forgetting that I have a flip phone.”

“Would it convince you to finally get a smartphone if I said I’d send you pictures of me wearing shit like this?”

He laughs, confident that you’d do just that. Considering the fact that you had been teasing him during a mission just a few hours prior, he doesn’t doubt for a second that you’d be more than happy to utilize technology to make him flustered.

“Tempting,” he admits. He dips a metal finger under the waistband of your panties, toying with it before lightly popping it against your skin. “But I have a hard time believing that pictures could do the real thing justice.”

You roll your eyes, playfully poking him in a spot between his ribs that you know to be ticklish. “You’re no fun.”

As swiftly as he can, he flips you so that you’re now pinned between him and the mattress. You look up at him with wide eyes, taken off guard by the sudden change in positions. Still, you automatically spread your legs enough for him to lay between them. He hovers above you, his gaze trailing from the mounds of your breast that peak out from the confines of the lacy bra and up to your lips.

He sits back on his knees, pulling your thigh back so he can grab one of your feet in his hands. He slowly slips the high heel off, not taking his eyes off of you as he tosses it behind him on the bed. He repeats the motion with your other foot, and presses a chaste kiss to the inside of your ankle.

“I'm no fun, huh? Does that mean you don’t want to sit on my face?”

Teasing you a little won’t hurt, he supposes. You’re normally the one dishing it out, and he’s normally the one blushing like a school girl – but he’s got to admit, he likes the way you’re looking at him right now. His heightened senses pick up on the familiar scent of your arousal and your quickened heart rate. He doesn’t need you to vocalize how you’re feeling or what you want; your body gives you away.

“Are you gonna take all of this off of me, or am I gonna have to?”

Your voice is teasing, but Bucky doesn’t miss the edge of impatience that slips through. He chuckles, taking one last, long look at the frilly undergarments. He likes them a lot, he can’t deny it – but he likes you without them even more.

recent bucky fics

all's well that ends well to end up with you - bucky isn't going to let an extended mission, a severe thunderstorm, and a delayed flight ruin your first valentine's day together

starry eyed - reader gets a gift from her secret santa

[oh-no-its-bird]

Its so funny u said this bc literally not even 2 minutes ago I was working on the fic.

It shall be out ,,, soon, ,, hopefully ,,, and when it does come out I will not so subtly use it as my vessel to expand on so much fucking warring states clan lore. You people will NOT know what hit u. (Me with a giant lore shaped hammer)

Anyways the evolution (or potential evolution, anyways. It exists in my mind) of the civillian perspective of shinobi and relationship between both groups throughout the years fascinates me.

Before the shinobi villages were formed, clans tended to either keep to themselves, self isolating, or wormed their way into courts in order to recieve political backing and wealth, setting up behind the seats of various wealthy or powerful individuals to maintain their status quo

I'm going to use the Hatake and the Shiranui as am example here:

The Hatake are a good example of an isolated clan— they're nomadic, having lived out in the Iron Woods for some generations now. They grow their own foods, make most of their own tools, and take occasional (usually intimidation) jobs to make coin in order to pay taxes and buy the few things they don't make on their own.

Meanwhile, the Shiranui were a clan known for poison and seduction, living in the capital shacked up pretty tightly with multiple noble houses in Fire. They had a powerful presence in the capital, and worked closely with plenty of political factions and dirty, under the table deeds. Political shinobi, through and through

Both clans give your every man a very specific impression of shinobi. Wild and dangerous when left alone, or pretty and lethal when 'seduced' into the capital. Powerful, dangerous things that might be tools of nobles if treated right.

Sorry idk if this quite makes sense, I am filled with a few abstract thoughts I'm having trouble putting to page but like—

warring states shinobi had a mixed bag of reputations but in general were treated as shiny commodities by the upper ranks, and dangerous animals by lower ranks. And their isolation and infrequent dealings with most common people only helped to feed into that narrative.

And of course, being treated that way was a tool many shinobi would use. (The Shiranui in general, seemed to play into this 'trope' expected of them for their own gains)

And then they shinobi villages are made, and not only are the clan's forced to break away from their previous ways of life, but they're also suddenly in a lot closer proximity to your common every man civillian

There isnt quite as much mystique there; it isn't as much as a huge event to see them. You can find them easily, just by visiting their villages, and watch them live their lives

All of a sudden, shinobi become a bit less scary shadow monsters and a bit more... people. Still scary and violent, yes. There's still a ton of stigma surrounding them, to be clear! Just,,, not as much as before.

The commercialization of their services also impacts this— while before, it was probably a trial to commission a clan to do a job— something usually only nobles or people with connections and nnow-how could do —now there's an entire, easily accessable system to send a job to a village and get a shinobi of your own

I think I may have gotten a bit side tracked but just. Mmm. The evolution of how shinobi are seen by people. By the time Boruto comes around they're even more normalized (and even a little dismissed, with all the talk about how the "age of shinobi is over")

As shinobi become more normalized and accessable, their way of life becomes less shiny and mysterious. And this ofc impacts their own way of life in turn, as they heavily rely on people for buisness and the like

Or something

Ok so. Slams this on the table. Notes from an unrelated fic, doesn't matter rn.

BUT.

I wanna have a conversation about the potential in-world fetishization of shinobi (from civilians and particularly noble courts who may view them as a sort of status to hold) + specific shinobi clans (also from other shinobi)

I have no specific thoughts or direction for potential plot w this one, I just think it's interesting to think about.

Ummm the evolution of fetishization to romanticization aimed at clans from the warring states into more modern eras. With shinobi being slightly less sexualized and more romanticized as time passes (and they can be mistaken as more "civilized" due to formation of villages helping with the stigma of the clans constantly being at eachothers throats + the sudden broadening of how easy it is to hire shinobi for things making them more accessible/normalized)

Tales of a gutsy ninja and other books probably also helped the culture shift, shout out to my boy Jiriyah for that one, thank u king

Anyways. More animalistic clans getting the brunt of those who want to "tame" a shinobi. Meanwhile more ""normal"" clans are mistaken for more approachable because of it and then often recieve the brunt of actual approaches / propositions

There are groups of just. REALLY freaky civilians out there who have Thoughts(tm) and Ideas(tm) ab shinobi. Word of advice to said shinobi? Avoid them like the plague. Never turns out well.

But idk, like I said I have no specific thoughts I just find the concept interesting. The civilian perspective of shinobi is a fun thing to think ab, in all it's aspects

[demons-art-hell]

Lore expansion on Joel's role in gbau!

Exposition: Vampires, whilst a proven fact in gbau, are still rather mystic and generally unheard of Typically, they're thought of as near exitinct, when it truth they live under the radar in secret

Those with express features such as pointed ears tend to explain it away by being Elyian (very brief overview! I will get more into how vampires function in a seperate post)

Continued under the cut

Anyway, This being the case, there is lots of prejudice towards vampires, and plenty of blatantly incorrect information, particularly of old historical and/or fictional nature

After reuniting with Grian and Mumbo (and being introduced to Scar) at an unofficial homecoming (hosted by Gem & The Scotts because they wanted to show off perform), Joel takes an interest in writing about the project they're both a part of

Whilst there, however.. He notices how strange and different Grian is

First, and most prominently, his feathers have gold bands on their edges Now, Joel isn't an expert on hybrids, let alone avians, but surely it doesn't make sense for a feather pattern to suddenly change somewhere in adulthood

Following that, not only are his wings singed gold but so are his eyes... And they seem to glow with it?

Possibly least importantly, the man isn't wearing glasses This, by itself, isn't suspicious, but knowing how Grian was in his teens, he HATED contact lenses, and Joel knows he can't see for shit without his glasses

When broached on this, Grian clams up about his wings, muttering something of it being medical, but as for his eyes, his excuse comes in the form of switching to contacts, and, while he's at it, choosing coloured ones

Joel is unsatisfied with this answer, as it doesn't explain the glow his eyes appear to have, nor does he believe Grian would ever get over hating contacts, but he doesn't press further

Later on in the night, he notices a fuss as Grian hurries out into the bathroom

When he asks, Mumbo, who'd stayed behind to make space for him to leave, responds that Grian started having sudden nose bleeds recently

Odd

This is all strange behaviour, but nothing about this sets Joel off to investigate until the day he actually goes in for his article

And sees distinct bite marks on Grian's neck Ones he flusters about and hides quickly

And the whole thing just snowballs from there

Glowing eyes in the dark? Suddenly not requiring glasses? Having 'nosebleeds' where he could be going off to do who knows what Finding someone to feed off of perhaps?

He can't explain the gold in the wings, but it sure only adds to his suspicion!

Joel begins making excuses to remain at their project's headquarters, spinning some story about wanting to make more articles as he (not so) subtly begins digging into Grian

He notes many things like how he always seem tired, sometimes even passing out around the building, and eventually scrounges up from somewhere that he changed jobs, abandoning his own project due to 'not being able to partake in the contruction' anymore

He notes how little Grian goes outside and, when he does, how little he flies compared to when he last saw him

Perhaps the sun makes him tired? Weak enough to not fly? He certainlly seems sickly enough for it

The more time passes the further into a hole he digs himself, noting how Grian appears to recover from injury too fast, how he turns to face people just a fraction too early compared to when they call him, and him knowing things he shouldn't

Such as where someone is in the building, even if Joel KNOWS he hasn't seen them all day

It gets concerning, in fact, how much he puts into this

I love conspiracy theorist Joel He's incredibly suspicious of everything Grian does now, believing it to be an evil vampire plot of some sort I will probably try and write something on the makeshift homecoming, so that I can introduce more characters and their roles/magic in this au Note on the comic: A plaster is a band aid Also I call this a homecoming, but the school system in this universe will be closer to the British schooling system than the American one. Because I don't know anything about it. It confuses me Second notes: The 'project' Grian Scar and Joel are a part of is a hermitcraft equivalent. Eventually I will get everyone moving into the area! starting with Joel convincing Lizzie they should start up a second branch of their cafe there And the project Grian worked on before the incident is a life series equivalent! Alright! Good day, good evening, good night!

[leapingbadger]

Unconditional Love

Happy Valentines Day!

This is my entry for Pabu's Festival of Love. The prompt was "Friendship Bracelets". I hope you enjoy!

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Read It on AO3!

Hunter woke with a start. It didn’t happen much these days unless a moon-yo had gotten into the house or Wrecker had forgotten to duck and whacked his head on the door frame into the kitchen while in search of a midnight snack.

This sound wasn’t any of those though. He reached for his vibroknife, more out of habit than because he thought he’d actually need it. The light was on in the common room and as he quietly opened the door to his bedroom, he saw Omega sitting on the floor in front of the caf table, her arms flying around her as she tried to collect something.

“Omega?” he asked, brushing his hair out of his eyes. He looked at the chrono in the corner, “Why are you up at three in the morning?”

“It’s okay, Hunter. She whispered, “Don’t come in. Go back to sleep.”

The sleepiness he was still holding onto disappeared instantly at her words. If anything was going to wake him, it was knowing his kid was trying to keep him out of whatever she was doing. He put down his knife and walked around the back of the sofa.

“No, no, no. You’re not supposed to see,” she said, throwing herself over the table in the hopes of hiding whatever she as doing.

She sat cross legged on the floor, Batcher’s sleeping head resting on her knee, colorful beads were littered all over the table and scattered on the floor.

Hunter again looked at the chrono, sure he had gotten the time wrong because there was no reason for her to be up at this time playing with beads.

“Kid, what are you doing? You have school in the morning.” He said, instantly recoiling at how much he sounded like Shep. He made a mental note to tell him he was a bad influence the next time he saw him.

“It’s for love day. You weren’t supposed to see. It was going to be a surprise.”

Hunter blinked at her, sighed and sat down on the couch behind her. “Okay, you’re going to have to start from the beginning. What is a love day?” he asked, grabbing the hair tie from her wrist and pulling his long, dark hair off his neck.

She turned to look at him, looking slightly embarrassed. It wasn’t a face she pulled often, maybe once or twice if her brothers came to collect her from school or when Crosshair tried to flirt with the woman who owns the bakery in the marketplace.

“Love day. It’s a day where you tell people you love them or something. I don’t know. It’s a Pabu thing. It’s this Saturday.”

“I’ve never heard of it,” he said.

“That’s because you don’t talk to anyone but Shep and Phee.” She said teasingly.

“I talk to plenty of people.” Hunter said with a chuckle. “I talked to your teacher the other day.”

Omega rolled her eyes, “Yeah, you need to stop that. She has a crush on you and it’s an embarrassment for all involved.”

“How is it an embarrassment to me? I don’t have the crush.” He said, not quite believing he was having this particular conversation in the middle of the night.

She gave him the look only a teenager could, “trust me.”

He sighed; the kind of sigh he used to reserve for conversations with Crosshair but had recently been extended to Omega. “Okay, so it’s love day. Why does that mean you’re up in the middle of the night?”

“Remember, Phee brought me that bead kit a while back? Well, I thought I’d make bracelets as gifts.”

Hunter smiled. She may be growing up too fast for his liking but there was still something of his little girl in there, even if it was usually hidden behind eye rolls and sarcasm these days.

“That’s sweet Kid, but you can make bracelets for your friends at school. You don’t need to be doing it tonight”

Now it was Omega’s turn to sigh and Hunter was suddenly struck by how many of his own mannerisms she had picked up over the years. If she pinched the bridge of her nose, it would be like looking in a mirror.

“They’re not for my friends. They’re for you. All of you.” She said sweetly. “But now they’re everywhere and the one I was making is buried in the rug.”

“Do you…need help?” he asked.

“Really? You’d help me with this?” she asked, her bright eyes wide.

Hunter couldn’t say picking up beads or making bracelets was what he really wanted to do at this time of the morning, but if it meant getting her back to bed sooner, he was willing to try. He nodded reluctantly.

“Well, first we need to pick everything up, then put them in piles according to color and then string them.”

“Omega, that’s going to take hours.” He said.

She nodded happily and started picking individual beads off the floor. Hunter rolled off the couch and got on his hands and knees, feeling around for the beads.

“You know, Crosshair would probably be more helpful with this,” he said jokingly.

“Should we wake him?” Omega asked, carefully reaching for a bead that had fallen on Batcher’s nose.

“I think you know the answer to that, Omega,” Hunter said with a grin.

She nodded and they continued.

It didn’t take long before the piles had been formed. Omega pulled out some thin cords and handed a piece to Hunter.

“Whose bracelet do you want to make?”

Hunter shrugged, “it doesn’t matter,” he said.  

She pushed a small pile of green beads across the table to him and then another pile of black beads.

“This is for Wrecker.” She said. “It’s Jade. It’s supposed to represent health, love and wisdom.” She said with her eyebrows raised.

“Who told you that?” Hunter asked.

She shrugged, “it came with the kit. All the stones have meanings. I didn’t have enough to go around so I bought some black stones from the market. They’re made from the rock of Pabu.”

Hunter stopped threading a bead and looked at her in wonder. “You’ve put a lot of thought into this,” he said in admiration.

She shrugged again but the apples of her cheeks turned pink, “it’s important to me.” She said, “You’re all important to me.”

“You’re important to us too, kid.” Hunter said, as he continued to thread the beads. “So, what do the other stones mean?”

Omega’s eyes lit up as she picked up the list from the packaging. “The Orange one, Carnelian, is for Echo. It represents courage and clarity. It can uplift the mind and improve the spirit.”

“Well, the courage part certainly fits.” Hunter said and he threaded another bead.

Omega nodded in agreement, “the clear quartz is for Crosshair. I didn’t think he’d like the other colors. Besides, it’s supposed to help with healing. Mental, physical and emotional…I just thought…I mean, it can’t hurt, right?”

Hunter smiled and nodded. “Yeah, Kid. I’m sure he’ll love it. What about the pink one? Is that for you?”

Omega hesitated. “No…” she said suddenly apprehensive.

“Oh, it’s mine?”

“No,” she said again, “It’s…It’s Tech’s,” she said.

Hunter blinked at her for a moment. Wishing he could think of something to say but failing to come up with anything.

“You’ll probably think it’s stupid,” she said.

Hunter sighed and put down Wrecker’s bracelet, “I would never say that.”

She smiled, the same sad smile that always accompanied a conversation about their lost brother. They tried to talk about him often, to bring him up in conversation to keep him alive, because to forget…well, they just couldn’t do that. He was a part of them, a part of their family, and no matter how much time passed, they always wanted him there, even if it was in name only.

Hunter had started to worry that he would soon forget the sound of his voice, or the distinct beat of his heart. He had all the heartbeats of his family memorized, initially out of necessity from their days as Kaminoan test subjects, but later as a failsafe. He could tell if something was wrong by the patter of their hearts.

He could hear Omega’s heart pounding against her chest, flustered at the turn in conversation. “What does the pink stand for, Omega?” He asked gently. He tried to keep his tone neutral, even though the devastation at the loss of his brother threatened to bubble up again. It was never too far from the surface, despite how many years had passed.

She smiled, her eyes suddenly watery, “It’s rose quartz. I…I chose it because it represents… unconditional love.” She whispered.

Hunter could tell her voice was getting stuck in her throat. She choked on a sob, and he crossed to her in time to feel the first tear fall on his shoulder. He rubbed her back as she dissolved, leaning into him as her body convulsed.

“Shh, it’s okay.” He said softly, rocking her back and forth.

After a few minutes she gave a shuddering breath and pulled away, wiping her nose on her sleeve, just like she used to when she was a kid.

“Sorry,” she muttered.

Hunter gently wiped the remaining tears from her cheeks and cupped her face in his hand. “It’s okay to miss him, Omega. I miss him every day.” He said softly.

“We didn’t get to say goodbye,” she said, her tears threatening to fall again.

Hunter nodded, “I know.”

“We didn’t even memorialize him,” she said, this time the tears won, and she started crying again.

Hunter paused and realized she was right. The time after Tech’s death was so fraught they didn’t have time to think about it. Hunter and Wrecker were so immersed in their search for Omega, Tech’s absence only came up during quiet moments in hyperspace when the vacuum of his presence could be felt more readily.

By the time they got Omega and Crosshair back they were on to the next thing, the next mission, the search for Tantis, and then Omega was gone again. Once they finally settled on Pabu, free and hopeful, Tech’s goggles remained a talisman, but they’d never really said goodbye.

“Maybe we should fix that,” Hunter said as he brushed her wet, tear-soaked hair from her face.

She sniffed, “what do you mean?”

“We’ll do something for Tech, on Saturday. Love day.” He said.

She nodded her approval, unable to vocalize it and sat upright, taking another shuddering breath.

They stayed there until the sunlight licked the horizon and the moon-yos started chirping happily,  talking and laughing as they threaded the beads onto the strings.

By the end they had four completed bracelets for Wrecker, Crosshair, Echo and Tech. Omega refused to let Hunter know what beads he was getting, telling him it would be a surprise for Love day.

***

Hunter chose sunset as the time for Tech’s memorial. It had always been his favorite time of day on Pabu, when the sun had started to sink below the horizon, scattering light over the sea, the waves twinkling in the light, while the sky was dark enough to see the flickering stars above.

Echo hadn’t needed any encouragement to show up. He arrived the day after Hunter’s comm, dropping his bag in the doorway and standing, arms wide for Omega to dive into. She brushed a hasty tear away as she buried her face in his neck and if nothing else came of this memorial, he was glad to have all his brothers back in one place.

Omega had spent the day with friends at the marketplace. Musicians had been set up along with a dance floor and special delicacies from the planets of Pabu’s refugees. It was a true community event, the kind of thing Hunter still struggled to fully partake in. He preferred to observe from the fringe, leaning up against the weeping mya tree. He noticed Omega’s teacher wave and waved back, careful to heed Omega’s warning. He appreciated having an excuse to escape early.

The beach was empty when he arrived, he could hear the music from the party pulsing in his enhanced senses. Could feel the rhythm in the ground and much as in his ears.

Crosshair, Echo and Wrecker were quick to join him. If they thought it was a silly idea, they hadn’t said anything. The memorial wasn’t really for Tech anyway, it was for Omega. For all of them.

Omega arrived at the beach breathless and happy, her cheeks pink for spending all day in the sun. Her long, loose, blonde curls hung past her shoulders. She wore a frilly pink dress she must have been loaned by Lyana. She giggled like a little girl as Wrecker twirled her around in greeting. Hunter clocked the green and black bracelet on his wrist.

He checked Crosshair and Echo and they too proudly wore their love day bracelets. He wasn’t sure if Omega had shared the meanings of the stone, and it didn’t much matter. She could have given them a rock and they would have carried it proudly.

Omega came to stand beside him at the shore. The clear waves rolling over his feet. She held up her dress slightly to keep it dry.

“You left before I could give this to you this morning,” she said, holding out her palm and showing him a turquoise and black bracelet. The beads were the color of his old armor and Tech’s favorite color. He wasn’t sure if that was an accident or not.

“Thanks, Kid. What does this one mean?” he asked, rolling the smooth beads over in his fingers before putting it on his right wrist.

“It’s called Amazonite. It represents Hope.” She said, her big eyes looking up at him nervously.

Hunter nodded and smiled, “Do you think I need hope? Or do I already have it?” he asked curiously.

Omega shrugged. She took hold of his hand, something she hadn’t done in a long time, and intertwined her fingers in his. “It said if trouble appears, this helps you navigate it with confidence and makes sure you’re on the right path. That’s what you do, Hunter. What you’ve always done.”

Hunter felt his voice catch in his throat, “thanks, Kid.” He said, pulling her into a hug. He held her hand in his, noticing for the first time the bracelet on her wrist. It was black, green, orange, pink, clear and turquoise. Omega’s bracelet carried the colors of all of her brother. Hunter wasn’t sure how he could possibly love her more.

Turning around he noticed the rest of his guests had arrived. Shep and Lyanna stood off to the side, talking to Crosshair and Echo.

Phee had cut a treasure hunting trip short, giving up a score for a formal goodbye to her beloved Brown Eyes. Hunter wished Tech had gotten his happy ending with Phee. But he was glad to still have her in his life and that of the rest of his family.

Hunter crossed to the others, picking up a small wreath made of purple vines that grew on some of the gardens around the island. Lyana had been kind enough to braid it together. He held it out for Omega and watched as her trembling hands twisted the pink and black bracelet in between the leaves, making sure the beads stayed in place.

With a jerk of his head, Omega, Echo, Crosshair and Wrecker followed him to the shore. He handed the wreath to Omega.

“Is there anything you want to say?” he asked.

She nodded and opened her mouth, only for words to fail her. Again, she had a sob stuck in her throat. Wrecker’s shovel sized hand patted her gently on the shoulder and tears fell into the sand.

“I…I can’t,” she squeaked, looking up at Hunter for support.

Hunter sighed. He had thought this might happen. He didn’t have anything prepared, wasn’t really one for giving speeches, Ironically, that had always been Tech’s job.

“We wanted to take this opportunity to say goodbye to Tech, or Brown Eyes, as some of you may remember him,” he said with a wink to Phee. Her cheeks blushed; her twinkling eyes downcast but a smile spreading on her lips as she stared at the sand.

“There isn’t much I can say about him that you don’t already know. He was forthright, stubborn and always the smartest person in the room. But he was also kind, thoughtful and caring in his own way. He loved deeply, even if he couldn’t always express it. He saved us all because of that.” Hunter stopped, hearing “plan 99” in the comm and the distance cries of Omega and Wrecker, the screeching sound of metal on metal. The crash. He physically shook his head to rid himself of the memory.

“He was the person I always looked for over my  shoulder. Still do, actually…” Hunter said, more to himself than anyone. “…and he was a great brother.” He turned to look at Omega, Crosshair, Echo and Wrecker in turn.

The bruiser wiped an errant tear from his cheek. Crosshair’s eyes were downturned while Echo’s amber gaze was attentive. He gave Hunter a nod of encouragement to continue.

“I don’t know what happens when you die. But I do know that sometimes, when the sea is still and the island is calm, I can still sense my brother. And if that isn’t love persevering, I don’t know what is.”

Hunter kneeled down and wiped more tears from Omega’s cheeks “Ready?” he asked. She nodded wordlessly.

The four brothers flanked her as they waded into the water. The skirt of Omega’s pink dress floated up around her, but she didn’t seem to mind. She carefully laid the wreath in the water, adjusted the bracelet of unconditional love she had created for her fallen brother, and pushed.

They watched as the sun continued to fall under the horizon, the purple wreath bobbing as it slowly wended its way out to sea. Omega took hold of Hunter’s hand, pulling his arm to her and hugging it.

“Thank you,” she whispered, a single tear tracking down her cheek.

Hunter pulled her into a hug, placing a gentle kiss on the top of her head. They continued to stay there, in the water, watching as the wreath ebbed and flowed until it was out of sight, disappearing into the setting sun.

❤️❤️❤️

[klonnieshippersclub]

Curse of the Damned

Happy Valentines Day guys! Here’s a little Klonnie treat from me to you! Some nasty witch hexed our favorite Original Hybrid and the town witch is forced to save him. A little blood sharing never hurt anyone.

Bonnie stood in the dimly lit Mikaelson mansion, flipping through her grimoire as if she wasn’t about to help Klaus Mikaelson again. She was so done with the supernatural. Something always pulled her right back in. And now? She was here to cure a monster, all because some witch decided Klaus needed a bloodlust to rival a rabid animal.

Sure, Klaus had earned plenty of his pain, but this curse? Reckless. She didn’t care what he’d done—fixing his mess wasn’t her problem. Yet, here she was, the only one who could do it. Of course. And as much as she hated it, part of her knew she didn’t have a choice.

The Mikaelson siblings—Elijah, Kol, and Rebekah—hovered around her, desperate. Klaus was locked in the dungeon, bloodlust spiraling out of control. After he’d bitten Kol (who wouldn’t stop whining about it), they called Bonnie for help. The cure was tied to her blood—the only blood that could save him.

A shiver crawled down her spine, but it wasn’t from fear. She could walk away. But she wouldn’t. Not with innocent lives at risk.

Bonnie sighed, moving to face the inevitable. So much for peace.

Her heart thudded as she stepped into the dungeon, the air cold and damp like it was trying extra hard to make this more dramatic. And there he was, chained up in the center of the room—disheveled and wild-eyed, but still devastatingly handsome.

His eyes snapped to hers the moment she entered. A smirk curved his lips as he studied her. "Ah, Bonnie Bennett," he drawled, his voice smooth despite his thirst. "I was wondering when you'd show up. You know, I’ve always had a soft spot for witches... especially those as delicious as you." 

Bonnie rolled her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest. "I didn’t come to flirt, Klaus," she said dryly. "You don’t need to put on the charm to get me closer. My blood is the cure to your little curse." 

Klaus' smile widened, the hunger in his eyes flickering as he tugged at the chains. "Well, well, love. How convenient. Here I thought I’d have to woo you, but it seems my lucky day has arrived early. How generous of you to offer up your blood like that. I should be flattered, shouldn’t I?"

Bonnie shot him a deadpan look. "Yeah, sure. Just think of me as your personal blood bank. No need for the sweet talk." 

Klaus chuckled, leaning against the stone wall. "Oh, I’m not one to waste a good opportunity. And I must admit, I’ve always been a fan of your... feisty spirit. I do love a challenge." His eyes darkened with something more dangerous. "So, tell me, Bonnie. What makes you so sure I won’t just take what I need... and a little more?"

She met his gaze, her voice unwavering. "Because if you even think about it, I’ll make sure you regret it. And you’ll be locked in here forever." 

Klaus gave her an exaggerated pout. "Oh, you wound me, love. But very well, I’ll play by your rules." 

Bonnie took a step closer. "Just don’t make it weird, Klaus." 

His grin was almost predatory as he watched her approach. "You know, Bonnie, I think you’re the one making this very interesting."

"Shush. Now drink up, and let’s get this over with."

Bonnie’s breath hitched as he bent down into her space, so close she could feel the heat radiating off his body. He reached out, his fingers brushing the side of her face.

He tilted his head, eyes never leaving hers, his lips brushing against the skin of her neck. Bonnie gasped softly, her body betraying her. “Bonnie…” Klaus groaned, his breath warm against her skin. “I’ve never wanted something as much as I want you.”

She closed her eyes, the ache in her chest intensifying. His words, his touch—they were overwhelming. And she was powerless against it. Klaus pressed a gentle kiss against her sensitive skin before sinking his teeth in.

The bite was sharp, intense. Bonnie's eyes widened as she gripped the chains that held him. A flood of heat coursed through her veins, as his fangs pierced deeper. The need to protect, to stop him from hurting anyone else, warred with the unfamiliar, thrilling sensation of his mouth on her skin.

Klaus drank deeply, his hold on her tightening as he fed. Bonnie found herself arching slightly into his touch. There was something magnetic about the way Klaus consumed her, about the way he kissed her, about the way he worshipped her blood. 

When he finally pulled away, he yanked his arms free of the chains. His eyes were almost feral, and yet so vulnerable. His lips were stained with her blood, and Bonnie could feel the magic flowing through her, binding them together.

She swallowed hard, her voice barely a whisper. “It’s done. You’re cured.”

Klaus’ voice was low, a promise in his words. “This isn’t over, Bonnie.”

[xianzhou-craftsman]

Perhaps that is an answer that he owes, yes. Yingxing thinks on it for a moment. There is a lot he can still only speculate on, considering he does not remember and does not want to look into any records of what has been done to him, if they even exist at all. But he's been to see medics about it, and plenty of clever people, including himself, have put pieces together. "My body holds a piece of the Flint Emperor's body. A dead, disconnected piece that's... dissolved, more or less. It allows me access to a very limited power-supply." He summons a flame, lets it dance in the palm of his hand. Its color is still golden, like the Abundance, rather than the typical blue of a heliobus, of the pseudo-sun at the center of the Flamewheel Forge. "It seems like that came first, and at some point afterwards, I was... infested with a similar kind of immortality to the Xianzhou Natives. I have a core esse in my body, but it's not functional. Rather, the essence of the Flint Emperor, and the essence of Abundance joined into one. It's decentralized, spread through every cell in my body. The two powers keep each other in check. The flames burn out the plant life, something like that. It's possible that will make it less likely for me to be struck with mara, but... honestly, who knows? If my body contains some sort of miracle cure, you'll be the first to know."

He doubts he'd be able to extend his limited healing to such a degree though. Even if he would like to help Ren. Keep Jing Yuan from succumbing to that fate eventually as well. But he's not that optimistic. It sounds too convenient, like too much of a good thing taken from the horrors he's been through. The world does not work like that. If his condition makes him immune to mara, or more resistant to it, that only means he will watch others suffer for longer.

There must still be things he can fix though, and he reaches out to take Ren's hand between his, flipping it palm-up to press his fingertips to it. Not that he knows what he's doing, but he still inspects it carefully. "Nerve damage?" he suggests, "You might have been injured to a point where your faster healing only made it worse. Like a broken bone healing itself at the wrong angle and having to be rebroken." In that case, a solution wouldn't be entirely off the table. But it's just as likely to be a result of Ren's mind being eaten away at by the mara. It could be both. Is probably both. The thought is deeply troubling. Yingxing values his hands equally to his brilliant mind. Losing their dexterity, their sensitivity, would be a nightmare. "... well, at least if there's some knowledge you'd like to reacquire, I can help with that. The rest... give me some time to think about the problem." Even if Ren ends up never swinging a hammer again, it would still be a massive success if Yingxing could figure out how to help him be a bit less uncomfortable in his body at all times.

His counterpart is just full of questions today, and Yingxing huffs a laugh. It comes out a little bitter. "Do I wish to go back to being helpless in enemy hands? No, I don't think so. Not knowing what exactly they did to me keeps me up at night... but knowing would be worse. I wake up screaming with no recollection of what terrified me so in my dreams. Innocuous things can give me- panic attacks. I can put together some of what happened, and I'd rather not know more. I am here now, and I will make myself useful. Regardless of the past. Just like I've always done." He pauses, then, averts his gaze to the sky. "I suppose, if there was a way to travel back in time, and go home from there, I might be tempted. But it's too late now anyway. Here, there, it makes no difference. Seven-hundred years are a greater distance than the veil between worlds."

“ how does it work for you ? ” the question seems to come out of nowhere, but in truth, it’s something ren has been pondering for quite some time. his own relationship with life and death is already tangled enough without prying into the lives of others. what he truly despises are those who tamper with the natural cycle — those who cannot accept death as a peaceful inevitability, who reject the brevity of life or the rhythm of its rise and fall. ren likes to think yingxing would be no exception to this disdain, though in reality, he would likely find a way to be understanding. a brief flicker of distaste crosses his face, a fleeting frown, before his expression settles back into neutrality. “ your immortality, i mean. ” 

in some ways, it’s reassuring to know there’s at least one person out there — someone like yingxing, whose resilience, both mental and physical, means they’re likely to outlive others. it grants ren the comfort of more time with them. but alongside that comfort comes a deep wariness of just how dangerous such longevity can be. having lived for so long himself, ren understands all too well the toll it takes on the mind. eternity is exhausting, a promise that often feels more like a curse, forever keeping true peace out of reach. his fingers find the bandages on his palm, fidgeting with them — tightening, loosening, pulling, and repeating the cycle. stillness doesn’t sit well with him, it stirs a restlessness that runs bone-deep, an itch he cannot shake.

“ i can’t craft weapons anymore, it is mostly due to the lack of memories. ” mostly. ren withholds part of the truth in that moment, his gaze fixed on his hands as they diligently work the bandage. though his body has weathered time better than his mind, the mara has a cruel way of unraveling him in the most excruciating ways. whether it’s hesitation or something deeper that holds him back, it doesn’t last long. soon enough, he collects himself, slipping back into his usual composure. “ my hands are ... tired. numb ? i do not recognize the feeling of the forge as i once did. it is like a small static field between me and everything i touch, weapons included. ” 

it’s the most explanation he can offer for now, the rest is a tangled web of complications with no clear origin. it could be the mara, the passage of time, or the cumulative toll of everything his body has endured. ren doesn’t know — and the uncertainty eats away at him. “ i don’t know how you feel regarding the whole cryo-sleep thing. are you indifferent ? do you wish to go back to it ? or perhaps it haunts you, a nightmare even i can’t imagine. ” 

[rotisseries]

there was literally no reason for the government to stick dazai in mersault actually, like the only thing his ability does is nullify others. they could have stuck him in any old 6 by 8. in fact I think he'd have been in there longer if they'd done that

[halfgirl-halfdolll]

Extremely self-indulgent. For the neurodivergent girlies. English isn't my first language, so my apologies for any mistake. I also have no idea how to write a Scottish accent 🧘🏻‍♀️ bear with me

You knocked on the dark hardwood door as you've had done plenty of times before.

It has been almost six months since you've signed that contract. That one, the one where you forfeited 4 years of your life in exchange for stable wages and proper housing.

For someone with no life, no family and no friends (besides the online weirdos you'd talk to from time to time), that was kinda good, if you could say so yourself.

You had stability, even though it came with the cost of being tied down to a military base chock-full of people who didn't really understand you.

That was fine though. THAT, you were used to. It comes with the neurodivergence: the side eyes, the whispers and the isolation.

What you weren't used to, however, was how your heart would race like a rabbit on a run for its life whenever you knocked on that one door. And you had to knock on it quite a lot of times.

You rapped your knuckles against the hardwood once more when you got no reply, cracking the door open just a little bit to peek inside.

"Cap?" You said, voice almost a whisper. After a few seconds, you heard an answer.

"Come in, love. Didn't know it was you." A strong, booming voice came from inside and you swallowed the lump on your throat that always formed whenever you had to go to Price's office.

Not because you were afraid of him, no. On the contrary. Maybe Price and the rest of the task force were the only ones who didn't treat you like an aberration – probably because they were aberrations of their own merit.

Maybe it was stupid of you to get giddy over being treated well by some of your coworkers, but when the bare minimum was so rare, you latched onto it like a dog with a bone.

And in spite of yourself, you couldn't control your own heart. It would be racing like a schoolgirl with a crush whenever you went to visit any of the men from the task force. You gave up on trying to tame it.

"Hi Cap" you said, with a small smile, approaching his desk. On the corner of your eyes, you saw the other three burly men that made up 141 and waved.

"Hey, lass, good ta see ya!" Soap hollered, voice loud as ever. You could probably feel it vibrating inside your bones if he spoke for a little longer and you loved it; as much as you envied it. What wouldn't you do to be just a little bit outgoing like that? Maybe things would be just a tad easier.

"How can I help my favorite secretary?" Price asked, the corner of his eyes wrinkling as he smiled, crow's feet getting a lot more pronounced in a way you probably thought of more than you should.

You scoffed, rolling your eyes.

"I'm your only secretary."

"Doesn't make my statement any less true."

You shook your head and placed a manila folder in front of him.

"I need your autograph, Cap."

"What for?"

"Because I'm your biggest fan and I wanna put it on my refrigerator...?" You answered humorously, and Price raised an eyebrow. You sighed. "We need to authorize the training of a few new recruits and they need your approval. So I need you to sign it."

Price huffed out a low chuckle and began leafing through the needlessly thick document. You poked your finger into the folder, fishing out the last pages, and walked towards the other men sitting on the other side of the office.

"I like today's dress, love." Gaz was manspreading on one of Price's armchairs, head resting on his palm as he gave you an once over. If it were anyone else, you'd probably hate the way you were being perceived – it usually made you feel like a bug being watched through a magnifying glass. But under his gaze, you just felt like a doll being admired.

"Do you, now? It's one of my favorites." You bowed dramatically while holding the hem of the dress. It was just another one of the black frilly dresses that you wore like a signature. It flew around you as you spun on your feet to show the black ribbon on the back.

"Adorable as always. If I wasn't selfish, I would say it's wasted inside this base, but I like to have you around way too much." His eyes gleamed with mirth and, in any other situation, you'd think he was secretly mocking you – but not Kyle. Not any one of them. You knew the compliments were genuine, even if they didn't understand why you insisted on sticking out like a sore thumb when it brought you so many problems.

You knew they would never really understand how masking could hurt you, but you were grateful they still defended your decision on just being yourself.

"Look at tha' key on yer neck." Soap pointed at your necklace. "I ken what's tha' for. It's the key to my heart, aye?" He said with an exaggerated wink and a smile that could blind you.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever you say." You rolled your eyes, smiling, and pushed a paper into his hand and did the same with Gaz and Ghost.

"I need your autographs as well. You heard my explanation already."

" 'm not built for a life of fame, love." Simon grunted, shifting on his seat right beside Soap.

"Too late, the spotlight already found you. Now you gotta give me your autograph or I'm gonna cancel you on social media."

He huffed.

"Don't ya think I should have been canceled a long time ago?"

"Probably." You shrugged, and handed him a pen. "I like my favorites problematic, what can I say."

Soap barked out a laugh, mindlessly scanning the document and Ghost merely shook his head.

"Do I gotta sign this? Don't really feel like training new runts." The masked man muttered and you shrugged.

"Don't shoot the messenger. I don't really want new young men around me either." You walked back towards Price's desk after collecting the documents and placed them neatly inside the folder after he was done surveying every single fine print.

"What do you guys want for lunch?" You asked as you tucked the documents under your arm. Price clicked his tongue.

"You don't have to keep bothering with making food for us, love. We can all eat at the canteen like everyone else." The older man leaned back on his chair, folding his arms.

You looked to the side, with a small pout on your lips.

"But if I make you guys' lunch, then I can emotionally blackmail you into eating with me at the kitchen." You mumbled, avoiding any and all eye contact.

"So it was all a ploy to keep us nearby? I thought you were doing that because you liked us. I'm so hurt, dear." Kyle spoke up from his seat, a dramatic hand over his chest as he leaned his head back. You put a hand over your mouth, hiding your grin.

"Maybe I'm just learning a thing or two from hanging around tacticians?"

"Aw, Captain, come on. How can we leave the poor doll hangin'? And we get ta eat actually good food, not that canteen slop! Come on!"

Price sighed, shaking his head in defeat.

"Anything you make will be great, love."

"As long as it has proteins and carbs." Ghost added from his seat and you snickered. He had already seen you eating your comfort foods before and, needless to say, he didn't approve of them.

"As long as it has proteins and carbs." Price repeated, with a nod.

"Proteins and carbs, okay, got it." You said with a fierce nod, walking back towards the door to the older man's office. "Meet you guys at the kitchen?"

"1200, sharp." Price said, with eyes as soft as the smile under his moustache. You gave him a small salute on your way out.

"Yessir."

This will probably be a little anthology of scenes I think of, involving poly!141 x neurodivergent reader who works for them as a secretary. They might not have much continuity but I'm using this as a self-healing, self-indulgent blog, separated from my main. Expect mostly fluff and angst from me.

[monster-disaster]

[monsters] Neighbors

Thoughts about living with monsters- You live in an apartment with monsters all around.

An orc family lives above you, and they’re the sweetest neighbors you’ve ever had. The wife loves inviting you over for coffee and a bit of gossip. Her stories fill the air with warmth as she pours your cup and chats about the neighborhood or shares a delicious new pastry she’s baked. Her husband? He’s a gentle giant, always ready to roll up his sleeves and help out around your small flat. Whether it’s fixing a leaky faucet or carrying heavy groceries up the stairs, he’s there before you even ask.

And then, there are the babies; two adorably chubby little ones with soft, green cheeks and big, curious eyes. You’ve become their go-to babysitter, which means plenty of afternoons filled with giggles and messy faces.

But when night falls, it’s a different story.

The ceiling might as well be paper-thin, with their gravelly voices and laughter rolling through the floorboards. Sometimes, those conversations turn into... well, more intimate moments and the babies aren’t just cute, they’ve got lungs that could rival any set of bagpipes. Their cries often jolt you awake in the middle of the night, heart racing.

Even with the sleepless nights, you never find it in yourself to complain, though. There’s a warmth to their noise, a liveliness that fills your small flat with a sense of family, even if it comes with a few sleep-deprived mornings.

Beneath you on the first floor lives a goblin who’s practically made it his life’s mission to comment on every noise you make. You do your best to avoid him, but it’s only a matter of time before you bump into him, leaning against his doorframe with arms crossed and an unimpressed scowl etched on his face.

He never misses an opportunity to complain.

“Your steps are like thunder up there. Ever heard of walking lightly?” he grumbles, or “How many times do I have to tell you? Lift the chairs, don’t drag them! Sounds like a damn avalanche down here!” And that’s not even the worst of it. The day he leaned in closer, his eyes narrowing as he muttered, “And for god’s sake, put a pillow over your face next time you play with your vibrating friend,” your face burned hotter than a forge. You were sure the ground might split open beneath you right then and there.

Since that conversation, you’ve found yourself tiptoeing around your flat, trying to keep your footsteps as light as possible, but even with your efforts, you know the next run-in with him is just around the corner, along with another list of grievances he’s been stewing over.

To your right lives a wolf-shifter, and for the most part, things between you are easygoing. He’s a quiet neighbor, the type who nods at you in the hallway and even offers a polite smile now and then. But his love life? That’s where the peace ends. His one-night stands, in particular, are the worst. You’ve lost count of how many times you’ve had to comfort his partners the morning after, wiping away their tears when they realize that "just one night" really means just that. They always seem to hope for more, for something lasting, and it’s always you who ends up playing the sympathetic neighbor, nodding along as they pour out their hearts. Of course, it's your fault too. You should learn how to mind your own business instead of feeling sorry for crying women. And men.

And then there’s his rut. The first time you realized what was going on, you nearly dropped your coffee cup. The howls, the desperate growls, and the unmistakable... fervor of it all carried straight through the walls. After those nights, it’s impossible to even think about making eye contact with him. Weeks go by before you feel like you can look at him without your mind immediately replaying all the sounds you heard. And he, of course, acts like nothing happened.

To your left lives a succubus, and teasing you seems to be her favorite pastime. She’s always around when you come or go, somehow knowing exactly when to time her appearances. She leans casually against her doorframe, dressed in barely-there lingerie or a robe that hangs loose enough to leave little to the imagination, her lips curling into a knowing smile as she catches your eye. It’s impossible not to feel your cheeks heat up under her gaze, especially when she purrs a playful remark. Her eyes linger just a moment too long. And those paper-thin walls? They do nothing to block the sultry sounds she makes late into the night, sounds you’re sure are meant just for you.

You tell yourself you are holding your ground, that you won’t give in, but every sly comment she throws your way and every time she catches you with a flustered look makes you worry that it’s only a matter of time before you find yourself at her door, falling right into her trap.

Across the hall lives an elderly minotaur who, bless her heart, has made it her personal mission to match you up with one of her grandkids. No matter how busy you are, she has a sixth sense for catching you at the worst possible times. If you are running late for an appointment, she is suddenly in the hallway, eager to chat about her "really successful and recently divorced" grandson. Or maybe you’re lugging bags of groceries, arms aching under their weight, and just as you are almost to your door, she appears, excited to tell you that another one of her grandsons, who just came back from abroad, is finally ready to settle down. You try to smile and listen, nodding along as she goes on about their good jobs, kind hearts, and how they need someone like you in their lives. And of course, you don’t have the heart to cut her off, even when you’re in a rush or your arms feel like they might fall off from holding the bags. So, more often than not, you find yourself standing there, smiling politely and listening for far longer than you’d planned, as she talks on and on about her grandkids’ achievements while her eyes twinkle with hope.

“Y/N!” The goblin’s voice rings out just as you step into the elevator. Your name rolling off his tongue is already dripping with complaints. "I'm sorry!" You almost shout when you catch a glimpse of his frown while frantically jabbing the button for your floor. "Y/N!" As the elevator finally slips shut, cutting off his grumbling, the tension drains from your shoulders, but your relief is short-lived when you hear the familiar ding and the doors open. "Hey," the wolf-shifter greets you casually before taking your place in the metal box. You manage a stiff nod and a quiet "hey" while drifting your gaze to the floor, unable to hold his gaze for more than a second. When he disappears behind the thick doors, you let out a sigh and shift the bags in your arms as you fumble for your keys. Just as you manage to find them, the door in front of you swings open, and you force a smile as the elderly minotaur across the hall greets you warmly. “Hello, dear!” she beams. “Would you like to come in? My grandson, you know, the one I told you about, is visiting, and I thought you two should finally meet!” Your mouth opens, and your brain scrambles for a polite excuse, but before you can get a word out, her grandson appears behind her, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Maybe next time, Nan,” he says with a smile, steering her back into the apartment. You share a moment of mutual understanding before the door clicks shut. Just as you breathe a sigh of relief, again, another door swings open, again, and you freeze, momentarily forgetting how to breathe. The succubus leans against her door, draped in dark purple lingerie that hugs her curves like a second skin. The bralette barely manages to contain her generous figure, and her sultry smile only deepens as she takes in your flustered expression. “Hello, Y/N,” she purrs. Your cheeks flare up, and you barely stammer out a weak “Not today!” as you nearly stumble into your apartment. You can hear her laughter echoing behind you, but your attention is quickly snatched by the buzzing of your phone. Your bags hit the floor with a heavy thud, and you cringe, fully aware the goblin will have a field day with this. You glance at your screen, catching a new message from your friend upstairs: The kids are with their dad. Fancy a coffee? How about you come down? you quickly reply, no way willing to risk leaving your apartment again today. Sure, comes the reply almost instantly. Did you hear about the party that harpy threw on the fourth floor? She drives me mad! No, you think, but leave the message unanswered. Of course, you didn’t hear about the party. How could you, with the orc babies wailing through most of the night?

[hatsbuckets]

TF 141 x Reader - Shower Hide Out

Short Version: You're a member of 141. Mission's over. The boys come hide while you're taking a shower. (Hide? Hide from what?)

WC: ~1300

Pairings: (implied) TF141 x (afab) reader | teensy weensy Ghost x Soap

Warnings: none? (nudity ig, but nobody does or sees anything,) extremely brief mention of drowning. (lmk if I need to add)

A/N: my first little cod fic I'm posting! teehee. Just something cute and domestic and simple that I thought of while showering. LMAO I did this instead of writing my thesis today so plz enjoy. More like this maybe to come?

It was late and a shower was long overdue.

You were grateful to finally be at a place where you could shower. It'd been days out on a mission and the sight of the little house was like heaven on Earth. Laswell had gotten it together, and you all met her there with little ceremony, but plenty of thanks. You each made sure each of you were good and not dying before sitting in with Kate.

You always got a little protective over the boys after the high stress, near-death-experiences you go through together. And they were the same with you, and each other, in their own little ways. Sometimes you weren't sure why, but you rolled with it. Soap always made a point to talk with you, helping you and himself destress. Ghost made sure you weren’t hurt, you would do the same, then he’d say something about getting better. You and Gaz liked to eat together, making sure you were both fed. Price was quiet, bringing you tea or coffee in the later hours, but never quiet enough to avoid a bit of banter. Sometimes it was a hearty combination of them all at the same time, and sometimes it was just one or two. Whatever it was, you were grateful. 

This current mission had resulted in you and Johnny both nearly drowning to death, but you were okay, and so was he. Naturally, it left all parties a little on edge. Soap didn’t shut up the whole drive to safety, keeping spirits light while Ghost and Gaz tried to keep the two of you from freezing to death. Laswell was worried too. She insisted, in her stoic way, on getting you all safe and rested for a bit before moving forward.

This wasn't the first time you'd all holed up in a small house, and it wouldn't be the last, but it was definitely one of the quieter nights of the five of you together. Laswell and Price wasted little time before discussing and debriefing. The rest of you were hardly as interested, tired mostly, but pulled in all the same.

Finally, they let you head up to the shower first, even though Johnny was shaking from the chill of still being in damp clothes.

"Go on, lass," he had chattered. "I'll b-be just fine."

Ghost had to force another towel around him before you were satisfied.

Upstairs, you twisted the shower on, letting the heat steam as you undressed. You peeled away a still damp uniform and even damper socks. Ew.

You'd need a full body scrub down to feel better.

You stepped in, pulling the curtain closed and letting the hot water soak through your hair and warm you to the bone. It hurt a little at your toes, the way warm water does as blood rushes around you again. You started with shampoo, lathering your hair intentionally, but not in a hurry.

As you rinsed you swore you heard the door creak. Then a relaxed sigh confirmed your suspicion.

"Soap?" You guessed quietly.

The Scot hummed in response.

You didn't mind. It wouldn't be the first time he'd stood by while you showered. Though normally it was because neither of you wanted whatever intriguing discussion you were having to be interrupted. Another of those weird little, post-mission comforts. This was just him, sitting quietly, enjoying the warmth of the steamed washroom.

You heard him kick his boots off as you put conditioner in your hair. Then another sound of the door hinges. At first you thought he'd left-weirdo, just drop your boots and leave- but then you realized from a mumbling grunt that he had not left.

You heard the shuffling of movement and the quietest unidentifiable remark from Soap, and then just the sound of the water again.

"Soap?" You asked, confirming if the man was still there.

He hummed again. "Still 'ere. Got some company too."

If you had to guess, it was probably Ghost. You could imagine him plopped down on the floor at Soap's feet, leaning against the man's legs. Again, it didn't bother you as you rinsed the product from your hair. Ghost had seen you roughed up, helped patch you up enough that his presence couldn't bother you. You'd done a bit of the same for him. Those weird little comforts.

Knowing they were on the other side of the dark curtain, dirty and wet and tired, but alive, settled a bit of the hammer of worry in your chest. It warmed you from the inside as much as the water on the outside.

The door hinges creaked again, announcing another arrival. You were grinning now.

"Captain scare ya off, Gaz?" Ghost teased.

There was a moment where he didn't respond. "This is just the warmest room in the house, with how much water she's using."

You laughed lightly as you lathered up. Whatever he was in here for you also didn't mind. You trusted Kyle with your life, and with the times he's seen you drunk after celebratory bar nights, you couldn't chase him off now. Those little comforts.

Before you could rinse off, the door creaked a fourth time. You thought maybe one of them had left. Maybe Kyle. But instead, you heard an unmistakable grumble.

"You moppets. Let the girl shower in peace." Price's voice was low but laced with a tease.

"And wot brings you 'ere, Captain?" Soap poked right back.

You rinsed yourself, a laugh escaping you as you thought about the four grown men occupying the small space. Little comforts. 

"What's so funny?" Ghost's voice was light, or at least as light as it could be when he wasn't too stressed.

"Are you all hiding from Kate?" You teased.

When your question was met with silence, you had your answer. Your laugh burst from you as you turned the water off. It subsided only as the chill of the air entered the isolated space as you extended your hand through the small gap between curtain and wall. There was a moment of shuffling and scrambling, then a towel landed in your hand.

"You'd be hidin' too if you were down there listening to her plans, that woman never rests," Soap's voice grumbled. It made you laugh again as you wrapped the towel around your body. You finally pulled open the curtain to the scene before you.

Like you'd guessed, Soap was seated on the toilet, boots off in the pile next to your own, his clothes still damp. Ghost was seated on the floor in front of him, still fully geared. Kyle had at least taken off his equipment in a different room, sitting on the floor against the sink counter. And Price, also still fully dressed, was leaning just inside the doorway, arms crossed over his chest.

While the other men glanced away in their respectful little ways, Soap watched as you stepped out, earning a thump on the leg from Ghost.

"What?" Soap cried. "She's'not naked!"

You laughed, stepping over Ghost and Gaz's legs as you made your way to the door. You rested your free hand on Price's shoulder and his eyes met yours.

"Surely Kate's new ideas aren't that bad," you teased.

The man shrugged, a smile crinkling his eyes. "You can go find out."

You huffed a tiny laugh. You could feel all their eyes on you now, so you made a point to linger just a moment longer. "One of you start showering; you all smell."

You headed for your own room as Soap's gripes and protests hit your ears. You understood something along the lines of “wouldn’t if you’d not taken all the water.” You smiled to yourself. They were protective, always in that weird little way of theirs after the high stress, near-death-experiences you all go through together. Shared little weird-not weird, just your own-comforts to make sure you were all alive and well. And you wouldn't have it any other way.

Thanks for reading.

[ubeb0nes]

Sevika x Fem!Bar Owner!Reader - The One Who Pours the Drinks

Pt. 3 (can be read as standalone)

༇ ༇ ༇

Summary: After their (very homosexually-charged) estrangement a few weeks ago, Angel tries to bury the sour Sevika left in her heart. Sevika does the same, dismissing any meaning to be found in how she still makes sure to walk by the Five-Copper Furnace at least twice a week.

But one thing remains true: No one threatens the one who pours the drinks.

a/n: i'm a dirty filthy liar, i finished pt. 3 for bar owner reader before i even started my warmup for writing sevika's character LMFAO. will still do that prompt at some point!!

w/c: like 4.3k ish

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The world doesn’t stop spinning because of one person.

It’s a sentiment you were forced to be fond of in your life before the one you had now. People had always come and gone, it was the nature of the crime life, and it was certainly the nature of the Zaun one too. To stop and mourn for too long was to die.

And you had a business to run.

You did your best to count your lucky stars every night, reminding yourself as you wiped down the bar that there were other people. Plenty of women with smokey laughs and eyes like the moon. You were a good-looking bastard, you’d find the next one. You had all the time in the world now, away from the strife that used to follow you like a shadow.

Pay no mind to how you always swiped harder at the bar as you had these thoughts, slamming tumblers and plates into their places beneath the bar with extra vigor. Nor to how Zaun was about as different from Bilgewater as steel to iron.

Sevika’s men and their presence started to dwindle with hers, albeit more slowly; many of them almost seemed hesitant, apologetic. You caught one of them on your way into the bar to open it for the evening.

“I’m real sorry, Angel,” he’d said.

“I’m sure she’s got other work for you,” you said, waving him off as if it was- and indeed, it was- nothing personal. You only had problems with one ex-frequent of your bar. You weren’t even all that inclined to include the heavy muscle she brought in with her on the last visit.

“Always other work where the boss is concerned,” he affirmed, “But… this has been one of the better gigs.” You stayed static outside your bar for a moment as he walked away, your key still stuck in the lock.

It’s not like you needed protection in the first place, you were more than capable. Not that Sevika knew that. You grumbled to yourself as you organized the prep area behind the bar; you hadn’t had to give much mind to security the past several months, Sevika handled the matter in its entirety without you so much as having to ask.

It’s a sentiment you were forced to be fond of in your life before the one you had now. People had always come and gone, it was the nature of the crime life, and it was certainly the nature of the Zaun one too. To stop and mourn for too long was to die.

You’d have to add that back into your list of tasks. Along with putting all the stools up at closing time. And what were you supposed to do with all these damn cigarillos you had behind the counter? You didn’t smoke nearly as much as she did.

You smacked a hand that wasn’t yours away from the aforementioned stash, smirking when you heard a small, “Ow, jerk!”

“You’re not old enough to smoke.”

“It’s Zaun, babies would smoke if they could,” the boy, a little tail of yours named Kix, retorted, pouting as he hopped up on the counter. You sighed. “I finished that book you gave me.”

“Yeah? How was it?”

“Pretty good! And, I think, as a reward for finishing it, I should-”

“Yeah, I’m gonna stop you right there,” you said, stepping away to move the lemons you just sliced into a container. Your tail, of course, followed.

“Fine, can I at least finally get a knife?”

“When you can wield one of those batons without smacking yourself in the face, yeah. ‘Til then, hell no.”

“That’s a bad word!”

“Like you care!” You could only breathe out a laugh. The children of Zaun were sharp, often leaving you deeply amused and incredulous.

“Ugh,” he said dramatically, flailing against the bar. You shot one of your patrons an apologetic look at the antics of Stray Wet Cat #1. “But you have so many, Angel!” He exclaimed, “How’d you get those anyway? Did you kill somebody?”

I killed a lot of people, you wanted to say, but something told you that wouldn’t have been appropriate. “I told you before, Kix,” you started, voice gentle like a teacher’s, “Zaun isn’t the only place in the world where you need to defend yourself. The world is way bigger.”

“Doesn’t feel like it,” he muttered to himself, pushing away from the bar and trudging back to the lounge area connected to the kitchen, where a few of the other kids spent their time. You frowned as you watched him walk away, then looked down at the paring knife in your right hand.

For the children of Zaun, life depended on which end of the knife you found yourself on, and oftentimes nothing more. How much were you really doing for them, giving them sandwiches to eat and rudimentary lessons on how to hold a blade? They all had to leave the bar at the end of each day, stepping back into the streets waiting to swallow them whole on their treks back home.

“Don’t be so hard on ya’self, Ang’,” the patron you’d shared a look with earlier interjected. You looked up at him in a daze, quickly putting on a thoughtful smile.

“I’m okay,” you replied simply.

“And so are those kids, thanks to you,” he said, “A little bit goes a long way in Zaun. These kids can stretch an inch of kindness, always have been able to.”

You saw eyes like slate in your mind as the gentleman went back to nursing his drink, and your smile faltered.

Weren’t these the kids Sevika claimed to be doing her righteous work for? What could she tell them as she chipped away at their safe haven, showing up bi-weekly just to take away a little more? You growled lowly as you swiped a cigarillo from beneath the counter, abiding the thought to linger in your mind- as if you could condition yourself to hate her faster.

You were busy staring down the end of the cigarillo as you lit it, almost too busy to notice how a wave of quiet had washed over the Five-Copper Furnace. Your eyes flicked to the door just in time, though.

Your busy mind halted all thoughts more trivial than the now, a low voice reminding you of the shotgun beneath your bar, the knives in your sleeves, and the preeminent experience in violence that scarred your skin. Four men wearing all manners of weapons, and gleaming belt buckles of meridian silver, stalked into your bar.

𒀭 𒀭 𒀭

Sevika was, for whatever reason, a woman well-versed in the department of odd and unwanted talents. Being weirdly good with kids was at the forefront.

“Oh! Captain-General Metal Arm Lady!” Well, she knew which kid that was*.*

“Why is my name so long?” She muttered to herself as she stopped anyway, and turned on her heel to face him. The boy, one of Angel’s little henchmen named Kix, skidded to a stop in front of her. “What is it, kid?” She asked gruffly.

“Where’ve you been? Are you and Angel having a lover’s quarrel?”

Isn’t he like twelve?? Sevika picked her jaw up from the ground as quickly as it’d fallen. “Who the hell even taught you what that is?” She asked incredulously.

“That’s a bad word. And I read it in a book. Are you coming to the Five-Copper?”

“No, I’m busy,” Sevika said flatly. Her brow furrowed at the way his face fell. Not like a child who’d been told no, but a boy who had something to fear. “…Why?”

“Well, uh… m-maybe you could just stop by?” He rocked back on his heels, looking over his shoulder at the bar in question. He’d caught Sevika so close to the place, he just needed to get her through the door… “I think Angel might… u-um…”

Sevika sighed. “Before tomorrow, Kix.”

“I think Angel might need you.”

Sevika scoffed, turning with a small flare of her cloak (drama queen), “She’s a big girl, she can handle herself just fine, kid. I gotta go.” A small, surprised grunt rose out of her when she felt a tug on her metal arm. She looked down at the boy, shooting him a glare that lacked even an inch of fire.

“Please, Miss Sevika! A bunch of guys just walked in and I don’t know them, a-and they have really ugly, scary faces, and-”

“Okay! Okay. C’mon, let’s go,” Sevika rattled her arm out of Kix’s grasp, sweeping it back beneath her cloak. The boy let out a small cheer as her broad form turned in the direction of the Five-Copper Furnace, and he fell into step under the cover of her shadow. “And don’t call me ‘Miss Sevika’. Just Sevika is alright,” she made a small, grossed-out sound.

“Okay! Does that mean we’re friends?”

“No,” she replied, giving his head a small nudge as they walked.

“Ack! Bully!”

The smile that began to flicker across her features promptly melted back into her perpetual frown as she watched almost half a dozen patrons leave the Five-Copper in succession. “How many of them were there, kid?” She asked in a low voice.

“Uh, I think four?”

Sevika hummed, stopping beside the entrance. She pulled Kix aside by the collar with her, as even more patrons filed out. “Are your friends in there?” She asked. The boy nodded. “Okay. Go get ‘em through the back. And go home.”

“But-!”

“Uh-uh. She’s already pissed at me enough, can’t imagine how mad she’d be if you brats got hurt once this goes down.”

“So…” Sevika felt a few grey hairs grow in at the same time Kix’s frown faded into a grin, “…it is a lover’s quarrel?”

“Kix!”

“Okay, bye Sevika!” He hopped up and down as if to charge himself up before sprinting off. Sevika watched as he nearly tripped over himself when he quickly halted again. “Uh… you won’t let them hurt Angel, right?”

“She’ll be fine,” Sevika said. She sighed as his feet stayed planted in the ground. Her voice was softer when she spoke again, “You have my word, kid. Angel will be okay.” He gave her a final grin, before darting off. Sevika cracked her neck as she zeroed back on the entrance to Angel’s bar. “Guess collections is early this month,” she muttered wryly, before pushing the door open.

𒀭 𒀭 𒀭

“These people don’t even know, do they?”

You breathed out tendrils of smoke from your nose, lowering your voice in line with the bounty hunter’s. His friends had stayed mute, opting to survey your patrons and the bar itself like three angry lighthouses.

You smiled slightly at those who hadn’t left yet, whose postures were coiled tightly like metal springs.

“I can’t imagine it’d change a thing,” you replied. You picked up the wanted poster (old fashioned, you were aware) he’d thrown on the counter, giving it another flippant once-over. Your likeness had been- rather skillfully- illustrated in the center, with meaningless words like ‘Wanted’ and ‘approach with care’ swimming around it.

God, I’m good-looking, you thought with a smile and a nod.

“And yet you have ‘em call you a different name. Bury your old one with the rest of your money, huh?”

“Oh, that isn’t buried. Not one bit,” Your face spread into a grin, wolfish teeth crushing the filter of the cigarillo. You saw the hunger that flickered in his eyes, a greed so romantically entwined with the people of Bilgewater that men died for it. Like this one would.

“Well, good to know! Between that and the hundred Golden Krakens on your head, you’ll make a fine cashout,” the rancid man said, “Angel.”

Your eyes widened slowly, mockingly. “A hundred Golden Krakens?” You echoed, “…Can I turn myself in?” Your eyes flicked casually to the door as you heard it open once again.

“Very funny. Now…”

Whatever the hunter had to say ceased to matter as you watched her walk in. Wide shoulders curved inwards, entering with the same intent your remaining customers all had. Sevika met your eyes immediately.

On one hand, not only was your safety further secured, but a return in a casket to your old city was all but out of the question now. Sevika wouldn’t let you die, at the very least, you knew that much.

On the other hand… Sevika was in your bar. Your eyes narrowed at her, and you gave her a look that practically screamed ‘piss off’ in spite of your other senses relaxing. She shook her head at you, matching your rising agitation with an annoyed curl of her lip.

Kix, she mouthed. Oh, thanks, kid. What a wingman.

You would’ve found it silly the way she stuck to the walls as she moved through the bar. Trying to get closer to you, you realized. A hand slamming down on the table and another grabbing your collar brought your attention back to more pressing matters.

Sevika felt her heart jump higher in her chest, and she resisted the urge to rush right to you and pluck that man’s head from the rest of him. A firm hand on her shoulder was all that prevented her, and she leveled her gaze with the fool who’d stepped in her line of view.

“We called dibs on this job, you’re too late,” the hunter said. Sevika furrowed her brows in brief confusion, but the pieces came together quickly in a mind as sharp as hers.

Bounty hunters? For you?

He gave her shoulder a shove, and Sevika let herself be moved. Some distance to deploy her left arm’s blade, good. “Go on,” he growled.

A scream from the bar counter swiveled all heads in that direction.

Sevika’s eyes widened as your name started to rise in her throat, until she saw the main perpetrator sink like a stone in water… his hand left behind in your grasp. You wiped the knife on your apron, throwing your still-burning cigarillo at him as he writhed on the floor.

Sevika threw her cloak to the ground before her sensibilities turned to steel.

𒀭 𒀭 𒀭

You would’ve made a fine alchemist, if you hadn’t chosen the more profitable industry of alcoholism instead.

You also would’ve been far less likely to have ever encountered Sevika and the all-consuming rage she inspired in you if you’d started an Apothecary. What with her- very much expected- aversion to seeking out any medical assistance of any sort.

“Ow.”

“Stay still.”

“Ow.” Sevika hissed when you pressed the tonic-doused cloth to her wound with the exact same vigor as before, thrashing away from you. You sat up straight, leveling her with a look that seethed with your indignance.

“You’re acting like a wuss.”

“And you’re acting like a child who didn’t get her way,” she snapped. Your eye twitched, and so you closed them to take a moment to gather yourself.

You missed the way Sevika’s gaze fell slowly to your lap, eyes creasing as she frowned at your battered hands. You hadn’t had time to pull your gun from beneath the bar before shit went down, and so you’d resorted to hacking with hand and blade. Sevika had been at your back like a magnet, sticking to you and letting the hunters come to her. You’d held your own valiantly.

She only serviced you a lukewarm glare as you moved back to her, this time gently easing the cloth onto her wounded cheek. You held her in place by the other side of her face. “You can take a punch but not a wound disinfectant,” you quipped.

“I took more than just a punch recently, princess.” Sevika side-eyed you when your touch faltered, letting out a shallow huff from her nose.

“Unbelievable…” you muttered.

“Who the hell were those guys? What could they possibly want with you?” Sevika asked. You jutted your lip at her in annoyance when her movements shifted the cloth.

She looked down to ponder the fight from a few hours ago (the lower floor was still an absolute wreck, but that was a problem for you to deal with tomorrow). Silver teeth; and weaponry not at all reminiscient of anything you’d find in Zaun, or Piltover. They had moved with an erratic tick to their attacks, not completely unlike the Shimmer-dependent henchmen Silco kept; although their addiction ran strictly red.

“They weren’t Zaunites,” she mused aloud.

“…No. They weren’t. They were from Bilgewater.”

You freed your other hand to reach for your wanted poster you’d nabbed before heading upstairs, and handed it to Sevika. There was a hanging silence between you as she read the same words over and over again.

“They got your likeness wrong,” she said. You pursed your lips, waiting. “Your head is bigger than that.”

“Shut up.”

Sevika chuckled; or at least gave a limp attempt at it. Her hand holding the poster fell with a soft crunch as she sighed. You let your own hands rest in your lap as she closed her eyes, and leaned her head over the back of your couch.

She had such a pretty neck. The lines of that strange scar were like wisps of blue smoke on her skin. You wanted to reach out to touch them, to thank her sweetly for defending you even as you spat fire on her wounds. You wanted to kiss all the smooth and rough patches you could see, lull her into a soft sleep-

“This is gonna get back to Silco in a couple of days tops.”

You scoffed. “What, is he gonna raise my rent? Doesn’t he have a revolution to claim to run?”

Deep down, you were impressed with what Sevika let you get away with saying to her. Inadvertently discounting her life’s work was no small thing, and you’d seen her put others on the ground for less. It was even more surprising when she gave a real answer to your poor-faithed question.

“You should’ve kept your head low. And let me deal with it. Not- cut a guy’s hand off.” She shook her head, rubbing her forehead. You opened your mouth to refute your lost honor, but she beat you to it, “You’re too… competent. He’ll wanna bring you in now. And you’re no good to the Undercity if he pockets you.”

You’re about to ask her why the hell does she work for him then, but another piece clicks into place before the words surface. Sevika watches the realization cross your face. “So that’s why you…”

“Trust me,” Sevika took hold of your wrist as she raised her head to stare scrutinizingly at your wall, and guided you to press the cloth back to her face. “The collections I take from you are cheaper than really being under his heel. You should see what he takes from that Sheriff up in Piltover.” She breathed out a humorless laugh. Your eyes widened, as the scope of Silco’s reach did too. **

You were a fool. Had going straight truly dulled your cunning mind? (Or was it just the handsome woman sitting in your living room…)

“That’s the discounted price too, by the way,” she muttered. You were pulled from your thoughts with a soft laugh.

“I knew you were fond of me.”

“I like what you do for the kids.”

“It’s nothing,” you said softly, surveying the injury on her face and deeming it sufficiently stabilized to move onto the next. You were glad, at least, that the brunt of the pain had been inflicted on you two rather than your good-willed customers.

Sevika’s brow furrowed as she watched you go through the motions of prepping her next injury. Truthfully, she didn’t know why she let you drag her upstairs in the first place; the way you coupled your attentive- if not presumptuous- touch with barbed jabs at her gall for walking into your bar should’ve pissed her off. But she let you move her like you were a breeze.

Your movements were practiced, like you’d spent a whole lifetime sweeping up the broken pieces of stupid, pointless fights. Sevika looked down at the wanted poster again. “…How much is 100 Golden Krakens?” She asked.

You hummed as you tried to think of the best comparison in Zaun’s economy, “Probably eightteen months’ worth of what I make running the bar.”

“Janna-”

You laughed heartily as you carefully peeled the wax paper from a bandage. Subconsciously, you rubbed over the wound once it was patched to soothe the ache, not noticing how Sevika’s gaze immediately went to your nimble hand. “Why, you thinkin’ about turning me in?” You teased.

“Funny,” she deadpanned, “Would be one less pain in the ass for me, though.” She gave you a pointed onceover. Her feigned exasperation melted into a grin when you slapped her leg (albeit very weakly).

“You just said you like me!”

“That isn’t what I said,” she said, still feigning dismissal so smugly. You hated how well she wore a petty smirk, or how pretty her teeth were when she gleaned a real smile.

(You wanted to kiss that stupid look right off her face.)

Instead, all you did was roll your eyes, collapsing on the opposite end of the couch. In Sevika’s mind, she just won that encounter.

“You mind if I smoke?”

You waved your hand, looking out the window of your kitchen, “Worse has happened in my house today.” She didn’t pull your gaze back to her until you heard her shifting around for a longer amount of time than it should’ve taken for someone to find a cig and lighter. “Lose your lighter?” You mocked, taking in the cigarillo hanging out of her mouth as she patted down her pockets with mild frustration on her face.

“One of the bastards must have knocked it out of my pack,” she said with an agitated sigh. Her eyes perked up at the metal clink of… your lighter. You laid your head back against the arm of the couch, resting the open lighter slightly above your abdomen. Sevika’s breath caught as she realized how close she’d have to get to you- how close you’d make her get to you- to get a light.

Her eyes narrowed into a glare as they slid up to meet your gaze. She wasn’t about to make a coward of herself now, though. She held your expectant stare as she leaned down between your legs, one of her hands boldly bracing on your shin with a slight squeeze. She cupped her hand protectively around yours as she lit the end of her cigarillo. The way your eyes widened and your chest stopped rising with breath wasn’t lost on her.

I take it back, Kix, she thought, I don’t think she’s all that pissed.

She turned her head to the side as she blew smoke from her mouth. “Tell me something,” she said, her voice nearly a purr. You had to fight with your own goddamn eyes to tear away from the small puffs of smoke that left her mouth as she spoke. You cocked a brow. “Were you a pirate or something?” She asked. Her eyes widened slightly when you met her with silence. “Oh, sweet hell…”

“Don’t laugh!”

She laughed. You loved that she did.

“That was… a long time ago,” you waved your hand like you could bat the memories away, but they’d never felt more with you than today. You had nearly forgotten how easy it was to snatch someone’s life away. You’d made a fortune on it once, and yet… the muscle of ruthlessness had grown weak and disoriented with lack of exercise. You frowned to yourself, shaking your head. “I did a lot of things I’m not proud of.”

Sevika shrugged, taking another drag. “We don’t choose where life puts us,” she replied. You shouldn’t have been surprised by such a… thoughtful sentence leaving her mouth. But your brows still raised slightly as you looked at her. “I’m not gonna be the one to judge you around here.”

You frowned, guilt jabbing in your gut. “But I did you.”

“Maybe you weren’t wrong for it,” she retorted softly. Your eyes widened. She inhaled softly before continuing, swiveling her gaze to meet yours again. “I used to try an’ push Silco to do more for the kids. Get books smuggled in in between all the Shimmer requisitions,” she scoffed, shaking her head. Your heart squeezed as you watched her carefully begin to pull the curtains around her true self back- for you. “Give people resources, just… something. I didn’t realize I let four years go by ‘til I saw you doing all that for the kids the moment you touched down here.”

You sighed, swinging your legs over the edge of the couch to rub your face with both hands. “You really think I won’t be able to help them at all once Silco comes knocking?” You asked, biting your lip as you felt like what was the only answer was slowly enclosing around you.

Immediately though, Sevika shook her head. Your mouth opened slightly in confusion as she stood up from your couch. “No. I’m gonna handle this,” the determination in her step would have been beyond adorable if it weren’t for your utter bemusement. “I… owe you,” she said slowly. You wanted to laugh at how her fierce bravado seemed to come to a skidding stop the moment she had to make an admission on her pride.

“Oh yeah?” You teased.

She rolled her eyes as she pulled her cloak back on over her shoulders, concealing that absolute unit of a figure from your prying eyes. You smiled at how her broad shoulders were still very apparent, and the beginnings of her v-line peeked out with that damn cropped vest- get it together, Angel. “He’s gonna know I was here anyway, might as well make something out of it,” she explained (right, you bought that…), pausing again to scrutinize you, “You’re all good?”

Trigonometric equations started floating around in your head as you tried to decipher what she could possibly mean with that question, until her arched brow turned judgemental at how long you were taking to answer.

Oh. She was just asking about your… general wellbeing. Aw!

“O-oh, yeah, I’m all good,” you said. Truthfully too, you were more used to fighting the Bilgewater types than her, and had come out of the confrontation mostly unscathed. Your jaw stuttered as if to say more when she hummed and took a swift step forward, tilting your head up with her index and thumb.

“You’re not lying?” She asked lowly, turning your head gently from side to side.

“E-even if I was, it’s none of your business,” you snapped defensively. Dumbass. Did you have any idea how red your face was?

With an amused exhale from her nose, Sevika gently let go of your chin, fleetingly brushing her crooked index over your cheek. “Whatever you say, princess,” she said. She didn’t even give you a chance to shoot back something clever (as if you had something prepared) before she was sweeping towards the door, fixing her cigarillo in the corner of her mouth. “Your bar’s a mess,” she quipped over her shoulder, just to be a dick.

“Fuck you!” You called after her, the smile on your face crystal-clear in your tone. The last thing you saw was her pretty side-profile as she half-glanced at you with smug amusement lining her face, before she closed the door behind her.

You slumped back on the couch, letting out a heavy sigh. “That goddamn woman…” you muttered, “Fuck.”

[clockwayswrites]

A bird what now? part 9

birdritch masterpost

"It will make him easy to keep an eye on,” Tim said.

Bruce sighed but gave a little nod. That was true. Even if this was nothing nefarious, they would have to keep an eye on Danny just to make sure that it wasn’t a reoccurring event. After all, with those running around like Clay Face, Man Bat, and Killer Croc there are plenty of people who had gotten turned into creatures and inhuman beings through: both their own fault and not. Bruce certainly hoped whatever was going on wasn’t the result of something being worked on at WE, but he would certainly have to meet with Lucius soon and double check that. It could always be something that Danny was working on in his own time or could have nothing to do with the company at all.

Gotham wasn’t exactly the safest place as far as chemicals in the water and air went. Though Bruce had been doing what he could through his own funds, initiatives at WE, and through his connections with the mayor. At least this mayor seemed like a good one (or as good as Gotham could hope for at the moment).

Progress could be slow, which was sometimes hard to accept.

“Put the bag on the table, Red Robin,” Bruce said with a little bit of a sigh in his words. Enter

“But B come on—” Tim started with a little furrow of his brow.

Bruce crouched down a little to meet Tim’s eyes. “I understand your inclination, Red Robin, you know I do. But we have enough information to look into this without invading what little privacy he has after waking up in the situation that he just did.”

“Oh,” Tim looked down at the bag and closed the flap over. “I guess I just… hadn’t thought about it like that.”

“I know, chum,” Bruce said. He squeezed Tim’s shoulder gently. “Go put the bag on the table for him and get yourself some coffee.”

“Coffee, coffee sounds amazing,” Tim said, mostly to himself, as he went to follow orders.

Bruce stuck his hands in the sweat pants he was wearing and trailed after Tim. He’d let his kids who needed the coffee go first, but he could really use some himself to deal with this morning. He stopped by Jason where the other was leaning against the meeting table and rubbing at the edges of his domino.

“Who thought Bat paranoia would pay off with us all putting these stupid things back on after showering,” Jason grumbled.

Bruce gave a soft ‘hm’.

“You got that good cream in stock? Cause this shit is going to itch wearing these all night.”

Bruce gave a little nod. “I’ll make sure you have a tub to take with you. Thank you for staying last night to watch over the family.”

“…yeah, sure old man.”

With a brief clasp to Jason’s shoulder, Bruce stepped up for his turn to get some coffee. Contrary to the easy jokes, Bruce didn’t enjoy his coffee dark and brooding like his soul and added a decent amount of cream to his cup.

“I don’t suppose that there’s enough in the pot for me?”

To his credit, Danny Fenton didn’t flinch as multiple white lensed gazes turned towards him. There was some water dripping off his hair, landing at his bare feet next to the too long sweatpants legs. Nightwing’s pants, Bruce’s mind supplied, just based on Fenton’s build. Though oddly the sweatshirt was definitely Bruce’s and absolutely swallowed Fenton.

Fenton reached up up and pulled the collar of the sweatshirt up over his freckled and scarred shoulder.

Scarred?

“Certainly,” Bruce said and reached for a mug. “Cream? Sugar?”

“A little of both, thank you,” Fenton said. He looked to his side as Cass came up to him and let her herd him to the table with a soft huff.

The rest of the Bats made their way there. Bruce set the mug down in front of Fenton and took the open seat to his left.

“What do you remember from last night.

Fenton took a long sip of his coffee before he spoke. “I left work about eight twenty.”

“That’s pretty late,” Tim interjected.

Fenton shrug and a gave half smile. “I have a habit of losing time, much to the annoyance of my boss. He’s who sent me home. I stopped and grabbed some food before I headed through Robinson park towards the station on the other side. Normally there’s no issue, but suddenly the vines were active and there was some sort of commotion off to my left.”

Bruce glanced towards Dick who gave a slight incline of his head. The commotion must have been them.

“My phone was dead— s’why I didn’t get my alarm to leave work, so I couldn’t check out if it was anything major,” Fenton continued. “I tried to back up and get out of the park but I was pretty surrounded. I wouldn’t have been too worried, but there was this flower, big and bold red. It popped and that’s the last clear thing I remember. After that it’s just… panic? I remember the flower was bad, my lungs felt like they were burning. I had to protect someone? Someones? And then there was a level of comfort. Then I woke up here.” Fenton’s hands hand tightened around his mug as he talked until he had a white knuckled clutch on it. “I’m hoping you all can fill in a few pieces.”

“Some,” Dick said. He leaned forward, elbows resting on the table. “Red Hood, Red Robin, and myself, Nightwing, were dealing with some criminals who were trying to bury a body in the park.”

“Really?” Fenton said incredulously. “Why did they think Posion Ivy would be okay with anyone digging in her park? Like sure, technically fertilizer, but really?”

“Right?” Dick agreed with a smile. “She was pretty unhappy. I’m assuming that’s what made the vines agitated. Sorry about that.”

Fenton gave a little shrug. “Not like you all were trying to bury a body. At least not this time?”

Jason barked out a laugh at that that Bruce’s look didn’t quell at all. He just flicked Bruce off.

“Nope,” Dick continued, undeterred, “we just stopped then and then were trying to calm Pamela— Ivy down. That’s when you showed up, except you weren’t exactly… you.”

With excellent timing as always, Tim pulled up a still from his camera onto the monitor of the bird entity. Fenton paled to an alarming degree.

“What?” he croaked.

“This bird creature— you— crashed onto the scene,” Dick said as Tim let the video play. “Don’t worry, you were nonviolent. Well, at least not to anything other than Ivy’s plants.”

On screen Fenton’s bird form was wailing on a carnivorous flower as he pulled Nightwing to safety.

“Oh Ancients,” Fenton said and buried his face in his shaking hands.

“Mostly you just collected us. Cuddle pollen causes people to need living warmth and it was obvious that you were dosed as your feathers were covered in it, which then affected all of us also.”

“Most of us. I’m smart enough to wear a fucking mask,” Jason said.

“I always thought that was smart,” Fenton said weakly as he pulled his gaze back up to the screen. “I really didn’t hurt anyone?”

“Only Robin’s pride,” Tim chirped.

Damian growled back.

“Okay. Okay that’s… that’s good. I, um… yeah, that’s new. The bird thing. That’s new,” Fenton said as he watched the video play out until Red Robin’s camera was obscured by feathers.

Bruce reached out to rest his hand across Fenton’s shoulder blades, tapping out a rhythm for him to breathe to.

Fenton sent him a shaky smile.

“Unsure about what you were, but knowing you had been affected by cuddle pollen and were… collecting my children, bringing you back to the cave seemed the best action,” Bruce explained. “As most of us were affected, it was easiest to stay close. It was unexpected to wake up to you being human.”

“Yeah, yeah I bet,” Fenton agreed. His gazed was glued to the screen again, the new now from Black Bat’s camera. “I wouldn’t have expected it either. That’s… yeah. That’s new.”

Bruce caught Cass’s attention and got a subtle assurance back. Fenton didn’t know why he had become a bird either. At least that decreased the chance of the man having been experimenting on himself.

“Do you work with chemicals at work?” Bruce asked. He would of course find this out from Lucius, but Fenton shouldn’t suspect that.

Fenton blinked at him. “What? Oh, no. Basic things, solder and acetone and the such. Nothing that should have any wild effects.” He hesitated then, chewing on his lips as his eyes flicked from Bruce to the screen where he was currently snagging Black Bat with one of the many legs. “But I was exposed to a lot of weird stuff as a kid. My parents had… poor lab safety and I really didn’t know any better. I guess that something in the flowers… reacted really badly? If there was some other triggers or something around in the air. That’s all I can think, but it had to be one hell of an environmental cocktail and not one I want to repeat.”

Bruce could believe Fenton’s aversion with the way he trembled under Bruce’s hand.

-

“You’ll be alright.” Danny wasn’t sure if that was a question or a statement, so he nodded and put on the best smile he could at the moment. “Well, I’m currently not a giant bird entity so I think so.”

They were tucked away in an alley close enough to home that Danny could walk it. The attempt at privacy didn’t make it any less weird to be standing there in borrowed clothing and talking to Batman who sat atop an intimidating looking motorcycle. Danny hoped it was still hellishly early enough to avoid most of the scrutiny of his neighbors.

Batman went still for a moment in a way that had Danny tilting his head before the man reached into his utility belt and handed over a black keyfob of some sort.

“It’s an emergency beacon. Twist it one-eighty and press the button for three seconds and we will have your location. If you’re exposed to something odd or fear you might shift, use it.”

“In case I’m a danger?”

“In case you need help, including if you’re irrational and need a safe space to calm down.”

Danny chewed on his lip for a moment before he held out his hand. He tried to ignore the tremor in it, even if the shaking was blatantly obvious. Batman set the fob in his hand with surprising gentleness.

“Use it if you need it.”

“Okay.” Danny took a step back. “Thanks for the ride back, even if I had to be blindfolded for it.”

“Precautions.”

Danny just shrugged. “You have a family to protect, I get it. Keep them safe.”

Batman gave a little nod and Danny took that as his chance to head out of the alleyway and quickly down the street to his apartment. He needed food and to call Sam.

No, he needed to push up that visit to see Frostbite.

---

AN: Can't believe there's 3 chapters of this silliness now. Didn't expect to get this far, but really needed something with no stress to write after the morning I had. Doing my best to hang in there. Stay delightful, darlings.

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。FAMILY SECRETS — GOJO SATORU.

contents. fem! + mom! reader, reader is referred to as “mommy” and “wife,” girl dad toru <3, family shenanigans in the grocery store that are unfortunately inescapable when your husband is gojo satoru

“ok,” you nod, looking over your grocery list. ��i think that’s everything—”

“mommy, can we please get this,” your daughter looks up at you pleadingly, tugging at your sleeve as she holds a bag of candy—she has satoru’s eyes, wide and blue and so easy to give into. you look at her for a moment before pursing your lips.

“no, satoru. we can’t get this bag of candy.” you turn to the devil himself, glaring at him as he whistles innocently.

“what’re you lookin’ at me for, sweetheart? our little peanut here wants—”

“satoru.”

“fine,” he deflates. you pinch your nose as you sigh.

satoru, in his thirty plus years of life, has surprisingly never had a cavity for how much sugar he consumes. he’s good at taking care of himself, he argues, there’s no chance he’d ever get a cavity. that is, until recently. he visits the dentist and has not one, but two cavities—you think this is a rather alarming sign that he needs to cut back on the sweets, so you take matters into your own hands.

and, well….he’s not handling it very brightly.

“you thought i’d cave just because you tricked our daughter into asking?” you raise a brow, making him huff as he pouts.

“what kind of heartless soul could say no to those eyes?” he asks in disbelief, waving a hand at the small carbon copy of your husband as she blinks up at you, “i mean look at her! she doesn’t deserve the word no.”

“she definitely needs the word no so she doesn’t end up spoiled like you. and i’ve had plenty of practice,” you shoot blandly, “i’ve said no to your eyes all these years haven’t i?”

“even crazier,” he mutters, “i have the most adorable eyes, how could you say no?”

“it’s pretty easy if you ask me,” you shrug.

most people tend to call satoru arrogant—humble is not usually used in the same sentence as gojo satoru. evidently, they’ve never watched him interact with you before—you always find a way to humble him. he’s starting to think he’s the butt of every joke in his own marriage.

“please, baby?” he pouts deeper, “i’ve been good! i floss!”

“no.”

“what if i fold the laundry for a month?” he bats his lashes.

that’s tempting, you have to admit. folding laundry is a very boring job, you’re more than happy to hand it over to satoru for a bag of candy that barely dents your wallet. but then you find your resolve again, crossing your arms as you stare at him unimpressed.

“no, satoru.”

“two months?”

“nope.”

“did you only marry me for my looks?” he asks in disbelief, “because there’s not one ounce of love in that heart of yours.”

“this is for your own good, satoru,” you say firmly, “you had two cavities. how much sugar have you been consuming lately? and don’t think i don’t notice you skipping meals when you’re busy—a chocolate bar does not replace lunch.”

you’re glaring at him, drilling him for his health choices that are not his fault—he’s a busy guy, and he can’t help that a chocolate bar on his way to a mission is all he can squeeze in sometimes. maybe a protein bar would be a better option, but they’re not as tasty, and satoru thinks he deserves to be happy. and then, from the end of the aisle, you hear a few snickers coming from passerby’s. he pouts deeper at the thought of being laughed at as he gets scolded by his wife in the middle of the breakfast aisle.

“what’s the point of living if you’re gonna be miserable?” he groans, “we might as well just start going to bed at nine pm too, while we’re at it. and—”

“that’s actually a lovely idea,” you hum thoughtfully, “you certainly could use the sleep, couldn’t you?”

he glares at you petulantly, sulking as you grab the bag from your daughter’s and put it on the shelf—it’s not the right place, but taking a trip to the candy aisle to place it where it belongs is only venturing deeper into the lion’s den. you’re not letting satoru have more options to choose from.

“you seein’ this, angel?” he turns to your daughter, “you see how mean mommy is? she’s not letting us have candy. make sure you remember that when i ask you who’s your favorite again.”

you roll your eyes, snorting. satoru asks her playfully one night who the favorite parent is—it’s a meaningless question, meant to be a joke and nothing else. you’re sure he expects her to say both—but he gets his feelings severely hurt when she giggles and points to you, staring in disbelief as you grin in victory and kiss her cheeks. you even rub salt on the wound when you mumble she’s your favorite baby too.

he’s starting to really think he’s a victim in his own household.

“but mommy gives me candy,” she tilts her head in confusion.

oh no. she’s not supposed to say that—she promised not to say that. why can’t children ever keep a filter on their words? and why can’t they keep their promises?

almost like in slow motion, both of your eyes widen. satoru pauses. you start to sweat. he turns to face you slowly, in abject disbelief.

“what?” you laugh nervously, “no i don’t! we don’t have any candy at home—”

“she keeps it in her drawer!” your daughter adds, as if she wants to see your downfall.

you love your daughter, you really do—but sometimes you think motherhood is a punishment for whatever sin it is that you’ve committed in your previous life. satoru crosses his arms and taps his foot.

“what happened to we’ll all give up sweets together so you’re not alone, toru,” he mocks your voice, squinting at you accusingly. “so we’re a family of liars now?”

“toru, listen—”

“i trusted you.”

“baby—”

“what happened to our wedding vows? what happened to in sickness and in death? a little cavity is enough to change all that? i’m scared to think what you’d do if i lost an arm.”

“well, you’re not the strongest for nothing,” you point out, chuckling nervously, “so we have nothing to worry about there.”

“i can’t believe you,” he spits, turning away from you with crossed arms and a quiet hmph.

“toru, you can’t expect us all to give up sugar just because you can’t stop making poor health choices,” you argue exasperatedly.

so what if you secretly enjoy a kitkat here and there? you deserve it for dealing with not one, but two children at home every single day—sometimes three if shoko comes over, her lifestyle choices aren’t any better. satoru should let you enjoy a piece of candy or two until he fixes his terrible habits that could very well set a terrible example for your very young and impressionable daughter.

“well, i have adult money of my own,” satoru huffs, “and as an adult, i’ll be purchasing my own candy to hide in my own drawer that i won’t share with you since we’re now apparently a family that doesn’t think sharing is caring.”

“i don’t know if i’m raising one child or two,” you sigh tiredly, rubbing a hand over your face.

satoru grabs the bag of candy off the shelf, promptly placing it in the cart before walking off ahead of you as he pushes it. your daughter grabs your hand and smiles, tugging you along.

“c’mon mommy,” she says brightly, “you said we can go to the park!”

—————— BONUS ——————

“are you serious, satoru?” you ask incredulously, watching as he comes back to sit on the other end of the bench, ice cream cone in hand.

he didn’t even bring you one—what an asshole.

“oh sorry,” he shrugs, “i figured you and our daughter were planning on getting ice cream on your own without me. since, you know, apparently you guys love to have lots of things without me.”

“you’re being so dramatic—”

“i want ice cream too!” you hear a small voice call from the distance, making you turn to your daughter as she sprints over to you from the playground, eyeing the cone in satoru’s hand.

“you heard her,” he drawls, licking at his strawberry ice cream mockingly, “why don’t you go buy her a secret cone. i won’t look.”

being a single mom of two is a full time job, you think, you didn’t sign up for this.

guess who has two cavities ?? a certain brother of mine. guess who’s entire household has to give up sweets now for their brother’s inability to have proper dental hygiene ?? if you guessed me, you might just be psychic :O

[mi-olaaa]

↳˗ˏˋ Jjk men as your babydaddy. ˊˎ˗ ↴

☆ ⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ ☆

↳˗ˏˋ Jjk m.list..ˊˎ˗ ☆

Gojo Satoru.. ☆ ˊˎ˗

• He is so clingy, it’s almost sickening— y’all might’ve broken up, but to him? That don’t matter.

• You don’t know what a moment of peace is anymore, as soon two found out you were pregnant, he was ON it.

• Doctor’s appointments? He’s there. Shopping trips? He’s there. Whether it’s you resting at home and he’s caressing your belly, or you in the bed taking a nap. Gojo is there.

• What Gojo lacks in personal space he makes up for with how much he absolutely spoils and dotes on you. Whatever you want. Baby clothes, random pregnancy gadgets, even maternity clothes and stuff unrelated to pregnancy, you have it.

• About you two breaking up? Like I said it doesn’t matter, Gojo is literally there everyday almost, helping you out with everything, all the heavy lifting you can’t do at a certain point in your pregnancy, setting up the nursery, fucking you so good when your hormones become too much, and plenty other things to take care of the mama to be.

• Most importantly of all, when your bundle of joy was born, he was there, holding your hand through it all, ready to meet his baby with you.

Toji Fushiguro..☆ ˊˎ˗

• Toji honestly.. He’s not the best, but yk.. He’s definitely something.

• The whole reason you two broke up is because of you getting pregnant, he couldn’t handle it, literally, he walked out on you.

• He didn’t come back for a long ass time, you were only a month away from giving birth when he finally decided to accept the fact that he was a father again.

• He’s still the same asshole you know, but a little sweeter, but only because he felt guilty. Goes to a couple of the last appointments, and was there when the gender was found out.

• Gives you your space when you asks, understands that you are definitely still mad at him, but he looks absolutely adorable in the pictures you take of him and the baby.

• Sees the child every time on his visitation, one rare time he doesn’t, had to do another job. Other than that.. I mean idk, he could lean more the shitty bd at times, but he has his good moments too.

Nanami Kento..☆ ˊˎ˗

• When you found out you were pregnant, he was over the MOON. I mean, this man was crying, but not bawling his eyes out 😭

• Was talking so much shit about being a girl dad, while you thought it would be a boy. He won.

• Always says something along the lines of ‘my girls’. Always. He still has love for you definitely, and respects any boundaries you have, but yo’ ass was definitely testing how much self control he had some days.

• Turns out he had a pretty good amount of control to respect said boundaries, but it wasn’t until you FaceTimed him one night on that pregnancy hormone shit— Horny and leaking? How could he not take care of you?

• Whew shit y’all. If you weren’t already pregnant, you definitely would’ve been now. He put that WORK in. (He made gentle, intimate love to you, he’s too much of a loverboy to do anything else frfr (at least while you’re pregnant))

• Kento was there when you gave birth, and afterwards to help you with postpartum, mans is so obviously in love with you. SNEAK ATTACK— he proposes to you, and you quite literally woke up from a nap, holding your baby girl. You said yes. You said yes right? YOU BETTER HAD SAID YES MF HE IS SUCH A CUTIE PATOOTIE

Choso Kamo.. ☆ ˊˎ˗

• Honestly for the both of you, those nine months were a blur, he was there, partially out of curiosity though. 😭

• You had twins! Two little chubby cheek babies, one a girl, and one a boy.

• Choso doesn’t really know what he’s doing, but he’s trying y’all. He took almost an hour when he changed them for the first time, and cried because the babies were crying and he thought they must’ve been mad at him.

• always has the twins in those cute ass lil fuzzy animal onesies, his favorite to put them in are the shark ones. And he sends you pictures of them of course!

• Loves his kids to death and literally cannot process through his day without seeing them at least once. He might have some slight feelings for you, but pushes them down in respect of trying not to make a disruptive home life for the kids (is literally just convinced if you two get back together you will break up again and yeah..)

Suguru Geto.. ☆ ˊˎ˗

• Girl dad. I mean, he already had Mimiko and Nanako, ofc he’s a girl dad, don’t matter if they adopted frfr. Did i mention he’s a girl dad? HE IS A GIRL DAD. BOWS IN HIS HAIR, STICKERS AND ALL.

• Sucks ass at changing diapers tho, sorry y’all, we can’t all be great. His baby got that luscious hair from her daddy, blame him for heartburn.

• You two broke up? He dgaf about that! Literally js be all up in ya damn house, but honestly, if he wasn’t on the day your water broke, you would’ve been giving birth in the shower— so be thankful I guess? 😭

• He dotes on you, makes late night target runs for the random shit you crave, be tired asf, but anything for you pookie 🫶🏾, especially since you’re carrying his child.

• Mimiko and Nanako love the child too, tbf it’s a baby, who wouldn’t? Take their little sister shopping mf 😭 playing at the park when she’s older, and babysit too.

• Geto could be busy at some point, but when he is, he makes sure to see his kid once a week. He is such a cutie patootie with his skrunkly ass baby, you can’t help but take photos when you can.

☆ ⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ ☆

Authors note: honestly ion got nun to say 🤷🏾‍♀️ except for #girldadnanami2024‼️

‘IGHT BYEE 🫶🏾

[skyahri]

Arranged Marriage |Zuko X Reader| HC

Summary: Caught up in his personal conflict, Zuko completely neglects his marriage.

Warnings: Arranged marriage, forced marriage, whatever. Mentions of violence. Angsty Zuko and reader. Fem pronouns.

Masterlist Ko-fi

- - - - -

You'd married Zuko a little over a year into his reign as Fire Lord. You're the oldest daughter from a noble family, and the council decided it was best if Zuko married someone well liked by the community.

He didn't take it well. He was still hoping Mai would come back to him, and you being there completely obliterated those chances.

Not that there was a shot to begin with. Mai had made it abundantly clear that she wanted nothing to do with Zuko, even if she admitted to still having feelings for him.

Your relationship was staged to be perfect in the eyes of the people. Young love against all odds sort of thing.

The marriage ceremony was beautiful. Your robes were elegant, the flowers were perfect, and even your soon-to-be husband was handsome.

Zuko was charming towards the guests, really selling the story and gaining a lot of trust with his people. He was awkward but personable, something everyone ate up.

But he wasn't like that with you.

As soon as the two of you were away from public eyes, he didn't so much as look your way.

You slept in different rooms and ate at opposite ends of the table. He excluded you from as many duties as he could, stating something about him not wanting to concern you.

Life in a palace was pretty isolating. The only people you could talk to were servants, and even then, your topics were extremely limited.

You'd taken to the gardens as much as possible. It felt nice to be outside and even better to see the plants and animals.

Tending to the flowers was one of the few things you were allowed to do without constant eyes on you. The lonely atmosphere felt intentional instead of forced.

But after a year of this, not even the newly budding flowers could heal your disdain. Your once bubbly exterior had been chipped away by the dread and disappointment that lingered in your heart.

You were truly just a shell of your former self by this point.

There was no change with Zuko. He'd made no effort to get to know you or even just not hate you. Any attempt you'd made in the beginning to soften the relationship had been put out the moment it left your lips. It seemed like public pleasantries would be the extent of your marriage.

You'd long given up on trying to befriend the older women who waited on you. They had no desire to be anything more than the people who got you through the day.

You'd given up on trying to sneak away with the kitchen staff to the market. They feared being held responsible for you, even if you claimed to be plenty capable of taking care of yourself.

All that was really left to do was to just stay quiet and look pretty. The sad fate of the Fire Lord's wife.

You'd been laying in bed all morning. It was one of the few days where nothing was planned. No meetings, no guests, no events- nothing.

Well, at least you thought.

"Miss Y/N, Lord Zuko has requested your presence. We must get you ready immediately."

They'd dragged you out of bed and stuffed you into a pair of your nicest robes. They're doing your hair up and rushing to cover your face in makeup.

"Why am I being summoned?"

"The Avatar and his friends have arrived. They were the ones to request you."

"I see."

It made sense. You had met the Gaang at your wedding, and they were everything you'd expected; kind, loud, and passionate. Just like Zuko was said to be.

At the time, they'd promised to come by often, but you hadn't seen them since. You'd heard something about the rebuilding of the air temple and having some unexpected issues arise, so they just hadn't had time until now.

You met Zuko at the front gates. His friends arrived just after, allowing the servants to take their things to their rooms. Without a word, Katara grabbed your arm and dragged you away with the other girls. You turned back to see the same happening with Zuko and the boys.

They pulled you all around the surrounding area. For the first time in a long time, the dread started to fade away.

You'd bought some new incense, hair pins, and seeds for the flower beds. They were small purchases in comparison to the others, who had gone all out with new clothes, trinkets, and a heap of spicy snacks for Sokka.

You'd suggested several times over the last few hours that it was time to head back to the palace, but only now that it was growing dark did the trio actually listen.

Just as you had begun packing up, a string of explosions started on the next block and made its way towards the plaza you were in.

Toph was quick to make a stone barrier, but that didn't stop the cloud of soot from staining your skin and clothes.

A group of men had emerged from the smoke and revealed themselves to be Ozai supporters. Not everyone was pleased with the fundamentals Zuko was running the country on, so rebels had started causing a bit of an uproar.

Katara, Toph, and Suki did their best to take the men down swiftly, but that didn't stop you from getting injured in the process.

Your forearms had been severely burned when you'd covered your face from an attack. Katara offered to heal you, but it'd have to wait until you got back to the palace where her spirit water was.

The trip back was uneventful. Some of the local guards stationed in the city had insisted on escorting you guys back, which at this point you couldn't deny.

Apparently, word had already gotten back to Fire Lord Zuko, who was waiting at the front doors of the palace for your arrival.

He immediately stepped forward and picked up your hand, letting the scorched fabric fall and reveal your burn. He did the same with the other and sighed.

"Please give us the room."

You watched as everyone filed out of the room, the guards towards the exit and your friends towards the south wing.

"These are severe,"

He cupped your face in his hands and tilted your head so he could get a good look. His thumb swiped over some of the soot on your face.

You were confused by his actions, but the pain from your burns created a bit of a blur in your mind, keeping you from thinking too hard about it.

"The others couldn't protect you?"

"They did what they could. I apologize for the hassle-"

"Why are you apologizing? None of this is your fault."

You opted to stay silent. You weren't sure what to say. This is the longest conversation you'd had in private since you'd met, and you were finding it hard to navigate.

It was silent for a minute. The vibe was awkward, and you desperately wanted to hide away from all of it.

His face contorted slightly, like he wanted to say something but couldn't. You didn't pry. It didn't feel like your place to ask.

"Why don't you head to your room for a bath, and I'll have Katara meet you in there once you're done."

You nodded and made your way down the corridor. You stripped down and opted to just toss your clothes in the trash. Between the ash and scorch marks, there was no saving anything.

The second the water touched your wounds, you winced. Tears pricked your eyes as you watched small bits of charred skin go down the drain. The pain quickly went from a sharp sting to almost mind-numbing. You sat down and let the water just run down your body while you waited for the brunt of the discomfort to pass.

In your hazy state of mind, you hadn't heard the knock on the door, so you were surprised when Zuko entered in much more casual clothing.

When he saw you hunched over on the shower floor, he didn't say anything. He moved to the side of the tub and went to touch you, but you weakly swatted his hands away.

"I'm not comfortable with you being in here whole I'm naked."

"I'm your husband-"

"You're a stranger."

Ouch. Harsh but fair, and he knew it.

"Look, I know I haven't been good to you over the past year, and I'm sorry. We can talk about it more when you're feeling better, but for now just let me take care of you."

Satisfied with his response, you stopped resisting his help. You let him wash your hair and scrub your skin. His touch was gentle despite how rough his hands were.

He never once made you feel uncomfortable. He was thourough but never lingered. It was almost as if this was a normal occurrence.

When he was done, he offered you a towel and left you alone in the bathroom to get dressed. When you entered your bedroom, Katara was on your bed, but Zuko was nowhere in sight.

"Just me. Sorry to disappoint."

"No, no. I'm glad you're here."

You sat in front of her on the bed and let her examine your burns. She positioned your arms for easy access and opened her canister. You watched the water glow and the skin slowly heal itself. It was amazing, nothing like anything youd seem before.

"So," she broke the silence, "Has he warmed up to you at all?"

You were surprised by her words. You weren't sure how much they knew or what all you should say. Last thing you wanted to do was incriminate him.

Sensing your hesitation to respond, Katara clarified her question.

"I know everything, at least, from his side. You can be honest with me."

"Honest?"

"Honest."

A small smile crept onto your face.

"I think you're friend is an ass."

"I couldn't agree more."

You told her everything; the loneliness, the isolation, the lack of, well, everything in your relationship and life. She listened, something you're eternally grateful for. It felt nice just to get it off your chest instead of suffering silently.

"Today was the greatest day I've had in a long time. I got to leave the palace and talk to people and for once it felt like my husband didn't hate me."

"Zuko doesn't hate you."

"Could've fooled me."

"He doesn't hate you. Just talk to him. I know he has a lot to say, and it seems you do as well."

Once your arms were healed good as new, Katara left your quarters and returned to her own. You'd crawled under the covers and passed out, completely exhausted from the day.

The next day, you took Katara's advice and decided to speak with Zuko. You woke up early, before the sun had risen and made your way to his room.

He was surprised to see you, much less in your nightwear at such an hour. He invited you in nonetheless, where you then entered and decided to sit on his bed. You patted the spot in front of you, and he hesitantly sat.

"Katara said we should talk."

"Okay."

Sensing that he wasn't going to be the one to initiate anything, you decided to get the ball rolling.

It was a long conversation. Zuko confessed a lot of things, mostly about bitter feelings towards life and guilt over his actions. He apologized for everything and listened to everything you had to say. He made a lot of promises to be better.

He stuck to his word. He began including you in anything you were welcome to. Dinners became more personal, and eventually, you started sleeping in his room like a proper married couple.

By the time team Avatar had visited again, things had visibly changed. You were both happier, and your once fake marriage had become real. You meshed into the group just fine, making the pseudo family that much bigger.

All thanks to a simple conversation.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Run, Run, Run II

Leila Ouahabi x Reader

Summary: Your new life

Your feet pound on the concrete of the pavement, rain drip-dropping down your skin.

The rain of Manchester had been difficult to get used to when you originally moved, used to the sun of Spain and the warmth on your skin as you completed your morning run.

The rain wasn't something that you were surprised about but it was still something that you've had to get used to.

You've had to get used to a lot actually but one thing, for better or for worse has stayed that same.

Your damned attraction to female footballers older than you.

You'd been burned by Alexia. That was all you could think about those first few weeks. How every memory with her was stained with fire and flames and an overwhelming heat that made you lose your mind.

But she had cheated and you had promised yourself to never be like your mother - to never stay with someone that disrespected you like that.

Your father was a damned near perfect father. He took you to all of your track meets and he'd never missed a parent-teacher evening in his life. He bragged about you to his co-workers.

But he had never been a perfect husband, cheating on your mother multiple times but she had still stayed, happy in the relative normalcy she has with your father.

You'd promised to never be like her so the decision to leave Alexia and flee the country didn't take as much thought as you thought it would.

And now you're in rainy Manchester, drying off your hair with the handy towel that hangs up in the entrance hall for you to use exactly for these moments.

"You're back?"

You smile as you rub the towel over your hair.

"I said I would before you left me."

"Left you? I'm only going to camp."

You sigh dramatically, pressing the back of your palm to your still damp forehead. "And leaving me here, all alone! Locked in this prison!"

"You were the one that decided on this apartment? You said you liked the open plan arrangement? We have a balcony?"

You press a soft kiss to Leila's lips. "You knew I was only joking. But I will miss you when you're at camp."

"I'll miss you too. Are you sure you can't come to the match?"

You nibble on the inside of your cheek.

Your life with Leila was practically perfect in every way. She was so in tune with you and your needs. She knew when you needed a break from cooking dinner or doing the grocery shop. She knew exactly when you needed a little pick me up like flowers or chocolates or even a long cuddle session in bed.

Everything was perfect but you just can't bring yourself to go back to Spain in that way, to put yourself in a situation where you'll be so close to Alexia again, the woman that you had once thought would be your wife some day.

"Baby..." You say, looking up at Leila," You know I wouldn't put you in that situation. Alexia...I don't want her to try to ostracise you from the team."

Leila sighs. "She's never done such a thing. Even...Even during...you know..."

"I know but it might be different. I mean...with me and her, it was...I don't know. I don't want you be at risk."

"I understand," Leila says, forehead pressed against your own," But if you did want to come, I've got a ticket reserved for you, alright?"

"I'll...I'll think about it. I promise."

Leila thinks about it too, all throughout camp. It circles through her mind like a dog with a bone. She wakes up thinking about. She goes to sleep thinking about it.

You've watched plenty of her matches at City, where you've become a favourite of the fans without even meaning to. You're a constant presence in the stands with a cup of whatever warm drink you poured yourself before leaving the house.

She's lost count of how many of her Panini stickers you've signed for fans before coming down onto the pitch to greet her.

But you've never come to one of her matches for Spain, not with Alexia on the team, the ever lurking looming presence of your relationship.

Leila's never really seen her captain in the same way since. She's a good captain, an amazing player but Leila's learnt how to separate those aspects of Alexia to the one that she knows you experienced, the one that had tried to manipulate you into staying in a relationship, the one that had tried to promise you everything to stay with her even after cheating.

Leila can separate the Alexia on the pitch to the one off of it but she knows that is something you can't do.

The Alexia on the pitch and off the pitch has always been the same Alexia to you. There is no separation of who she is and Leila can accept your decision to stay away for that reason.

But it still doesn't stop her from wishing you would come to see her play.

The option is open for you but Leila would never hold it against you if you decided not to.

There were plenty of other games for you to go to.

"So..." Codi wheedles during breakfast before the match," Where's the girlfriend?"

Leila almost chokes over her cereal. "At home."

"She isn't coming?"

"She has the option if she wants. She's busy."

Codi rolls her eyes. "She's always busy during international break. She's got to come at some point."

Leila rolls her eyes. "She's her own person. I won't force her to do anything."

"You've got a new girlfriend?" Alexia asks, looking up from her phone.

Leila looks back down at her bowl, swirling the milk around with the back of her spoon. "I...Yeah, I do. She's great..."

She bites her tongue, swallowing back what she actually wants to say, all of the things she wants to spit at Alexia on your behalf.

But she doesn't.

Leila stays silent, swirling her cereal around as the conversation moves on.

The pass is perfectly weighted from her on the pitch a few hours later, speeding through the legs of opposition players for Alexia to slot neatly into the net.

The rush of an assist runs through Leila as she turns to look into the stands.

You're sitting there, amongst the cheering of the fans.

Leila had seen you earlier, a surprise in a hoodie to cover your hair but your girlfriend could just see the Spanish jersey poking out from under it.

She suddenly finds herself praying that it's hers.

She'd even take it being blank.

Because Leila knows Alexia noticed you earlier, had seen you when the big screen focused on the crowd during the warm ups. She had seen Alexia stare at you. She had seen the aborted movement Alexia made towards you, like she was about to abandon the warm ups to go up to you - sweetly saccharine tone at the ready to convince you to go back to her.

Leila hopes that if you do have a name on your shirt, it's not Alexia's.