#my little shop has done way better than I ever thought it would

[sweet-s0rr0w]

⭐️🎄 Merry Christmas and happy holidays! 🎄⭐️

How do you think drarry celebrate the winter season? ♥️

Ah, Merry Christmas to you too, and thank you for the ask, which really made me smile :) I came up with about a dozen different replies, then thought the most fun way to answer would be to have a think about some of the Drarrys from my fics, and what they'd be doing over the festive period!

Drarry from Nor All That Glisters spend Christmas in Europe, or possibly up in Durham seeing Lee, who's off at uni doing Chemistry. Sometimes Harry has to work, and Draco spends a few days at the Manor, helping his mum with cutting back the Shrivelfigs, and renewing all her anti-frost charms. They'll get to the Burrow at some point, though probably on one of the quieter days; the holiday season's not the easiest for Draco, and though he'd never say it (and it's probably in his head - the Felix negative after-effects should be long worn off by now ofc), he still sometimes feels a little out of place amongst Harry's closest friends. Harry though, Draco never doubts.

Kept in Cages Drarry are in Kenya, of course, and it's Erumpent mating season, so there's plenty of work to be done keeping the local Muggles from being accidentally trampled/exploded, and fending off poachers, and not much time for festivities. I expect they do manage to do a Christmas lunch of a sort, though, with Christmas music, and probably some crackers that Ron's sent over (the kind that go bang, for the non-Brits), and green beans rather than Brussels Sprouts.

Among the Elements Drarry are definitely at the Burrow, where Scorpius is thoroughly spoiled by Molly and Narcissa both. Scorp's doing brilliantly; at three years old he's still a little dot, but bright as a button, and knows exactly how to get his way. Ron and Hermione are expecting their first now, and Draco can't help feeling nervous at the sight of her barely-visible bump, thinking about everything that happened. He doesn't say anything to Harry, who he knows is one day hoping for a sibling for Scorp, but he's not quite sure yet if that worry will ever go away.

And Waking Up Slow Drarry are at Narcissa's of course, for their three hundred and something-th Christmas dinner of the year! They try to make the real one a little more special, which usually means that Harry does end up dancing; he's getting pretty good at it now, if he does say so himself! Draco's shop reopens between Boxing Day and New Year (there's a little trade from the tourists visiting Bath over Christmas), and then they'll be locking up (and set some surreptitious warding spells) and heading off by Portkey for some sun and a well-deserved rest. They're friends with a few magical families in the local area now, and they'll all take turns to go see Narcissa while Drarry are away.

This was so much fun I cannot! Thank you so much!

Me, I've had a manic Christmas hosting many people and ferrying my children hither and thither, and staring longingly at all the brilliant works that are appearing in my ao3 inbox. I'm looking forward to finally sitting down and catching up on: soft by @garagepaperback, Falter by @skeptiquex, Better not pout by @maesterchill, The Chosen Bun by @hoko-onchi-writes... and finishing off my Christmas re-read of O Come, All Ye Faithful by @toomuchplor!

I'm actually going to tag a few friends to see if they're interested in doing this too: @tackytigerfic, @epitomereally, @fluxweeed, @citrusses, @the-starryknight, @wolfpants, @lqtraintracks, @oknowkiss (plus all tagged above ofc, and anyone else who fancies!!) - any updates from any of your Drarrys, and what they might be up to this holiday time?

[imagrindylow]

Secret Santa

Percy Weasley / Marcus Flint 2.5k Words Content Warnings: None, it's just fluff. Summary: Oliver signs up Marcus for the Hogwarts gift exchange as a prank, but things end up going better than expected for Marcus and his secret Santa. A/N: 🎅🎄 Merry Christmas! 🎅🎄

~~~~~

“Did you sign up for the gift exchange?” Percy asked Oliver, raising a brow and glancing up over his transfiguration textbook at the other boy as he took a seat across from him at their usual table in the library.

Did Percy honestly think that Oliver would be one to sign up for some silly gift exchange ? He had more important things to think about, like Quidditch, revising, and just… literally anything else…

Oliver shook his head, letting out a huff that would answer the question before his words ever did. “Absolutely not. Can’t be arsed to go Christmas shopping for some random sod,” he said, pulling out class notes from his bag that needed another once over before an upcoming quiz.

Percy’s lips pulled into a thoughtful line and he eyed the boy across from him, almost disbelieving. “I could have sworn I saw you dropping a slip into the box in the Great Hall. Perhaps I was mistaken?”

“Oh, that you did. Wasn’t my name, though,” Oliver admitted, stifling a snicker with his hand. He didn’t care to elaborate just yet, giving Percy room for the lecture he knew was imminent. 

Percy groaned at Oliver’s admission, his forehead hitting his palm as his elbow moved to rest on the table. “You wrote someone else's name down? You know that isn’t allowed,” he said with a sigh. “Now, what if this person – who might not have planned on participating – doesn’t follow through with getting a gift for who they’re assigned? You’re going to ruin someone’s Christmas.” 

“Oh Merlin . As though the professors would let anyone go without a gift after having signed up. It’ll work out just fine, just you watch,” Oliver assured him, appearing unbothered and still quite smug about what he’d done, while also being thoroughly amused with Percy’s dramatic take on what was little more than a silly little prank.

“Who’s name did you even put down?” Percy wondered, staring across the table at Oliver, not even trying to hide the judgment on his face. 

“Flint’s,” Oliver said, a boyish giggle escaping his lips, one that made him glance over his shoulder to make sure he hadn’t caught the attention of the librarian.

Percy gaped at Oliver, staring at him disapprovingly over the rim of his glasses as they slipped down the bridge of his nose. “Did you really need to add fuel to the fire?” He asked, adjusting his glasses back into place before closing his textbook. “Why would you do that?”

“He’ll never know it’s me, for one, and for two, it’s all just strategy,” Oliver said, tapping a finger to his temple and smirking at Percy, before continuing on explaining his thoroughly devised plan. 

“Picture it, he’ll get a letter with the name of the person he's assigned to get a gift for, and he’ll be so confused – because let's face it – there was no way he was going to sign up to participate. Maybe he’ll stress about it, try to tell Snape there was a mistake or something, that he didn’t actually sign up, but by then it’ll be too late. He’ll be on the hook because he won’t want to look like more of an arsehole than he already does. He’ll be distracted, and the less he’s thinking about quidditch, the better it is for me. For Gryffindor.”

Percy had to admit, Oliver was great at planning, and as it were, scheming. Percy’s eyes narrowed the slightest bit as he tried to hide the grin threatening to split his face, but he cleared his throat and regained his composure. “That isn’t funny, Oliver.”

“Whatever you say, Perce. I just feel sorry for the poor soul who has to buy something for him,” Oliver said, quite pleased with himself for managing to make Percy crack a bit with his antics.

~~~

“This is all your fault!” Percy said harshly, sliding onto the bench beside Oliver in the Great Hall for lunch one afternoon, a week before Christmas holiday. There was a slip of parchment clutched in his hand, which he slammed on the table in front of Oliver, making the other boy’s teacup clink against its saucer.

“What are you on about?” Oliver asked, looking to Percy then to the paper he’d been so aggressively presented with. Oliver nearly choked on his bread when he saw Flint’s name scrawled on the parchment in his very own handwriting, along with the very short and made-up list of gift ideas for the Slytherin that he’d come up with. “Oh… Well, that is… Hmm. I didn’t think you’d–”

“No, you didn’t think, did you? Now I have to get him a gift. I’m making you shop with me, you bloody nitwit,” Percy spat, his face flushed both from annoyance and some other feeling that he couldn’t quite place. 

“I didn’t know you’d even signed up,” Oliver said, as though this would help. He watched as Percy stabbed at a piece of meat on the serving platter and brought it to his plate and he couldn’t help but wonder if Percy had been picturing stabbing something else just then. “I’ll shop with you.”

“Of course I signed up, I’m Head Boy . I wanted to set a good example for the prefects – to get participation up across all of the houses,” he scolded, then dug into his lunch, keeping his eyes on his plate for fear that his eyes would reveal a bit too much of what he was thinking – that he wasn’t actually upset with who he’d gotten assigned to.

“I just can’t believe out of everyone, you got assigned to him,” Oliver muttered. “I wonder who he got.”

Percy wondered too.

~~~

Percy hadn’t paid much mind to Marcus before this week… Sure, he was familiar enough with the Slytherin, he’d often hear Oliver ranting about the other boy, especially post quidditch matches. And yes, Percy had seen him fly and had thought about that a good deal. But appreciating one’s form while flying was hardly the same as sitting and wondering about one’s inner workings, likes, and dislikes. 

But because of his dorm mate, now Percy was forced to think about the other boy much more than he’d wanted to. How do you pick a Christmas gift for someone who’s family is so wealthy and could already buy him whatever he wanted, especially when there wasn’t a relationship there to draw personal or sentimental ideas from? Hell, there wasn’t a friendship there at all , which was making this whole thing feel awkward and weird . 

But perhaps the most awkward and weird thing was currently happening inside of Percy’s own head. He truly wanted to get the other boy a gift he’d enjoy, he wanted to see Marcus smile while opening the gift. He wanted to be the reason behind it. 

Weird, weird, weird.

Percy meandered around Hogsmeade with Oliver, who begrudgingly came along for the shopping trip, a mixture of being true to his word and feeling absolutely guilty for Percy inadvertently becoming the butt of this little prank.

“Do you think he’d want quidditch things?” Percy wondered, stopping to window shop outside of Quality Quidditch Supplies. 

“I don’t care if he would or not, you’re not getting him anything that could put him at an advantage in the matches,” Oliver warned, shooting a glare at the taller boy. The audacity of even suggesting such a thing. For someone so brilliant, Percy could really be stupid at times, Oliver thought to himself.

“You could get him a beautification potion. See if it does anything for those gnashers of his,” Oliver suggested with a smirk as they resumed walking the cobbled streets together.

Percy scrunched his nose at the idea, failing to find it amusing. He’d never admit it, but generally speaking, he found prominent facial features attractive and quite endearing. GENERALLY SPEAKING. He absolutely didn’t find Marcus or his teeth attractive in any way. What a silly fleeting thought. He shook his head, as though it would manually remove the idea from his brain.

“I wonder what his favorite sweets are?” Percy wondered out loud, not dignifying Oliver’s previous comment with a remark. He led the way towards Honeydukes and grabbed a small shopping basket as he passed through the doors. 

“Bloody hell mate, you’re picking out a Secret Santa gift for Marcus Flint of all people. Not a gift for someone you actually fancy. Just grab something. Could be anything,” Oliver advised and grabbed a basket of his own. He wouldn’t pass up the chance to grab some chocolate frogs and jelly slugs for stocking stuffers for his family, planning to bring them back home with him over Christmas hols. 

Perusing the shop's aisles, Percy added a few things to his basket – a variety of chocolates and candies – hoping that at least something would hit the mark for Marcus. He didn’t want to spend too much of the recommended budget on sweets, though, that was too easy of an out, he thought. 

The boys checked out of Honeydukes with their goodies, and after far too much mulling around the village, Percy finally decided on some Self Correcting Ink – something he found quite useful for quick yet accurate note taking in his classes – and a pair of dueling gloves, in addition to the sweets, to gift to Marcus. These were all things he’d thought Marcus would both use and enjoy. Without personal knowledge of the other boy’s likes and hobbies (besides quidditch, of course) Percy defaulted to practical gifts. Things he’d use, himself.

~~~

Participants in the gift exchange met in the Great Hall following dinner the evening before students were permitted to head back home for the holidays. The head table was littered with wrapped gifts of all sizes, and the heads of houses were gathered round to pass out gifts to their recipients.

Percy sat with the other Gryffindors as one by one, the gifts were handed out, keeping a close eye on packages that were carried to the Slytherin table, not wanting to miss Marcus opening what he’d got him. 

Percy was pleasantly surprised, actually, to see that Marcus seemed to be in good spirits as he waited to receive his gift. He was chatting with a girl beside him who’s name Percy didn’t know, and watching with everyone else as various other classmates of theirs opened their gifts.

It wasn’t too long before Percy watched Snape pick up Marcus’ gift and carry it over to him. Percy had wrapped the package with plain brown paper and finished it off with a green bow.  Why was he so anxious seeing Marcus tug loose the ribbon? It wasn’t often that his stomach felt fluttery yet here he was, his insides squirming as he watched from across the room Marcus ripping the paper from the box and pawing through the sweets inside. 

Marcus was smiling, and it looked good on him. The Slytherin read the label on the Self Correcting Ink bottle and gave a subtle nod, then showed the bottle to the girl beside him. Unsurprisingly, he looked most pleased when he pulled the dueling gloves from the box. He tried them on right away and splayed his fingers in the leather before closing his fist. The action made Percy shiver, and he learned something about himself just then.

Percy immediately looked away when Marcus looked up and started scanning the Great Hall, clearly trying to catch eyes with whoever had bought him the gifts. He knew he’d have to approach the other boy once all of the gifts had been opened, but for now, his stomach was far too fluttery to look at him.

Percy was so lost in thought that he almost didn't notice when his own gift was placed down in front of him on the table. His gift was neatly wrapped in red paper and was quite weighty. It was a book, he knew as soon as he picked it up, and tearing back the wrapping paper would only prove him right. It was a hardback copy of a muggle fiction novel that Percy had read many times, but this one was nicer than the copy the library had, the copy that he was used to. The cover had golden inlaying and smelled of real leather. Who the hell was this from? 

Percy looked up, scanning the room and tuning out the chatter of his classmates around him, who were busy opening their own gifts and speculating with their friends. He first checked the Ravenclaw table, catching eyes with Penelope Clearwater, who only shook her head and shrugged when Percy gave her questioning brows. 

He glanced next at Marcus, mostly just to check that he was still enjoying his presents and caught the boy sinking his teeth into a chocolate frog. They made eye contact and Marcus smiled again , this time definitely at Percy. Weird. 

Percy sat quietly with his book until finally all of the gifts in the exchange had been opened, and it was time to reveal himself to Marcus. His stomach still felt lighter than the rest of his insides, and this was doing odd things to his heartbeat. Why was Marcus coming over here? Percy was supposed to be going towards him.

“Like it?” Marcus asked, standing beside where Percy sat, one hand on his hip, and his gift box tucked under his other arm. He had a smug grin on his face that said he knew he’d done well.

“This is from you?” Percy asked, looking up at the other boy before finally getting to his feet. Sitting down while Marcus was standing just felt funny. Percy wasn't used to feeling small.

“It was. So?” Marcus asked again, now having to look up at Percy. 

“I love it. How’d you know?”

Marcus let out a proud little huff. “Asked Pince what your most checked out book was. Figured you’d need your own copy. You’re too easy to buy for.” 

Percy was completely shocked with this information, and he could feel his cheeks going red. Had it really been that simple? Oliver would be upset to hear that signing Marcus up for the gift exchange hadn't been a distraction for him after all, it would seem.

“Thats– I mean–” Percy shook his head. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Marcus said. The Slytherin looked around, noticing that no one else had approached the pair, leading him to the conclusion that Percy must have been his secret Santa as well. He raised his brow at Percy expectantly.

“Oh, yeah. Yours are from me, too, actually,” he said. “I wasn’t sure what to get you, I hope you like everything?”

“I do, you did good, Weasley, I’m impressed,” Marcus said, the faintest blush gracing his cheeks as he glanced at the box tucked under his arm. He looked Percy over, seeming to be sizing him up. “Happy Christmas, Percy.”

Hearing his first name on Marcus’ lips did something funny to Percy’s stomach, which was already unsettled as it was. And the boys blush? Bloody hell. He was done for. This whole gift exchange thing had gone even better than he’d expected. He’d need to make it a point to find out Marcus’ birthday, as well.

“Happy Christmas, Marcus."

[prettyflyshyguy]

Pleased to announce today I have:

-Stopped doomscrolling

-Prepped and am about to mail some shop orders + go for a walk

I have yet to:

-Send a slightly scary email (its not actually scary but those that know know)

-do three other things I've been putting off

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

A fluffy/ mild angsty valentines fic with Bucky where reader gets HIM flowers ( because of the whole guys don’t get flowers thing :((( ) maybe there’s some mutual pining and sweet confession? Like she gets the flowers for him because he makes some joke about not having had a valentine for nearly a century and she’s just like “absolutely not will not allow that >:(“ but he thinks it’s just a joke at first :(

Anyway thanks! Love you!

Bloom.

bucky barnes x female reader

warnings - none

valentines masterlist. inbox. masterlist.

“Are we almost done?”

Bucky looks so miserable, you can’t help but laugh.

“Yeah, we are. We just need flowers, and then we have everything on the list.”

He grabs the shopping cart and pushes it across the grocery store, determinedly marching in the right direction. You’re practically running to keep up with him.

“Which ones?”

You look at all the flowers, touching some of the petals gently as you decide.

“I’m not sure. What’s your favourite kind of flower, Buck?”

He looks at you with a blank expression.

“I don’t have one.”

“What?”

Now it’s your turn to look blankly at him.

“I’ve never been bought flowers. Why would I have a favourite type?”

You frown at him. The idea of Bucky never receiving flowers makes you much sadder than it should, but you’re trying to play it cool.

“Oh. Well… which of these do you like the look of the most? They’re going to go in the middle of the table in the kitchen, so they need to be bright. Give the room some colour.”

He circles the flower display a few times, looking around carefully. Eventually, he picks up a bouquet of tulips, all pinks and oranges and yellows.

“I like these.”

You smile softly, nodding your head.

“Good choice.”

You’re somewhat distracted as the two of you check out. You put the tulips in the bag carefully, glancing at Bucky every so often. He catches you looking, and can’t help but wonder what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

You’ve been standing outside Bucky’s door for the better part of fifteen minutes.

He knows.

He heard your footsteps, can hear your chest heaving, lungs working overtime. He’s just waiting for you to make your own decision.

Eventually, you do. After thirty minutes, you decide to just do it. You’ve got nothing to lose.

You knock.

Bucky swings open the door as if he’s been waiting for you, standing patiently on the other side.

“Breathe, honey.”

You didn’t even realise you’d been holding your breath. You exhale, never breaking eye contact with the man in front of you.

“Hi, Buck.”

“Hi, you.”

“I got you something.”

“You did?”

You grab the bouquet from where you’ve leant it against the wall, holding it out to him.

He stops in his tracks, brows furrowed in confusion.

“They’re… for me?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

You inhale deeply, willing yourself to find some temporary courage.

“Because tomorrow is Valentine’s Day. And no one has ever bought you flowers.”

He’s smiling now, soft and knowing.

“You’re the kindest person I’ve ever met.”

He says it so sincerely, so genuinely, that it makes you want to cry. You hand the flowers to him, grinning as he admires them up close.

“They’re beautiful. You’re beautiful.”

That takes you by surprise.

You and Bucky have always had a careful, consistent friendship. Ever since he first barrelled into your life, you’ve thrown tender smiles his way, nodding your head in acknowledgement every time he passed you in the hallways. He warmed to you, slowly but surely. Your kindness, your generosity, your genuineness - you’ve charmed him delicately, somewhat accidentally.

You’ve also been in love with him since day one.

You never thought to mention it - he’s healing, learning, growing as he goes, and you don’t want to halt his progress. So, you’ve pined from a distance, gently and quietly.

“Buck… will you be my valentine?”

He beams at you, the most luminescent smile you’ve ever seen from him.

“Oh, sweetheart. I’ve been working up the courage to ask you that every year since I met you. Knew you’d beat me to it.”

You laugh, stepping in closer to him. He puts the flowers down carefully, reaching out to cup your face in his hands.

“Can I kiss you, my valentine?”

You nod, already leaning in. He presses his lips to yours, and he swears he feels flowers bloom in his ribcage, bright and alive.

[dragonnarrative-writes]

Part 3 - Oakmoss

Autumn Embers Masterlist

CW: Omegaverse scent-heavy flirting, food related flirting, Brandon (derogatory)

It’s three weeks later that Sergeant Garrick catches you walking out of your building at the end of the day. You’re more distracted than usual - trying to decipher a text from Jack about his upcoming heat - so you’re almost on top of him before you realize. His smile is genuine when you jump back from nearly stepping on his boot.

“Sorry!”

“No harm done,” he assures you. His hand comes forward. “Sergent Kyle Garrick.”

“We’ve met,” you point out, allowing a short, comfortable handshake.

His grin goes a little bit sheepish when he takes his hand back. “Well, I had to introduce myself better than Soap, at least. That’s MacTavish.”

“Ah,” you say. “Well… good to meet you.”

“The team wanted to thank you, for the information,” he continues. “It was very helpful. That Lawrence guy would have had us runnin’ in circles. We also, uh,” he shuffles his feet a bit, and looks away. “We didn’t want to overstep. By offering a gift before clearing it with you.”

Oh, he thinks he’s clever. You arch an eyebrow, “You want me to give your pack permission to give me gifts, Sergent Garrick?”

“I told them you’d catch on too fast,” he laughs.

At least he has the decency not to deny it. Here you had been tying yourself into knots about being too emotional in a meeting, and now a pretty man is asking permission for his pack to court you. Part of you is relieved. The last thing you need is more alphas pissed off at you, prowling around the base looking for a pissing contest.

Another part of you is annoyed.

You carefully regulate your breathing. “Yeah, I’m pretty good at catching these kinds of things by now. But you don’t have to thank me for doing my job.” You sidestep him and start walking toward the car park.

Sergent Garrick falls into step beside you. “I’ve offended you.”

You sigh. Of course he’d be sensitive to the way your scent changes. You practically scent burned him in a closed room. You step to the side of the walkway and turn to face him. “I’m sure you and your pack are wonderful, sergeant, but I’ve had a long day.”

His smile is charming. “Anything we can do to help?”

“Not approaching me with a courting offer at my workplace would be a good start,” you say, blandly. You watch his face muscles twitch through confusion, shock, and a tinge of horror before continuing. “While I’m flattered that you would tell your pack about me, I prefer to keep things professional on base. And I’m sure your team would prefer that as well. Have a nice night.”

“Wait,” He reaches out, but has the good sense not to touch you. “Would it be better, then, to maybe approach you off-base?”

Why do alphas think I’ll find you elsewhere is ever a good thing to imply? “Like how Sergeant MacTavish approached me at the bar?” He doesn’t seem to have anything to say to that. You take a step back, his confusion tickling your nose. “I’m not really interested in being the subject of whatever competitive thing you have going. Have a good night, Sergeant.”

By the time you get back to your car, you’re not mad anymore. Just tired. You climb into the drivers seat and tip your head back with a sigh. Garrick and MacTavish aren’t the first alphas to want to try taming the Wildfire, and they won’t be the last. But it still stings. For once, it’d be nice if someone saw you and thought you were pretty and interesting instead of just a challenge to conquer.

You let yourself have a few more seconds of self-pity before you strap in and start the car. You’ll give Jack a call, make plans for his heat, and leave the sergeants to do their thing.

The next day, when you get to your office, there’s a travel cup of hot coffee from your favorite coffee shop on the edge of your desk, along with a gift card and a note. You don’t really think much of it - coffee from Sherry as a reward for a job well done isn’t unheard of - but the the gift card for 25 pounds is a bit excessive. The unfamiliar handwriting on the note catches your eye.

Please accept this apology for yesterday.

It’s signed by Captain John Price. That’s… interesting. Speaks well to the cohesion of the 141 that Sergeant Garrick would let him know that he made you uncomfortable. Hopefully this means that neither of the sergeants will be dogging your steps. On the other hand, an almost perfect coffee made it to your office somehow. You’re still dealing with a bit of overbearing alpha bullshit. But apology bullshit is better than the alternative, so you settle in for your day.

By lunch, you’ve pushed the note to the back of your mind. When Sherry walks in, you expect a conversation about taking on Jerry’s workload with his upcoming parental leave. You don’t expect her to place a paper bag from the very fancy sandwich shop across town onto your desk. You can smell warm bread and something else in there.

“Special delivery,” she says. Before you can pull the bag close to poke around, she holds out a folded piece of paper. “Ah, ah! I was told to give you this first.”

“What? Sherry, let me… eat.”

Please accept this offer as a formal request to discuss an intention of courtship. Captain Johnathan Price Lieutenant Simon Riley Sergeant Kyle Garrick Sergeant Johnathan MacTavish

Each of the signatures is different. You look from the note to Sherry’s curious face and back down. You’re glad you have so much practice locking down your scent, because your emotions are all over the place. You flash her a quick smile as you refold the note and stick it under the edge of your keyboard.

“Thanks, I’ll take care of it.”

She nods, with a nervous smile of her own. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah,” you lie, hoping she doesn’t pick up on the spike of your scent as your heart races. “The 141 had a successful mission after that awful meeting with Brandon and that CIA agent.”

“Oh! Well that’s good,” she says with a sharp nod. She knocks twice on the edge of your desk before she turns to leave. “You always do good work. Least those boys could do is buy you lunch.”

Once she’s gone, you wait a few seconds, then get up to quietly close your door. And then you eye the fancy paper bag on your desk like it’s a bomb. You circle back to pick up the note, read it, fold it, open it to read again.

You snap a picture and send it to the group chat. Then snap a picture of the gifts and note from this morning. You re-re-re-read the second note again.

When you phone rings, you pick up without looking. “What do I do?”

Jack wails into your ear. “Bitch, what do you MEAN what do you do?”

“Do I open it?”

“Open what?”

You snap a picture of the stamped bag sitting on the edge of your desk and send it to the chat. “They sent this with-”

Chrissy’s icy voice startles you. “If you don’t show me what’s in that bag right now I will scream.”

“What if opening it is accepting it?” When the phone chirps in your ear, you hiss, “I can’t do a video call, I’m in my office.”

“Quit stalling,” Chrissy snaps. “Open the bag.”

You pull it closer, then pause. “Should we wait for Mel?”

“NOW,” Jack bellows.

“I’m also at work,” Mel’s says, steady and unbothered. “So please stop yelling.”

The bag crinkles a bit when you pull it closer, silencing everyone. You’re not sure why you’re holding your breath, but it comes out in a little huff of disappointment when you look inside and the first thing you see is napkins.

“Okay,” you whisper, as you start pulling things out. The first food item you find is a roll. “We have… bread, still warm. A half of a sandwich - ooh! The goat cheese and pear one. A half salad,” you squint through the translucent lid. “It looks like it has berries. Oh, it looks like there’s a soup in here, too, nice. And the utensils. And…”

When you don’t say anything else, Jack prompts you. “And?”

“There’s a, uh,” you cover your eyes as your face flushes. “It’s a cake.”

The silence is deafening. You make yourself peek into the unassuming box, and the four-inch, round cake positively dripping with what smells like orange syrup, spices, and the faintest hint of alcohol. Your face gets even hotter when you connect the dots and realize the cardamom you’re smelling reminds you of Sergeant Garrick.

It’s Mel who breaks the silence, clearing their throat before asking, “Did they get you a custom cake from the Trinity Rose?”

You can’t make yourself say anything, so you take a picture of it for the group chat. Then a couple more at different angles, because the curl of orange and peel on top looks like something out of a movie. You hear when the photos load, each of your friends sucking in a quiet breath. Chrissy must mute her mic, because the background noise drops significantly.

“Someone please say something,” you whisper.

Jack says, “Holy shit.”

“What does it smell like?” Mel asks, cutting to the chase. “Is it good?”

“It smells so good,” you admit. “Like… ridiculously good.”

Chrissy comes back on the line, sounding a little breathless. “They apologized with coffee this morning?”

“Yeah-”

“So this wasn’t part of the apology,” she continues. “Guys, this is. This is a legit courtship thing.”

“The website says they offer courtship packages,” Mel confirms. “It’s pretty cute, a subscription service for lunch. But it doesn’t actually include a cake.”

“There’s gotta be at least a two week wait on something like this.” You say it as soon as you realize it. Embarrassment flashes hot and cold down your entire body and you have to cover your face. “Oh gods, this had to be planned in advance.”

Chrissy hisses, “The bakery at the Trinity Rose is award winning. Of course this was planned in advance.”

“Wait, are they all in a pack?” Jack yelps. “All four of them? And they’re all alphas? There has to be more to the pack than that, right?”

Mel makes a disagreeing sound. “If there were more, they’d have signed. This is a very formal pre-courtship gift. Well. Mostly formal.”

You have to resist chewing on your lip. “Should I eat it?”

“No reason to waste a perfectly nice lunch,” they point out. Jack and Chrissy make agreeing noises. “But I’d probably wait to eat the cake until you get home.”

“So I can think about it?”

“What? No. You’ve already decided to hear them out,” Mel dismisses. “I just wouldn’t eat a sex cake at work.”

That startles a squawking laugh out of you. “It’s not a sex cake!”

“Oh, so they got a custom syrup cake that matches your scent as a platonic gesture?” Chrissy challenges.

“…There’s a little bit of cardamom,” you admit. “That’s Sergeant Garrick’s scent.”

“It’s a sex cake,” Mel confirms over the train whistle noise Chrissy makes before she can mute herself again. “When Garrick shows up to escort you to your car this evening, maybe don’t chew his head off.”

“Oh no,” you groan. Your head thumps against your arm as you throw yourself down onto the desk. “He was trying to ask for permission to court me and I was a complete bitch to him.”

You deserve the laughter of your best friends for that. But eventually, you rally. If you’re actually going to enjoy your lunch, you have to start eating now or you’ll have to eat and work later. You start with the sandwich and mute your mic as you take a huge bite. By unspoken agreement, the conversation shifts to the weekend and Jack’s heat, then Chrissy’s client who insists on in person meetings three days before her heat. Mel lets you all ramble for a good twenty minutes before ushering everyone off the phone since Jack is the only one who doesn’t have deadlines and scheduled clients.

Which leaves you staring at the cake.

Your eyes dart to the still closed door of your office, then back. You’re too full of good food to eat a whole cake, but… a bite couldn’t hurt. And while the gift is definitely a little… suggestive… it’s not actually a sex cake. Just a bit... decadent. Sherry’s husband sends her flowers that match their pack’s scents. That’s basically the same thing.

Right?

Before you can second guess yourself, you scoop a bite into your mouth.

The taste that bursts over your tongue makes you moan out loud. You definitely should have waited until you got home. The cake is so rich, cut by the orange and whiskey in a way that almost demands a second bite. There’s something indescribable teasing the back of your palate, hidden by cardamom and the hint of something - raspberry? - but so distinctly there. When you try to focus on it, you keep coming back to a smokiness that can’t be anything but the alcohol.

Before you know it, you’ve eaten a quarter of the little cake. Your stomach feels warm, and you admit to yourself that it’s probably not a good idea to keep consuming alcohol at work. So you close the little box and lick the fork while you log back into your computer one handed. Your lips are sticky. Even after you use your thumb to help clean them off you’re so aware of them.

You catch yourself pursing and rolling your lips through the rest of your day. You can’t resist taking another bite every now and then. Every time, you remember Mel calling it a sex cake and wonder if Captain Price thought about this when placed the order. You remember the way Lieutenant Riley’s eyes had slid down your body. Had he known he wanted to send you this cake then? Did Sergeant MacTavish imagine you licking your fork when he signed the note? Was Sergeant Garrick thinking about this moment when he saw you yesterday?

When the day ends, you send a picture of the cake with more than a third missing to the group chat as you log out. I fucked up, it’s a sex cake.

Beta Daddy: Told you.

Best Bitch: WHAT DOES IT TASTE LIKE

Barbie: drinks at mel and jax tonite

You: :thumbsup:

You: genuinely no idea how to describe, i’ll try tonight

You’re nervous, closing up shop for the evening. Would Sergeant Garrick be waiting for you again? Or will your hyper-independence come back to bite you? You hope someone will be there to walk you, and the possibility of that not being the case cools you. And then you look back at the box of cake in your hands and flush hot. Maybe it’s better that you don’t run into anyone after an entire afternoon of rubbing your lips and thinking of the 141.

You’re shocked out of your musings just before you can exit the building by Brandon of all people calling your name. With a groan, you’re dropped back to reality. You at least let yourself step outside for some fresh air before he can reach you.

“Sherry said the 141 had a question for you. What was it?” Not even a hello. Typical. Thanks a lot, Sherry.

Luckily, you have a lie prepared. “Just another question about Cloudstone.”

“What question?” He steps closer, trying to use his height to intimidate. “I’m the point of contact, they should be speaking to me directly.”

“Hm. Maybe should’ve reached out to you,” Lieutenant Riley’s voice says from behind your right shoulder. “Got a lo’ of info on alpha enhancements, then?”

Brandon’s shocked, offended scent almost drowns out the Lieutenant’s. Almost. You tilt your head before you realize you’re doing it, and catch that hint of something that you’ve been chasing all afternoon, earthy and intriguing. Your mouth waters. You barely stop yourself from biting your lip and tune back into the conversation.

“I wasn’t able to give them an answer today,” you butt in, before Brandon can get too worked up. “I’ll CC you on the email when I have everything.”

“Fine,” Brandon says, glaring daggers at the Lieutenant.

And then the three of you just… stand there.

Behind you, Lieutenant Riley smells amused. “Dismissed.”

Brandon gapes at him. “I beg your pardon?”

“You’re dismissed. Unless you have more to add on the subject.”

Being caught between clashing alphas is not how you thought today would end. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see people look at Lieutenant Riley, then at Brandon, and then visibly decide to wait to exit the building. When you start to inch away, the lieutenant touches just beneath your left shoulder blade with the tips of his fingers. You freeze with a sharp inhale. Brandon looks between the two of you. Then his face settles into a sneer.

“Think hard about what you say next,” Lieutenant Riley ways with almost no inflection. Brandon’s face freezes and goes a little pale. You remember, suddenly, that the man at your back is also called the Ghost. “Because challenging me won’t go well for you. Walk away under your own power.”

The resonance of his voice combines with the way his scent teases your olfactory nerves and sends a shiver through you. You’re suddenly aware of the warmth that’s been building behind your bellybutton all afternoon. You don’t hear the next thing Brandon says. He’s too focused on his own offense to notice your distraction, thank the gods, but -

One of the fingers at your back taps you gently, once, twice. And then you feel the gentlest scrape of a fingernail against your shirt.

“I have to go,” you squeak, taking a step toward the parking lot. To Brandon, you say “I will make sure I email you first thing in the morning.”

You can see Brandon’s jaw working, but no matter how irritated he is, he’s outmatched and he knows it. After a moment, he answers. “See that you do.”

“’Ll walk you,” Lieutenant Riley intones. “Wanna make sure I understand the answer to the Captain’s question.” He turns his back to Brandon and gestures for you to continue walking.

A part of you wants to see what will happen if Brandon answers the obvious insult. It’s not hard to imagine the crunch of his body hitting the pavement, the way the Ghost might growl down and force him to yield. Another, loud part of you needs to not get this wet standing right outside of your office. So you hustle away and try to cool yourself down.

Of course, the Lieutenant is right beside you. You chance a glance up - he’s so tall! - at his face, covered today by a black surgical mask. His brown eyes catch yours and crinkle at the edges as he smiles, but he doesn’t say anything. Just keeps walking with you until you’re standing next to your car.

“Sorry,” he says, looking across the car park. “Weren’t my intention to cause trouble.”

“No,” you say, fidgeting with the edge of your jacket and looking at your keys in your hand. “It’s not your fault, I, um, I told my coworker that lunch was work-related. I guess she told Brandon.”

He nods. “Tha’s fair. Should I tell the Cap’n that lunch was work-related?”

When you look back up, he’s already gazing back at you. There’s just enough light to see his eyes darken as he tips his head up just a bit. He’s scenting you, his effect on you. You feel your face get hot as you look away from him again.

He gives an amused-sounding huff. “Need time to think about it?”

Do you? “No, I… I would be open to discussing an intention of courtship.”

Lieutenant Riley purrs. It’s deep and gravely, but unmistakable for anything else. The sound startles you into meeting his eyes. This time, he holds your gaze and takes a step forward, then another when you back up until you bump into your car. He doesn’t come any closer, but his eyes say that he wants to.

“Skipper wants to meet somewhere open,” he says. “The Spice Garden has a nice outdoor space, if you’re free Saturday.”

You almost say yes, but catch yourself. “I… have to help my friend through his heat this weekend.”

He nods his head, never breaking eye contact. “Next week, then.”

You do a quick calculation in your head. “I can be free tomorrow evening by… seven, as long as things aren’t too… formal.”

“Won’t be formal,” he assures you. “Cap insisted on a gift and formal invitation, but we don’t stand too much on ceremony. Bit unconventional, far as packs go.”

You nod, too fast. “Okay. I… does tomorrow work?”

“If you wanted us tonight, you could have us,” he answers, eyes crinkling again. He takes a step back, looking at the box in your hand, then back into your eyes. “Tomorrow then. Enjoy the cake.”

[queen-of-the-avengers]

After So Long

Pairing: Mafia!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.7k

Warnings: angst

Summary: You're forced to go back to the one place you tried to hard to get away from. You're forced to contront the memories you left behind.

Between Love and Hate Masterlist

Squares Filled: protection (2023) for @buckybarnesbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

Then

It seemed like wherever Bucky went, Steve and Sam followed. You thought it’d be nice to go shopping at your local mall with Bucky since he’d been so busy with work. You put on something cute to wear and did your hair only to feel like you’re being followed the whole time. You tried to ignore them but it was hard when you saw their black clothes in every corner.

“Does this look cute?” you asked and held up a shirt.

“On me or you?” Bucky joked.

“Ha-ha, very funny. Wait, it might look good on you.”

Bucky smiled and took the shirt while you moved to a different section of the store, the dresses. He didn’t mind holding the things you wanted to get. He’d do it forever if he knew this made you happy. It does. You liked shopping. Just not with grown men following you.

“Do they have to be here?” you sighed as you looked at the dresses.

“It’s a precaution, pisică.”

You liked the little nicknames he gave you, especially in his native tongue, Romanian.

“Because of your job?” Bucky nodded. “When are you gonna tell me what you do?”

“I’d rather stay in our little bubble a little while longer, if possible.”

“Fine, but you will have to tell me eventually.” Bucky didn’t respond to that. Once you were done with the dresses, you moved to the jewelry section. The prices in this store were outrageous and you turned to Bucky with a frown. “Are you sure we should keep shopping here? I’ve already spent enough of your money.”

“Pisică, I make more money in an hour than the one hundred grand you’re going to spend.”

“You’re spoiling me,” you grinned.

Bucky pulled you into him and placed his hands on your ass, not caring if anyone saw.

“You’re my girl. Of course, I will.”

He leaned down and kissed you and your heart swelled in happiness.

Now

You always knew Bucky would find you but you didn’t know when or where it’d happen. He truly didn’t know where you were for the first six months you were gone. After you enrolled in college, he found you. In order to apply for it, you had to use your real name which Sam caught when he was looking for you online.

Despite what you may think of him, he really does love you. He just has a weird way of showing it.

Bucky has left his men behind where you crashed your car at while his driver takes you to one of his mansions. You’ve been to almost all of them because he used to take you all around the country for the hell of it. You have a room in every single one of them.

“Pisică--”

“Don’t call me that,” you snap and look at him.

“It took a long time to find you. I thought you had dropped off the face of the Earth.”

“Bite me.”

“Don’t tempt me,” he smirks. He loses it when he thinks about what to ask next. “Why did you run?”

You look at him with wide eyes and a parted mouth. “Did you really just ask me that? You’re a murderer.”

“Well, that depends on how to look at it.”

“There’s no looking at it differently. You kill people. That’s murder.”

Bucky decides to change the topic because he’s not gonna get far with you accusing him of things he’s done.

“Remember how we met?” It’s incredible how this man can jump from one topic to the next. “I do. I even remember the kiss we shared. Care to hear it from my perspective?”

“Not really?”

He tells you the story anyway as if you weren't there to begin with.

Bucky met up with several potential business partners that he thought would benefit him and his company. He’s one of the biggest mafia bosses this country has ever seen and having allies is much better than having enemies. He controls the weapons market, the communication sector, and most of the casinos across the country. These men would give him access to most of the drug trading posts if they’d only get their heads out of their asses and agree to his terms.

He doesn’t let the storm outside prevent him from doing business which is why he took this little meeting to one of the most expensive and high-end restaurants in town. The owner knows him and always gives him a good deal.

“Ma’am! You can’t just run in here!”

Bucky looks up and locks eyes with the most gorgeous woman he has ever seen before. Granted, she’s soaking wet from the rain outside. She looks fearful as if she’s running from someone. For some reason, Bucky would kill anyone who ever made her feel unsafe, and he doesn’t even know her.

She looks back outside and runs further into the restaurant, ignoring the calls from the hostess. She runs right over to him and interrupts the meeting he carefully set up without a care in the world. There’s panic in her eyes. She’s afraid. If only she knew who he was.

“I’m so sorry. Please play along.”

A man comes into the restaurant just as soaked as she is but Bucky doesn’t have time to react. She sits on his lap and kisses him desperately. He wraps an arm around her waist to keep her from falling off his lap and kisses her back. She is getting his nice suit wet but he doesn’t care. This kiss not only screams ‘I’m desperate’ but it screams ‘I need help’. The men Bucky is with chuckle but he tunes them out.

“Sir!”

Bucky can only assume the man had left the restaurant. His mysterious lover tries to pull away from him but he pulls her in closer and continues to kiss her. Only when he is satisfied does he finally let her go. She turns to check that the man isn’t there anymore and visually relaxes.

“I am so sorry.”

“Ex-boyfriend?”

“Yeah. He wouldn’t let me leave and I only managed to get away from him.” something comes over her face and she backs away in embarrassment. “God, that was so rude of me. I don’t know you. Thank you for that. Again, I’m really sorry I interrupted your dinner.”

She leaves the table and checks to make sure her ex isn’t outside looking for her. Once she feels she’s safe, she runs back outside into the pouring rain. Bucky clears his throat and takes out his phone so he can call one of his trusted men. He has Sam working on something in another state so Steve is who he calls.

“Boss?”

“Did you see her run out?”

“Yes.”

“Follow her. Find out about the boyfriend.”

“Yes, sir.”

Bucky gets off the phone and returns to his meeting like nothing happened.

“You came in there dripping wet. You came over to me and kissed me. Do you remember that kiss? How desperate you were for it?” During his storytelling, Bucky pulled you closer to him and slid his hand in your hair. His hand is so big that he can cup the side of your head and still run his thumb over your bottom lip. “Do you remember the taste of my lips on yours?”

“I will never kiss you again much less do anything more than that.”

You push him away and he smirks in amusement. He keeps his hands to himself for the rest of the ride. His mansion is like the one in New York just with more acres. He has the ultimate dream house fit with anything you can think of. Pools, spas, theaters, sports courts, and a ton more.

You dread coming back here not because it reminds you of Bucky but because it reminds you of the good times you had with him. The times from before you knew what he did for work.

You’re escorted inside his mansion and taken to a room with Steve. It’s like you’re being placed on time out because Steve stands by the door as if he isn’t allowed to let you leave.

“Ai grijă la ea, e foarte drăguță, dar e o fire plină de luptă. Ea nu iese din casă.”

Watch out for her, she’s real pretty but she’s a feisty one. She doesn’t leave the house.

Bucky keeps eye contact with you the whole time before leaving the room. Your blood boils.

“Ești un laș care se ascunde în spatele unei armate de oameni!”

You’re a coward who hides behind an army of men!

Bucky doesn’t bat an eye at your words. He’s the one who taught you Romanian, now you’re using it against him.

“I’m leaving,” you say to Steve and storm to the door.

Steve lets you out of the room knowing there are guards posted at every door to prevent you from leaving the mansion. Sam stands at the front door so he must be done cleaning the crash of your car. 

“Sorry, you can’t leave. Bosses’ order,” Sam says and stops you from leaving.

Instead of standing here arguing with him, you figured you get this over with. Your room hasn’t been touched since you left, and you can only assume your other rooms in the other mansions haven’t been touched either. This room is filled with so many good memories of you and Bucky. You hate that you’re looking at them now with such disdain.

Bucky was never one for pictures so the ones he did take were inappropriate to post anywhere. He thought it was funny to print them out and frame them for your room to always remind you who you belong to. Maybe you still do. Maybe you don’t. You’re not sure of how you feel anymore.

It hurts to look at them because you still love him. You’re so damn in love with him and it hurts because you thought you’d never love a murderer.

Bucky returns to the house hours later, well into the night. He finds you asleep in your own bed with dried tears on your cheeks. He looks at the pictures on the dresser and yanks his tie off angrily. He makes sure to be quiet as he walks over to you.

“I love you so much,” he whispers.

He kisses your forehead before leaving your room. God, he wishes things were different. He hates seeing you in pain.

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[peppermintquartz]

When he hears that Tommy has to work on Christmas Eve, Buck tries not to pout about it at first, and then decides, heck it, if I can't sulk about my boyfriend not being able to spend Christmas Eve with me, when can I sulk? So he weaponizes his big blue eyes and unleashes the full force of his pout, sticking out the lower lip and - by dint of some emotional effort - brings some tears to his eyes.

"Oh no, you don't do that to me now," Tommy says, raising a finger and tilting his head in that special way he does to ward off Buck at his most manipulative. He's about 40-60 when it comes to the win-loss ratio on that technique.

Buck sighs and wrinkles his nose. "I was planning on a nice dinner here at home. Tree. Nog. Roast beast."

Reaching out, Tommy ruffles Buck's curls and smiles. "At least we can decorate the tree together before then."

"They better be paying you extra for taking the shift for Christmas Eve night."

"Yeah, they do. It'll be a nice contribution to our honeymoon fund." Tommy smiles at Buck, whose stomach does a happy little flip. Technically, neither of them have popped the question, but they already know the answer is yes, and so they have already set up a whole system to allocate their money. They'll be ring shopping next week, to take advantage of Christmas sales, and just the thought of it makes Buck warm all over.

Even so, he can be melodramatic for his own entertainment. Flopping back in his chair, he cups his right cheek, adopts a pensive stare out the window, and sighs extravagantly. "I do wonder what could possibly be so important as to warrant my handsome, charming, incredible and sexy firefighter pilot boyfriend to abandon me on the most festive night of the year?"

"You know. The usual."

Wait. Tommy sounds shifty. He's usually very honest, so him trying to hide something is... off. Buck sits up straight. "Tommy...?"

"I'm serious. The usual." Tommy's ears are flushed dark pink. He's a horrendous liar.

Buck narrows his eyes, and then raises an eyebrow.

"Look, I can't tell you. I genuinely cannot. But, uh, it's a cool thing, an international thing, and it's really one of the best things I've ever done and love doing as a pilot."

"Wow," Buck murmurs. "You don't usually talk like that about your job."

"It's just a job. Most of the time. Sometimes I have to fly into hurricanes."

"No hurricanes this year," says Buck with a resolute nod. "Santa would not like flying through one. You'd have to provide Santa with air support."

"He's done it before though. The reindeer know what to do better than us," Tommy mutters absently, and then he freezes.

Buck freezes also. He stares at his boyfriend. "Tommy?"

"Hmm?" Tommy pretends he isn't terrified.

"Are you flying with... Santa... on Christmas Eve?"

"What? Hahahah of course not, ahahaha. No." But the rictus on Tommy's face tells a different story, as do the few beads of sweat that have just materialized.

Buck's jaw drops. He whispers, "You are flying with Santa!" His eyes go wide with delighted revelation. "Santa's real?"

"Shhh! No one outside of the escort party is supposed to know. And, not flying with, just providing air support to cover for him so he doesn't show on the scanners. And don't tell anyone!"

Buck mimes zipping his mouth and locking it and throwing away the key. Then he 'unzips' his lips. "I can't bear it," he declares. "You are way too cool and I need to have sex with you right now."

"What?" Tommy snorts, and then shakes his head in disbelief. "Evan, you're not being serious."

"Like a lightning strike." Buck stands, fluttering his lashes and pouting again.

Tommy doesn't fight it this time.

[artificialbreezy]

Matt as a twin dad has been planted in my head so, dad omens is back!!

disclaimer: all photos found on pinterest, none of them are mine. this is simply a work of fiction, none of this has happened. ever.

so many thoughts under the cut ◡̈

started as a simple kind of moment tbh

a nice date, he just got home. he’s gonna be home for a while, no touring. what better way to tell Matty you’re ready.

“Matty, i love our little life and our fur babies but i think im ready to try for a real baby.”

you didn’t expect the first try to work tbh

and you really didn’t expect such an early positive test

and you really don’t expect two babies

Matt though? he was so excited

he gets to have TWO BABIES?!??

he’s texting the omens group chat the moment at appointments done

“YOU BITCHES ARENT GONNA BELIEVE THIS!!! THERES TWO LITTLE DUDES IN THERE!!!”

thus the planning begins

he’s never leaving you alone, he won’t let you mom by yourself. he WILL be an active dad

and when he finds out they’re both girls??? oh brother is fucked

he’s crying so so hard

“honey we need to pick another name, we only had one planned for each one.”

you settle on “Mira Jean Dierkes and Meadow Brooke Dierkes”

whenever he talks to them, “why hello my sweet M&M’s how are we feeling today?”

he was really excited for a lotr nursery but when you guys settled on the names he said no way, we have to do a subtle little candy land theme

Davis comes to paint the cute little candies above each of their cribs

Noah is Meadow’s godfather and Lana is Meadow’s godmother

Folio is Mira’s godfather and Davis is Mira’s “godparent bc Folio fucking took the godfather name”

you decide on a c-section with your obgyn, she makes sure to explain you can have natural birth after this one but it’s not fully recommended.

“don’t worry, we only wanted two and well we got them”

the birth was smooth, Matt was holding your hand the whole time

he cried more than he’d ever tell the guys

Noah, Davis, Folio and Lana all camped out in the hospital waiting room

with gifts

and balloons

and flowers

and Lana made a huge goody bag for just you

Matt and you swear to never dress the girls identical, you refuse to let either of them feel unseen

he carries both car seats to the car on the way out, helps you into the car, helps you to the front door, helps you straight to bed and then he’ll join you and his little ones

as they’re getting older and their personalities are coming in

you can definitely tell that Mira is just like her dad, has so much interest in his work and his shows and his movies and his music and she just loves her dad.

“you’re my little shadow, aren’t you Mira?”

and Meadow? loves her mama, loves sitting with her while she crochets and loves sitting with her while she reads and Meadow has her own little book, loves being with mama.

Mira looks like her mama though

and Meadow is the copy paste of Matt

buys them valentine’s day gifts

takes them each on one on one daddy/daughter days

and group days

Matt likes to joke with them too once they’re 4-5, purposely mixed up their names

“Mira here is your peanut butter and jelly with no crust and extra jelly.”

“Meadow here is your ham and cheese, hold the cheese.”

and he’s just chuckle a little when he sees them switch plates

ugly cries on the first day of school

every year tbh

high school about takes him out

what do you mean they’re gonna date soon???

what do you mean they’re gonna drive soon???

what do you mean they only have 4 years left???

Mira would rather skip out on the dances but Meadow begs and pleads her sister every time

so now you’re dress shopping AND suit shopping

“i’ll go Dow, but i am NOT wearing a dress.”

“that’s fine, i think you and J- “

“MEADOW SHUT IT.”

Matt and you just look at each other, and know. Mira is seeing someone.

and you guys don’t know much on it, until picture time before the dance comes around and you see the oldest Ruffilo child and Mira closer than usual and that’s when Matt calms himself

“god at least it’s his kid, could’ve been way worse.”

“i mean, do you think Mira was really just picking a pick shirt for nothing?” Meadow would bring up

“they had to match her suit to her dress.”

Nick comes up and talks about it later, wondering how much you two knew versus them.

everyone’s just happy they’re happy

they’d stay together throughout high school, finally coming clean end of freshman year

they decide a college together (with Meadow picking a college not far from her sister)

and suddenly the house is empty and Matt’s standing in the door way of the girls’ area of the house holding their baby book

“can’t believe they’re all grown up, honey.”

“we did good Matty.”

[jqmalikhsgib]

quest

seven

warning: mentions of sexual relationships

when you parked your car at the coffee shop emily told you to meet aaron your heart pounded. you had no idea what was coming. all you knew was he was upset.

he had every right to be. you kept his kids from him. you didn’t even let him explain what emily saw. come to think of it, you didn’t even let emily explain.

as soon as you heard her utter the words ‘i saw hotch and haley in his office’ you ended the call. you couldn’t hear anymore. but knowing what you do now, you felt you deserved everything coming to you.

spotting aaron sitting at a table you take a deep breath and head inside. you sit right across from him and give him a small smile.

aaron hands you a cup. “decaf still, right?”

you hum as you take a sip. “thank you.”

the two of you sat in silence for a minute. it felt longer though. you missed him. everything about aaron you missed. you missed the way he smelled, his beautiful smile, the way he made you laugh, the way he listened. you missed his touch.

his touch,

god did you miss the way aaron touched you. rather it would be as simple as holding your hand or the way he would hold you when you fucked.

aaron could be a gentle lover. he would whisper sweet nothings in your ear as he made love to you. tell you how beautiful you were and how good you were to him.

but he was also rough! if he got a little jealous or you two argued about something so minor, he’d fuck you like you meant absolutely nothing to him! and you loved it.

you tried not to think too much about it, but you noticed he has been working out. his muscles were bulging more than before.

you also noticed he still wore his wedding band. something you felt a sense of pride in. despite being divorced he still showed everyone he was taken. even if it weren’t true.

you did the same. you loved aaron. knowing you could never move on from the man that gave you the best years of your life and the three, four babies you adored! nothing would ever change that. if wearing the ring meant you would never be with anyone else again, you were okay with that.

“should we start?”

you didn’t know what to say. just humming as he cleared his throat.

“i made a promise to you i would love you unconditionally. i married you because i meant every single word. and i would never intentionally hurt the woman i love. i broke that vow by having an emotional affair with my ex wife. i hugged her for too long, held her hand, kissed her cheek, even cuddled her from time to time. but i never went as far as sleeping with her. and i wouldn’t have blamed you if you wanted to divorce me after knowing the truth. instead you left. part of me kinda happy you did. foyet was after me and my family. it’s one of the reasons why haley and i reconnected. i needed him to see he could never break this family up. fortunately he didn’t know about you,”

“what do you mean?”

“i made sure the team kept you hidden from the moment we met. i didn’t need anyone to know i had remarried. if i could go back i would have done the same with haley.”

you wanted to hold his hand. you knew he was still grieving. haley was his first everything. completely losing her destroyed him. on top of losing you all in the span of a few months apart. he went through hell for the longest.

“after foyet died i tried finding you. i even tried to get penelope to trace you. she declined. i was very pissed i almost fired her. but she wanted to protect you. i couldn’t be mad at that,”

“aaron, im sorry. i—i thought with me out of the picture you’d be better off. i wanted you to be happy. i knew it would have been a hard decision if i stayed. i didn’t want you to choose me because i was pregnant. i wanted you to choose me because you loved me.”

“they’re my kids too yn! mine! you left knowing this. knowing that you were carrying our babies. i didn’t get to be there for them. i didn’t get to hold you hand while you gave birth, wake up all hours of the morning to feed them or change them, watch them start to crawl, watch them walk for the first time, i miss two birthdays yn!! two. you made that decision for me. you made the decision to leave and take our children with you. i—knowing this, finding this out from jj, i didn’t know how to feel.”

you turned your head guilty. you couldn’t look him in the eyes. you knew as soon as you did the tears would just come pouring out.

the two of you stayed silent for awhile. aaron clears his throat before speaking.

“i promised jack i would bring you home. please don’t break his heart again.” aaron states. he leaves money on the table before leaving you alone with your thoughts.

when you arrived at your sister house you sigh. all you wanted to do was hug your babies. you missed them and needed a little comfort right now.

the moment you saw them playing with their cousins you smiled. they were the cutest. you always wanted them to know their older cousins.

“mamma!” izzy was the first to spot you. she waddles her way towards you.

“izzy!” you copied her.

“miss mamma.” she smiles at you.

“miss you too baby. you and your siblings.”

“up, mummy!” aurora raises her arms.

you gently pick her up. you missed when you use to be able to carry all three of them at the same time. now they were bigger and a lot heavier. you could only pick them up in twos.

you kiss aurora’s cheek as you son walks over to you. he pulls on your shirt. you bend down to his level and set your other two babies down.

“hows my shy boy?”

he shrugs his shoulders. you frown. you really wished he was a little more outgoing. but you couldn’t blame him. you were just as shy growing up. you still are.

you kiss theo’s cheek gently. “mama missed all three of her babies.” you hug your kids tightly. not too tight. but enough.

“mama! you being silly.” isabella laughs.

“oh, am i?!” you start to tickle them. she giggles uncontrollably. you laugh before kissing them on the forehead.

“why don’t you go play with your cousins while i talk to your aunt, okay?”

your three mini me’s walk over to their cousins as you walk towards your sister.

“so, how’d it go?”

you sigh. “as good as it could. he wants me to move back home.”

“you have a life here though. he can’t expect you to pack your bags and move three two year olds!”

“i don’t know abby. i did take two years away from him and the triplets. plus i have a son back home who misses me.”

“well are you two gonna at least work your shit out? because if not then what?”

you shrug. “i gotta at least try, yeah? you didn’t see abby! we both still have our wedding bands on. legally we’re divorced but mentally and emotionally we’re still married. i have to fight for my marriage.”

“i understand little sister. i just worry. with everything that just happened i don’t want you to spiral. plus, i just got you back. i don’t want you to leave.” abigale pouts.

“i know. but ill be back to visit!”

“promise?”

“swear it.”

you two continue to talk. catching up on everything you missed before you headed out to figure out your move.

aaron had came by the next morning to help you pack and to meet the kids for the first time. he was nervous and excited all in one.

he knew what it was like to raise one child for nine years. now he was transitioning from one to four. he still couldn’t believe it.

he was a father of four. four beautiful kids who he adored. he already loved his babies. he couldn’t wait to raise them with you. and hopefully work your shit out to have more in the future.

when he arrived you weren’t shocked at all he had went shopping. he spoiled jack so much you just knew he’d spoil your other three.

“hi.”

“hey. come in! the kids are in their pen.” you opened the door wider to allow him inside. aaron smiles as he walks to the living room.

he got a bit of a glimpse of them the other day. seeing them face to face like this made him gasped. all three, beautiful as ever. you two made the cutest little babies.

“izzy, theo, roe! id like you to meet someone.” the three of them look up at their mom and sees a tall man. they had no idea who he was but he looked friendly.

“who’s that mamma?” izzy was the first to ask.

“remember how i told you daddy was off being a super hero and catching the bad guys? how he’d be back to take us home? well, he’s back. and he’s right there.”

“papa?” theo questioned.

aaron bends down. “that’s right! im your dad little buddy.”

“daddy!” izzy walked over to aaron and hugs him. aaron chuckled as he holds his daughter.

“love daddy.” aurora states.

aaron wanted to shed tears in that moment. but he held himself together and hugged all three of his kids as they walk over to him.

“goin home to brudder?” theodore asked.

“yeah. going home to brother.”

slow burn but not too slow because i don’t have the time for the shit! i want them together!!!!!

but how did you guys like this part? i think it’s cute! had to put the babies in there. they’re adorable

peep aaron already planning to have more kids with the reader!!

if you wanna be added or unadded to the taglist please let me know

taglist:

@ivebeenthearchersstuff @shergoretzxx @slut4ethan @rosiehale23 @madesavage05 @whotfskai

[sourrpatched]

06. 2 dumb b*tches saying EXACTLYYYY (1.1k wdc)

CW for this chapter; a weird man making inappropriate comments at y/n but he is handled (reading isn’t necessary)

The clock continued clicking and though you only had one hour left of your shift, it felt like an eternity. You had just dealt with a very annoying customer who had continued to complain about how the coffee wasn’t as good as it used to be and how you must’ve done something wrong.

Just one more hour

You told yourself as you wiped down the counter trying to make time pass by faster. The bell rang signaling a customer entering the store.

“Hello, Welcome to Little Coffee Shop.” You greeted with a decent smile. This time around it happened to be a customer you were quite familiar with, and not in a good way.

Fuck my life.

“Hey y/n, got any plans today?” The man said without sparing a second. This man happened to be a frequent customer, one who hardly enjoyed coffee and mostly enjoyed eyeing you. His name wasn’t very important as he had told you the last time he had came in. You cringed at the memory.

“Name isn’t important baby, unless you want my last one.” You had almost gagged the second he said it. What kind of fourty year old spent all of his time trying to flirt with younger women? I mean technically you were of age, but mentally you still felt stuck in your teen years.

You hated how cocky his smile looked almost as if he genuinely thought there could be something between you both. There was also the way he would talk down on you as if you were too stupid to know anything. And of course you couldn’t forget the inappropriate remarks he would make of your appearance.

Just one more hour.

“Could I get you anything, sir?” You avoided contact as you tried to take down his order.

“Sir huh?” He smirked once again before eyeing you. “Didn’t know that was your thing, I’ll take my usual.”

“I’m sorry, If you could please repeat your usual, i’m not familiar with your order.” You said blankly.

“I should’ve known, pretty girls don’t have the best working brains after all. Don’t worry I like them better that way.” God could he get any fucking worse.

“I don’t think it’s appropriate to be speaking that way.”

A sudden voice sounded from behind him. You hadn’t even noticed another person entering the building.

“I don’t think she minds it.” The old man had replied. You definitely more than minded it, if there was any way possible that you could murder the man in front of you, you would have already done it.

“Then you might actually be the one with the rotten brain.” It’s with that comment that you fully take in the situation and the man in front of you. He had tanned skin and beauty marks on his face. He’s pretty handsome you had thought before the silence was broken.

“Excuse me?”

“You’re excused, I would leave before you make matters worse, I already reported you for harassment to the cops. They should be on their way soon.” The boy had said with a smile.

At that the older man had left angrily grabbing his things. You hope that’s the last time you will ever have to see his face.

“God, I cannot stand entitled men.” The boy had remarked before stepping up to the counter. “Could I get a strawberry donut please?”

It truly felt like whiplash the way he had went from such a serious tone to such a calm one.

“Sure thing, will that be all?”

“Ah give me a quick second.” He took his phone out of his pocket then brought it up to his ear. “Hey Minjeong, I just got here. Yeah did you want me to order for you? Hmm okay then, you can stop yelling hoe I already know. K bye bye.” You had held back a laugh at the change in his attitude.

“A small Americano and that should be all.” You had charged him and started making his drink while he stood next to the counter waiting for his order to be ready.

“Ah this song is my favorite.” He said to nobody in particular. At his comment you had noticed the song playing.

Candy by Baekhyun, one of the best songs he has ever released. “Do you listen to Baekhyun?” You made small talk as you continued to make his order.

“Do I listen to Baekhyun? He’s the father to my children.” He remarked playfully.

“Don’t be weird Donghyuck.” It must’ve really been a tiring day cause you once again failed to notice the presence of a customer. This time though you knew exactly who she was.

“Kim Minjeong?” You said, the pair turning to look in your direction.

“Yes?” She had said slowly, slightly confused by your outburst.

“I’m L/N Y/N. I’m friends with Jimin!”

“Oh! You’re Y/N?” She said now recognizing you. “I was trying to see where I knew you from, now I know.” She looked over at her friend who now wore her previous expression. “Oh Y/N this is Donghyuck. Donghyuck this is Y/N.”

“Nice meeting you.” You said handing him his drink.

“I get that a lot.”

“God Hyuck shut up don’t you know any normal ways to socialize.” Minjeong said with a scowl.

“What, we were just talking about Baekhyun she knows me well enough now.” He said innocently.

“Don’t tell me he was bothering you about him, it’s his favorite thing to do besides playing video games all night and then sleeping through his morning classes.” Minjeong said side eyeing him.

“It’s really no problem he’s not actually that bad, though we almost just had to fight over Baekhyun.”

“Wow so you’re a fan too. That’s great actually, our friends have been wanting to go to his concert this saturday you should definitely tag along!” Your face completely lit up at her invitation.

“If it’s not an issue I would love to go!” You said almost too quickly.

“It’s really not a problem at all, invite your friends too if you want.” She said obviously implying she wanted Jimin to be there too.

“Alright I will.”

“Sadly we do have to get going, I only stopped by to get a strawberry donut but I fear our friend could be coming in at any minute. We will see you there right?” Donghyuck had said referring to the concert.

“Of course, thank you for everything.”

“It’s no problem, if you need my number you can ask Jimin for it.” Minjeong commented as her and donghyuck began walking away.

“Alright, Have a great day.”

“You too Y/N!” They both said as they walked out of the shop.

You hadn’t been so happy about the invitation you hadn’t even thought to ask what friend of theirs it was who worked here.

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Author’s note ➼ This should be the last written chapter for a good little while cause i don’t wanna be annoying with written chapters! anyway much appreciation to everyone who enjoys this smau and tysm for getting it to like 200 likes i’m shocked so many of u actually enjoy it! 🥹💕

taglist: @yyangj3lly @junviadinho @pnkified @mystverse @daegalfangirl @girlz4jaem @222brainrot @multifandomania @hamjwis

[saphstories]

Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic

A ShadowxAurora One Shot

Shadow never meant to keep it. With the limited space in his apartment, a piano wasn't exactly practical. But he'd seen it sitting on the street while on a run, a pathetic little spinet that apparently wasn't worth the effort for repair according to the owner, so it sat in wait for the dump truck.

Omega thought he was nuts when Shadow had used Chaos Control to transport the piano into the apartment, and perhaps he was. The instrument had definitely seen better days, and it would take more than a simple tune up to get it in pristine condition again.

That didn't stop Shadow from shoving the spinet against the wall between his mattress and the front door and then going out to purchase the necessary items for piano repairs.

The spinet became Shadow's passion project over the next several weeks. Any spare moment between his mercenary work with Omega and dates with Aurora, Shadow could be found with the spinet piano, painstakingly doting over the instrument to set it to rights again.

"You never told me you can fix instruments." Aurora had noted once, sitting on the little bench with her legs swinging while half of Shadow's body was inside the back of the spinet.

"Never came up." Shadow had grunted.

"Where'd you learn?" She'd pressed.

Shadow had shrugged. "I did a lot of things while off world, Light. Sometimes I was asked to fix things, and music is universal." Aurora had accepted that answer, and Shadow minutely relaxed.

No way he was EVER going to tell her that some aristocrat across the galaxy had taken fancy to him and tried to get his attention by breaking her piano, just so he'd come and fix it. It was the fastest he'd ever fled a planet. Omega still hadn't let him live it down.

The plan for the spinet once he'd finished repairs was simple enough: take it to the resale shop and get a decent sum of cash for it. He'd contacted the shop, gotten a good offer, and was set to deliver and receive his rings, but when he arrived and saw the buyer...a mother and son duo, the latter whom was whining about how much he HATED piano lessons and was currently and carelessly swinging a baseball bat around in his fit....Shadow took his piano and left.

No way was Shadow going to let all his hard work repairing his baby go to waste on some ungrateful brat that lacked basic appreciation. So, the little spinet piano became a permanent fixture in his apartment.

Shadow had never considered himself a musician of any sort. He was a warrior, a mercenary, the Ultimate Lifeform, a guardian. Music...required a certain softness that Shadow, with all his broken pieces and jagged edges, simply did not possess. But, somehow, that didn't matter. Sitting at his little spinet, gingerly filling his apartment with the soft tones of the classics centered him with a kind of peace he rarely ever achieved...with one exception. When he played, Shadow could pretend that was all there was. Just him and his spinet, creating something beautiful together. It was almost magical, if he believed in such a thing.

Shadow huffed a quiet chuckle, gently resting his hand atop the keys but not pressing down, his thoughts drifting towards the other almost-magical thing in his life. Honestly, if it magic was a thing, Shadow could believe it, because of her. The way she pranced through life, with such light and arms wide open, eager and excited for whatever came her way...could anything else but magical describe his precious Light?

Almost without his command, his fingers gently drifted across the spinet's keys, a delicate melody that swirled and danced through the air. Shadow sighed.

"Though I tried before to tell her

Of the feelings I have for her

In my heart.

Every time that I come near her

I just lose my nerve as I've done

From the start."

How many times has Shadow looked into those emerald eyes, seen that smile, and choked? It was three simple words, why was it so difficult? He's made peace with the past, hasn't he?

"Every little thing she does is magic

Everything she does just turns me on.

Even though my life before was tragic

Now I know my love for her goes on."

A sniffle behind him had Shadow whirling around, Chaos Spear halfway formed in his hand and a snarl on his muzzle, when those same piercing emerald eyes damp with tears stopped him dead. Shadow gulped, his ears flattening against his head. Damn. How long had she- Shadow made get up, averting his eyes as embarrassment colored his cheeks rosy red.

And then she's right there, pushing him back down on the bench with pleas of "Please don't stop, don't mind me-," and she's still looking at him with those eyes, pleading and wet, her body pressed tight against his side, lips protruding in the most pitiful pout...

Chaos, he was screwed, wasn't he?

Shadow sighed and tapped her nose with his finger. "You will say nothing to anyone about this." He commanded, and tried to ignore how distracting that beaming smile was in order to return to the piano. He gulped, frozen with his fingers in position. He knew his voice was not what anyone would call gifted, hers was so much better, and he chanced a glance down to his shoulder where she'd laid her head. She smiled at him again, eager and encouraging, and Shadow gulped and resumed playing.

"Do I have to tell the story

Of a thousand rainy days

SInce we first met?

It's a big enough umbrella

But it's always me

That ends up getting wet.

Every little thing she does is magic

Everything she does just turns me on.

Even though my life before was tragic

Now I know my love for her goes on."

Shadow rested his cheek against the top of her head, mindful of the short grouping of quills that acted as bangs, closing his eyes momentarily and just breathing.

"I resolve to call her up

A thousand times a day

And ask her if she'll marry me

In some old fashioned way.

But my silent fears have gripped me

Long before I reach the phone.

Long before my tongue has tripped me

Must I always be alone?"

Her arms squeezed him gently, reassuringly, around his middle, and he pressed a kiss to her head in response, smiling at the growing damp spot on his shoulder.

"Every little thing she does is magic,

Everything she does just turns me on.

Even though my life before was tragic

Now I know my love for her goes on,"

Shadow dropped one hand from the piano and cupped Aurora's cheek, tilting her chin up to look into her eyes, shining with light and joy, and he knew his words wouldn't fail him this time. He smiled at her and leaned his forehead on hers.

"Every little thing you do is magic

Everything you do just turns me on.

Even though my life before was tragic

Know that my love for you goes on."

Shadow ended the song with a soft kiss to her lips, sealing his declaration of devotion with all the love and passion and dedication he had in his heart in the best way he knew how. Words always failed him, but somehow, in this moment, it didn't matter. Aurora wept through his kiss, and he smiled as they parted, a quirk of his mouth so gentle and loving that only she would ever get to see it.

Aurora pounced on him a single moment later, using her own gift of speed to press kiss after kiss on his lips, face, head, everywhere she could reach, glowing so brightly and joyfully exclaiming "I love you"s between kisses. Shadow briefly wondered how she wasn't suffocating before dismissing the thought and basking in their shared love, trading her kisses and words with ones of his own. It didn't matter anyway.

Every little thing she did was magic, after all.

[suzukiblu]

is there a way to read all of "JayKon soulmates, TimKon datemates, and the wrong Superboy." in one spot? going through the tag it's all jumbled, and it's one of my favorite fics of yours

Thank you! I like that one, I'm really pleased with how it's been coming out. ❤

Honestly, there is not an "all in one place" version of it, though, so have this read-more that will fix that problem for you, friend. This is the whole WIP so far (barring, like, some out-of-order bits that have not yet been woven into the larger whole, haha).

.

There's a couple of ways to ID a soulmate, but the traditional–and usual–one is a kiss. Basically any exchange of bodily fluids will do it, of course, but most people kiss way before they get around to fucking bareback and a kiss is also definitely less likely to result in hepatitis than swapping blood with strangers. And, like, it's also more romantic and that tends to appeal to people more even when the involved soulmates aren't actually romantic. It's way easier to laugh off that one time you slipped your destined BFF tongue than it is to explain a bloodborne illness to your GP. 

So naturally, Jason finds out who his soulmate is by accidentally bleeding all over the guy in the middle of a random stupid throwdown with supervillains in San Francisco.

Also, naturally said guy is Tim's boyfriend who still justifiably hates Jason's ass for all the fucked-up shit he's done and said to Tim. 

Jason is pretty sure this would count as another reason for Superboy to hate his ass, except the one mercy in this situation is that Superboy was unconscious for their accidental blood-swap, so he at least doesn't know they're soulmates. 

The lucky bastard.

Fuck everything, Jason thinks, and then resolves to never think about it again. Which he doesn't, because even having a thought around Bruce is basically the same thing as handing the bastard a signed confession. 

It sucks, admittedly? Like, Jason's not gonna pretend it doesn't suck. He didn't ever think he'd get a coffee shop meet-cute with his soulmate, assuming he had enough of a soul left to actually have one, but he'd at least expected to get somebody who wasn't already dating the brother he's treated worst and who did not, ideally, hate his guts. 

Or who at least hated his guts in a sexy way that could result in a nice enemies-with-benefits situation to spice up his sex life and maybe hopefully one day evolve into . . . he doesn't know, frenemies-with-benefits? Or something? 

Superboy is not gonna be up for cheating on his boyfriend with said boyfriend's adoptive brother, Jason is very damn sure. For one thing, if he was, Jason wouldn't want to fuck him anyway, much less be his soulmate. Jason is a murderer and a bastard but he is also a ride or die, okay, and he doesn't give a shit what the universe says, there is no damn way that he'd accept a soulmate like that. 

Also, like, since the accidental blood-swap went down, now when they get close enough there's an empathy bond going and Jason can absolutely feel how fucking besotted Superboy is by every little thing Tim does and says and just is. 

And he can also feel how much the guy hates him. 

Jason has never had better control of his pit rage than since realizing that if Superboy ever felt it, it'd be absolutely undeniably obvious what it was and where it was coming from. 

It is fucking amazing what a desperate person can get a handle on. Like, really. 

Jason went to fucking therapy for this shit. It sucks and he hates it and he wants to burn down the whole stupid office every time, but he's still going every week because fuck forbid he lose control enough that somebody realize something is up. 

Jason's self-control is not helped by the fact that Superboy has his own anger issues, but it's not like they get all that close to each other all that often anyway. He very rarely has to worry about Superboy picking up on anything from him. Mostly he just has to worry about not being any worse to Tim than he already has been and making excuses to avoid any situation that Superboy might theoretically pop up in. He has absolutely no designs on fucking up Tim's relationship. Ever. 

He guesses he and Superboy could have a platonic bond, admittedly. Like, that's possible.

Except Superboy constantly insists on wearing a painted-on bodysuit and studded black leather and strappy belts and looking like a porn star parody of a superhero, along with regularly smirking like a cocky asshole who just so happens to be the second coming of sin, and Jason has a very difficult time not finding all of that just unspeakably hot, so that seems unlikely. 

So yeah, Jason's definitely not telling anyone that they're soulmates. Possibly ever. At least not as long as Superboy and Tim are still into each other and in undeniably perfect romantic love, anyway. 

It's not like Jason's waiting for them to break up or something, or for the probably likelier but much more upsetting option that is Tim fucking dying. He's a bastard, again, but he's not that kind of a bastard.

He really hopes this is just one of those bullshit bonds that don't actually become relevant until the involved bondmates are, like, octogenarians or whatever. Which is not something Jason would've ever expected to want from his soulmate, but Jason also did not ever expect his soulmate to turn out to be Tim's boyfriend, so yeah. Well, life's a bitch and also full of surprises. 

It's impossible to always avoid Superboy, all things considered, but Jason usually can, and thanks to Bat-training and his time with the League and just who he is as a person he's very good at keeping his emotions on lockdown when the dude's around without it actually looking like he's keeping his emotions on lockdown. Mostly he just ignores him and acts like he thinks he's irrelevant, and Superboy seems perfectly happy with that. 

But again, it's impossible to always avoid him, and they're on the same side and everything, more or less. Jason therefore can't technically bitch about the guy randomly landing in the middle of his rooftop stakeout wearing that cocky asshole smirk of his and also his painted-on bodysuit and studded black leather. 

Or he couldn't, except that it is very obviously not actually Superboy wearing all those things. For starters, Superboy never wears that smirk when he's looking at Jason.

For another thing, Jason knows his own damn soulmate when he sees him. Like, he is not actually that oblivious or stupid a person as to not recognize his own damn soulmate. 

"Hey, man," fake Superboy greets casually as his boots hit the roof. Jason runs the internal numbers on whether or not fake Superboy has real Kryptonian powers and decides better safe than sorry, then hits the panic button hidden in the collar of his jacket as he turns to fully face him, making the gesture look like an idle adjustment. 

"Robin need something?" he asks, cocking his head questioningly. Seems wisest to pretend like he's falling for this bullshit, whatever it is. Especially if Kryptonian powers are currently a concern. 

"Naw," the fake Superboy says, his smirk widening crookedly. "This one's an . . . off-the-books social call, as it were." 

"Oh, we make social calls, now?" Jason asks dryly, resisting the irrational urge to hit his panic button again. Not actually a helpful urge, that. The thing's already streaming live audio and video to Oracle and the Batcomputer to get everyone in the loop on what the problem is, that's all that matters. Extra hitting would just make it likelier that fake Superboy might notice something. 

"Maybe I just wanted to see you, Hood," fake Superboy says as his smirk turns into a wicked grin, and then steps towards Jason with very familiar and incredibly unsubtle body language that, again, has never once been directed towards him. 

Goddammit. 

Well, good thing Jason hit his panic button, because there is no damn way this is ending well. He's never actually used the thing before, it's a recent addition to his gear now that he and the Bats are actually mostly working together again, but he already appreciates said addition very, very much. 

Assuming that Bruce is packing kryptonite tonight, anyway. 

Fuck, he'd better be. 

. . . also assuming that whoever this fake Superboy is happens to be vulnerable to kryptonite. Or at least currently happens to be vulnerable to kryptonite. Jason's not sure if this is like a bodyswap situation or a more traditional possession or just a doppelganger or a shapeshifter, but who the hell even knows. Not mind control, he's pretty sure, unless it's the kind that really fucks with somebody's personality. Like, yes, that is Superboy's body language and Superboy's facial expressions and even Superboy's microexpressions, but it's just . . . not Superboy behind any of it. Like, very obviously not. 

. . . weirdly obviously, actually. Like, Jason's really feeling the uncanny valley right now. 

Ugh. 

Well, hopefully this person or thing or weird psychic projection thinks he's fucking stupid. 

"Did you now," Jason says, eyeing fake Superboy through his helmet. Schooling his expression doesn't really matter right now, except of course X-ray vision is a thing, so actually never mind, maybe it does. Again: goddammit. 

Definitely gonna need to keep a handle on his heart rate here.

"Eh, what can I say, Rob was being a basic bitch again and I got bored," fake Superboy says with a dismissive shrug, which is something Jason would pistol-whip the real Superboy for saying but at least provides him a pretty solid script to go off while he waits for reinforcements to show. 

He'd rather be making with the pistol-whipping, though. 

"'Bored', huh," he says instead because if this is somebody hitching a ride in or fully copying Superboy's body, there is no fucking way that he is coming out on top in a one-v-one with a Kryptonian hybrid. He might be able to get away, maybe, but then he'd be leaving a probably pissed-off fake Superboy with free rein on his territory and every reasonably innocent person in it. 

Yeah, that seems like a stupid idea. 

"What can I say, I like a bad boy," fake Superboy says, smirking at him again. Jason would be embarrassingly into that smirk, if not for the fact that it's not Superboy wearing it. Right now, he just wants to deck this fucker. "Don't you?" 

"I could maybe see the appeal," Jason says, though he doesn't usually. Honestly, he's more a romantic than anything else. He knows he won't ever get that, especially considering what he's done and who his soulmate is and how very, very disgustingly in love with his brother said soulmate is, but–not the point. Either way, Jason's not gonna be honest about his taste in partners with a damn fake version of his goddamn soulmate. 

"Yeah, I bet you could," fake Superboy says with a wider smirk as he steps in a little closer, all the way into Jason's personal space. All of Jason's internal alarms go off, his spine prickling in restless discomfort. 

He really, really hopes Bruce is packing kryptonite tonight. 

“We're taking bets now?” Jason snorts dubiously. Fake Superboy grins at him, and it's worse than the smirking because it's not just a suggestive come-on, it's one of the pleased looks the real Superboy would never give him. Something he saves for Tim or Steph or Dick or literally just anyone else. He's pretty sure he's seen him grin like that at Bruce, even. 

Though it admittedly does lack some of its usual effect when Jason can't feel any of the emotions behind it. 

“You can take anything you want, Hood,” fake Superboy purrs, skimming a hand up Jason's chest. If he were Superboy, this would be the part where Jason called him an asshole and asked him what the fuck he thought he was doing, except if he were Superboy he'd never actually be doing this. Superboy loves Tim. Adores him. And he's not a desperate for attention teenager anymore, much less this kind of a selfish fucking prick. 

So Jason is just stuck on this stupid fucking roof with a stupid fucking fake, and this fucking funhouse mirror is the closest he's ever getting to his own fucking soulmate. 

The wait on this damn panic button better be a short one. 

“‘Anything’, huh,” he says, folding his arms. The fake Superboy gives him another smirk and taps his fingers against the underside of Jason's jaw, just where his helmet fastens. 

The fastener clicks, and his helmet falls apart and falls right off him and into fake Superboy's hands. Jason should've left the bomb in it. 

Tactile telekinesis. Okay. So the fucker does have access to Superboy's powers, one way or another. 

Fuck. 

At least Jason wore his domino tonight. He doesn't know what this asshole actually knows, and he might be legally dead, but compromising any Bat-related identities is still not the place to start. 

“You're too damn hot to wear this clunky-ass thing all the time, you know,” fake Superboy says, turning over Jason's helmet in his hands and still smirking at him. Jason would really like to make with the pistol-whipping right now. “Real waste of a pretty face.” 

“We don't all have bulletproof skulls,” Jason says dryly, and fake Superboy laughs. 

“You'd be bulletproof if I got my hands on you,” fake Superboy points out casually, which is not actually an application of TTK Jason was aware of but does raise a lot of questions he is not going to internally explore. Ever.

“Who said you were getting your hands on me?” he says, and the fake Superboy laughs and taps his fingers against Jason’s helmet. 

“Dunno,” he says, tilting his head with a sly expression. “I wouldn’t mind it the other way around either, though.” 

Fuck his life, Jason thinks. 

“I’m on the clock here, you realize,” he says, and fake Superboy laughs again and then pulls a mock-pout. 

“C’mon, Hood. Told you, I’m bored,” he says, somehow actually managing to find the space to step in closer without quite touching him. His grin is a sharp, glittering thing. “Play hooky with me.” 

This panic button cannot possibly work fast enough, Jason thinks. 

“Fuck it, whatever,” he says, because fake Superboy is clearly not taking no for an answer here and he just needs to buy a little time for someone to get here. Hell, even if fake Superboy were taking no for an answer, he’d probably still want to keep the asshole around as opposed to letting him slip off and put on who knows who else’s face. Better to get him while they’ve got him clocked, one way or the other. “It’s been dead all night anyway. What do you want?” 

Fake Superboy’s grin widens. If he was the real one, Jason would want to bite him over that expression. Unfortunately, he’s not the real one. Again: fuck his fucking life. 

“For starters, bet I could liven things up for you,” fake Superboy purrs, and then he props Jason’s helmet on his cocked hip and braces his free hand on the bricks behind him, leaning in close with an absolutely smug “coy” expression. Jason considers biting him in the not fun way. 

Eh, no, he’d probably just break his fucking teeth. 

It’s a fucking temptation, though. 

“Yeah?” Jason drawls dubiously. “Big talk for a Super.” 

Fake Superboy snickers. 

“Yeah, they tell me I’ve got a big mouth,” he says with an obvious leer. “Wanna see?” 

“Do you ever shut the fuck up?” Jason asks, curling his lip in irritation, and fake Superboy laughs. 

And then actually kisses him, the fucking shit. 

Jason barely manages not to punch him for it. Again, he’d just break his knuckles. 

The fake Superboy sticks his tongue in Jason's mouth and Jason gets absolutely no sense of a soulmate bond, so whatever's going on, Superboy is definitely not in the driver's seat right now, or just not home at all or what the fuck ever. So yeah, that's a no on mind control and probably also possession, and definitely not the effects of red or black K. Not that the total lack of empathy bond response all this time hadn't already proven that pretty damn thoroughly, considering. 

Also, the real Superboy's always had a rep as a flirt and if nothing else definitely spends way too much time in Tim's back pocket to not be a better kisser than this by now. Seriously, Jason refuses to believe that he is not, if only for Tim's sake. This prick kisses like he barely understands the concept.

Fucking figures, Jason thinks, and crushes their mouths together. 

Fake Superboy kisses like a fucking middle schooler, and Jason is absolutely exasperated about having to put up with it. Like–it’d be one thing if it was actually Superboy kissing him like this, and if Superboy wasn’t dating his fucking brother. Then he’d probably think it was funny. Or even kind of cute, honestly, especially with how the guy preens and postures and plays it up. 

And then he’d get to teach him how to kiss better, too, and fucking relish the process. 

This, unfortunately, is not that situation. This is just some asshole wearing the face of the hottest bastard Jason knows and not doing it justice with his sub-par kissing skills.

. . . actually–“her” sub-par kissing skills, maybe? Jason actually has no fucking clue if this is a man or a woman, does he. For all he knows this is an actual middle schooler, which holy fucking Christ, is an absolutely disgusting thought. If this is some kid with shapeshifting powers who somebody coached into this, Jason is going to crack out the good ol’ bloody duffel bag and start collecting heads again. 

He’s pretty sure they’re not, at least, because they might suck at kissing but they don’t move like their body is too big or anything like that. Then again, they don’t move like their body doesn’t fit either, so their powers might be accounting for that. Or–whatever they’ve currently got going. Maybe it’s a fucking spell or maybe it is possession and the muscle memory is keeping Superboy’s body moving at least semi-normally. Again: this asshole has this act down to the microexpressions. 

It’s just so, so screamingly obviously fake all the same, though. 

Jason breaks off the kiss to bare his teeth at said fake, who grins at him all crooked and sultry-warm. Jason, again, debates the merits of breaking his knuckles on this asshole’s face. 

“You can’t kiss for shit,” Jason says bluntly, because only a fucking idiot wouldn’t notice that anyway, and fake Superboy laughs. 

“Aw, you don’t like it like Rob does?” he asks teasingly, his grin widening as he leans forward a little heavier on the arm he has against the bricks. Jason is absolutely fucking offended that fake Superboy is trying to convince him that any brother of his would ever settle for kissing that fucking mediocre, much less like it. As fucking if. “Why don’t you show me what you like, Hood? I’ll roll out the red carpet."

Jason should tase this piece of shit. Jason should <i>shoot</i> this piece of shit. Unfortunately, this still might be Superboy’s body even without him in it, and he didn’t pack kryptonite tonight either way. Assuming, again, that kryptonite would even work. 

He’s absolutely never skipping the kryptonite again, though. Not after this bullshit. He’s going full Lex Luthor and getting himself a pair of kryptonite brass knuckles, in fact. And not in blue: he’s going green. 

“You really think I wanna hear about Robin right now?” he says in the hopes the fucker will shut up a little, and fake Superboy just smirks and loops his arm around his neck, pressing fully up against him. Jason is wearing body armor, obviously, but that doesn’t make him feel particularly safe right now. The TTK alone would be an issue, even discounting Kryptonian strength. Fake Superboy could flatten him like a fucking panini with about as much effort as actually making a panini would take right now. 

So like, that’s a concern. 

“So still the jealous type, huh?” fake Superboy purrs, tilting his head a little. He’s much better at “come-hither” looks than he is at kissing, Jason can’t help noticing, which is fucking irritating. He’s also still got Jason’s helmet held against his hip. Jason is weirdly annoyed by that. “How about I just call you ‘Robin’ tonight, then?” 

Jason did so much therapy to not have this exact fucking fucked-up sexual fantasy. Just so much. 

He is definitely shooting this shithead before the night is over. 

“Try it and I’ll shoot you in the fucking dick,” he says flatly, because there’s playing along and there’s shit he just cannot truck with, and fake Superboy laughs.

“Kinky,” he says approvingly. Jason thinks longingly of kryptonite. 

He really, really hopes kryptonite works on this fucker. It’d have to, right? TTK isn’t exactly a standard-issue superpower; the fake’s got to at least have copied Superboy’s body, and that means copying his vulnerabilities. 

Hopefully. 

Of course, Jason doesn’t actually know jack shit about what’s actually going on here and narrowing it down isn’t working half as well as it could be, so . . . fuck if he actually knows if it’d work. 

He really doesn’t appreciate not being prepared in a crisis. Like–that is the literal antithesis of his entire fucking approach to life, is what it is. 

He’s going to need an extra therapy session this week, he’s pretty sure. Possibly several. Maybe he’ll just call his therapist first thing after they wrap this bullshit up, actually, assuming he survives it. That might be for the best. 

Or literally psychologically fucking necessary so he won’t snap and turn into a literal supervillain. One or the other. 

“You’re seriously overestimating my patience, Superboy,” he says flatly. The fake looks pleased, presumably because he still thinks Jason’s falling for this stupid act. 

“Don’t be such a pill,” fake Superboy says, smirking at him. The idea of pistol-whipping him sounds better and better. It’s almost definitely not gonna work, yeah, but that doesn’t mean Jason wouldn’t try it. “Why don’t you just be nice to me, and I’ll give you plenty of reasons not to be jealous tonight. Or at least don’t bore me as bad as Rob’s been, if nothing else."

Jason is going to burn down . . . mmmmmaybe all of Gotham tonight, actually. Like. Just all of it. Completely. Entirely.

[kiwisofsharks]

Yo, don’t do that shit too much [M.M. 1610 & 42]

summary: he found your secret stash and confronted you

pairings: earth 1610! miles morales x gn! reader & earth 42! miles morales x gn! reader

warnings: unedited and not proofread, weeds, edibles, mentiojs of addiction/dependency/relapsing, miles and reader is too affectionate for friends, reader has a soft stomach, they communicate healthily, not really satisfied with this one, might rewrite it when get better, midterms just finished and I’m sick rn

notes: requested by @sflame15-blog, idk if you’ll like it, cus i don’t like it that much. could’ve done better, i think its unrealistic. I’ll revise it when i get better <3

earth 1610 miles morales

“Weeds are illegal and you should never try it,” is what his dad always tell him if they detain another intoxicated person after causing trouble in town.

That’s why I think he’ll never even think of trying to touch those things. So it surprised him when he found some of your stash, especially since you’re pretty close with his parents and would always agree with his father.

He’ll lament on how to confront you for weeks. Not sure if he should even confront you about it since he doesn’t smell it on you; he just found some random plastic ziplock in your room, doesn’t mean it’s yours, right?

He tried acting normal whenever he’s with you. But his staring is less than normal in your opinion. It’s obvious he wants to tell you something. You also know that someone has found your stash, not sure who but you guess its miles considering that he’s being weird and all.

I think he’ll be more worried about your health rather than the fact that you smoke weed. He won’t tell on you, he’s not a snitch.

Will try to make you stop. He’ll do it discreetly if you’re not willing. Call him manipulative but he knows that you shouldn’t be taking those.

Miles sit quietly on your beanbag (or maybe it was your room mate’s? He never asked) his eyes poking holes at the back your head while you sit in your desk studying. He went to your room for some company while he reads his comic, but he’s just really there to try and maybe finally ask you about the stash.

“Quit staring, Morales. If you have something to say, just say it. Thought were way past the awkward stage?”

“Huh? I’m not staring, who says I’m staring?”

Turning your chair to face him with a questioning look. Your brow raised at his behavior. “Really, Miles?” Squinting at his eyes, you telepathically egged him to spill why he’s been so weird recently.

“Okay! So I found something and… I didn’t find it on purpose, okay? I just found it by accident!”

“You found my weeds, didn’t you?”

“yea.” Miles looked away from you like you just found out that he stole something from a shop. He looked so guilty while trying to explain that he didn’t really mean to see it.

“Nah, you’re fine. I’ve been meaning to stop anyways. Just gave me more reason to push through. Just relapsing is all. I’m not planning to use it or anything! It just helps that I know I have some if ever I need it.”

“Oh, okay. Cool cool.” He paused, swinging back and forth on the bean bag as if its a swing. “So you’re not mad that I found it?”

“Not really, but as punishment you need to try these cookies.” You replied, pulling out a metal container from one of your drawers, the few pieces of cookies inside making a sound as it hits the metal container.

Immediately standing up from his seat, he stood in front of you as you handed him one. “Oh, nice! I really like cookies, you know that right?” Taking a bite from it, he hums and observed the cookie while he chews. “Little on the dryer side, did you make them?”

“Nah, I bought them. They’re called edibles, it’s what I use now.”

He stops his chewing completely and just stared at you. Not willing to move his jaw even the slightest. “So it has weed in if?”

“Yea, but not too much. I’m just lessening my in take more and more until I completely stop.”

“Okaaay, I did not like that dry ass cookie, should’ve known that no normal cookie would be that dry unless you’re really bad at it.”

Throwing your head back from laughing, you took a bite from your cookie while still giggling as Miles put down his and proceeded to chug down water from his tumbler. “It’s not that bad, Miles.”

“In all seriousness tho, I’m glad that you’re willing to stop, yn.”

“Yea, thanks, guapito.”

Rolling his eyes and turning his back to you to hide his blush. He returned to plop down at the bean bag and hide his blush with the comic book. Though you can still see his red ears from the sides. Seriously, he doesn’t know whether to hate it or love it when you tease him like that.

earth 42 miles morales

He actually caught you in the act. Miles barged into your room as usual without knocking and caught you red handed while lighting one up, some sticks still laying on your desk and a few used ones on an ashtray that he doesn’t know you have.

He knows what those were, and he also knows that you shouldn’t be smoking that shit.

Unlike his 1610 counterpart who took his time confronting you, earth 42 miles stole the stick directly from your hand along with the other used and unused one and dumped it all on your trashcan, poured water over it and got into a heated argument over it.

He knows you became reliant on it, maybe even addicted. He studied that shit and while it is proven to have relived some of the patients’ pain, you shouldn’t be taking it.

While arguing with you, he keeps staring at your once clear eyes now red due to marijuana. You never scream nor raise your tour voice at anyone, so to find you so mad baffled him.

He knows he reacted too badly, but what do you expect him to do? Act like he didn’t see it?

While you’re too preoccupied getting mad at him, he pressed a pressure point at the back of your neck. Catching your body as you loose consciousness.

When you woke up the next day, you found him slumped at your desk.

You stood up beside him, gently shaking him awake. “Miles, wake up.”

Moving his arms to hug your waist and bury his face in your soft stomach “Just five more minutes, mami.”

“Move to the bed, your back’ll hurt if you don’t sleep properly.” You said, massaging the exposed scalp between his braids.

Groaning he finally stood up, refusing to release his hold on you and waddling to the bed like a penguin. Miles flopped down onto the bed, still having you in his hold. He burrowed his face into you neck, deeply inhaling your natural scent and some smoke that clung to your clothes from last night. “I’m sorry for how I reacted last night, ma.” He whispered, his breath tickling your skin and hair standing from the sensation. “Didn’t mean to be so harsh, I just… that’s bad for you. I don’t want you doing that shit.“

“I know, Miles. You meant good,” Hugging his head closer to you while your other hand rubs his back. You know Miles gets extremely guilty when he does something he doesn’t mean to you and it takes a whole lot of convincing and reassurance to get him to calm down.

“Stop taking that shit, ma. I’ll help you. Just don’t destroy yourself.” His voice trembles, Miles was close to crying, something he only shows you and his mother. “I don’t know why you’re taking those, but if you’re stressed and you just want relief, I’ll help you. I’ll distract you or maybe take you on dates, just stop taking those.”

Your own eyes watered from the cracks in his voice. Miles knows that you’re addicted, he searched through your room last night, finding stash after stash of those leaves. “I’ll try, Miles. I’m sorry for worrying you.”

“Damn right you should be.”

[theultimatekamehamehavoc]

Toko Time! Spoiler Warning of course (though it's barely anything)

First off, Toko's casual attire! I gave her a cute little sun hat for one. I thought it'd be cute but also as good protection of the sun as well as a cute way to hide her face if she ever got a bit shy. Additionally, I feel Toko would be prone to sunburns. Thus, I got her protected while also having her be stylish in her blouse, long skirt, and pretty heels. The heels aren't too long though as I feel those wouldn't be her style. Perhaps Toko would find longer heels a bit gaudy. Plus, I feel she'd be probe to twist an ankle in those. Also, the choker I added on her was a choice I made on a whim. Just felt like mentioning that. Moreover, Toko's work attire. For my AU, for one, she's still writing away with her novels, especially now that she's got more time to herself along with more life experience that can channel more stories. So, in a way, she doesn't really have work attire. It's more that she goes and dresses up a bit more than her casual attire. After all, Toko's a gal who has her fashion sense aligned well with mostly formal attire anyway. As for the specifics of her attire, I gave her a cute little vest for the vibes. Gotta have some nice puffy sleaves too along with some more fancy heels, some leggings, a nice skirt with an adjustable zipper, and a bag to keep some of her stuff in! Feel she wouldn't carry much in there but perhaps just useful stuff like a notebook or two, some pens, her phone, and some feminine hygiene products in case of an emergency. Those are for Komaru though since she's a bit of a girl failure still. Additional info about her work in general is that, when she's not writing away in her room, she helps Komaru out and is sort of like the co-owner of Komaru's little shop. The store has a ton of books, manga's, comics. Haven't fully thought of all the little stuff that would be there but I feel it'd be a bit like a thrift store where there's a bit of everything in there, from scarfs to handmade sweaters little trinkets. Maybe there is also a donation thing going on too where one can donate an item to the shop in exchange for some cash or maybe another item. There can be a little system there! Komaru works on the store independently for the most part. She deserves to be independent after all! Komaru does has good support from Toko as well as occasional help from Byakuya. I also like to think that Toko herself might work at a library on her own. The library wouldn't be that far away from Komaru's shop as well as the two's apartment. I like to think that Toko, with age, would venture out a bit more and gain some more confidence. She's still an introvert at heart of course! Plus, though she keeps a low profile in life, she still is a well known figure both from her talent, being in the killing game, and what she did with Komaru by helping save Towa city.

For her physical build, Toko fans, rejoice!! She's at a healthy weight!! She's taking care of herself!! One main thing of note in Toko's better physical care is her hair. For one, it's shorter, perhaps Toko cutting it at some point to really get rid of the previous tangles she had before slowly going to restore her hair's heath. Additionally, her hair's got some layering to it and is done fairly loose. I like to think that Toko in her youth did her braids too tight. Maybe to compensate for her lack of showers or that she didn't brush all that well. Not anymore though! Some other things of note I'd like to mention are her undergarments. I see her as the type to want to feel pretty both on the outside and inside. This is the case once having a lot more money to herself and can have that ability to treat herself. Toko's time with Komaru and the two of them still living together has certainly helped as well with the both of them having each other's backs. I'd like to think though that, at some point, Toko would like to move out at some point to her own place. Maybe she's only stayed with Komaru for so long out of habit or to help keep Komaru safe. Toko cares for Komaru a lot after all! I like the idea of Toko going and becoming more in charge with her life though. A Toko who's taking initiative! Something like that.

I'd say I'm pretty happy with how Toko's turned out! Might be some edits I'd to to her design but nothing too crazy. And no worries. A certain fiend is still going to have her own time to shine! May take a bit for the next design but it won't be too long! (1) | (5)

[codfanficedits]

Before the mask - Part six.

Pairing: Simon Riley x Fem!Reader

Summary: Because Simon wasn’t born as Ghost.

Wordcount: 1857| Rating: E! (18+ only!)

Warnings: Smoking,

A/N: Simon would be around 22/23 in this fic, so it would be set around 2015 ish? Also, sorry for not uploading more, I have to rewrite my papers, do my internship and I want to write Christmas fics, so it has been a little too much. I'll try to do better!

His hand reach the small of your back, gently guiding you to the bathroom, the moment you stand still your neck gets peppered with small kisses. “You smell so nice.” He muttered, his lips pressed against the crook of your neck.

Simon nearly couldn’t wait for the water to warm up before he pulled you under the shower. “Stop it, today is not my hair wash day.” You groan in an attempt to protest, but he pays no mind to your words, instead his arms get wrapped around your waist, pulling you close to him. He finally has you where he wants you, and he is not letting go.

“Can you help me with my Halloween mask?” He asks, finally taking one of his hands off you, to grab the shower gel. “I want to make it myself, but I have no clue how.” He squeezed the gel on a wash cloth before he used it to clean you.

“I have an idea.” You muse, closing your eyes as you feel his touch on your body. “Ever heard of paper mâché?”

“Are you trying to curse me?” He jokes, not being used to the word, as his hands run over your body and you laugh at the stupid joke. “Maybe.” You answer. “But if I wanted to, I would already have done it.”

“I would happily be cursed if that means spending more time with you.” He whispers in your ear. And in response you just roll your eyes at him. “If you had been this flirty before, we would’ve ended up in the shower together way sooner.” You say, just to tease him. And your teasing is met with a groan, alongside another kiss in the crook of your neck.

Simon slaps your ass, the sound echoing through the bathroom and he lets out a content hum while he lathers himself with soap. “So, the whole paper thing. What is it?”

You watch the little show before you, enjoying the sight of his soaped up body. “Two parts glue, one part water, a ripped up newspaper and a balloon.” You begin. “I used to do this in elementary school all the time to make masks and stuff.”

Simon frowns, but he is more amused than anything else. “So you’re saying that I am a child?” “Maybe I am, maybe I’m not.” You muse as you watch his wash the soap away. “Can you help me?” He asks. “Sounds like you’re a pro and I can’t have an ugly mask for Halloween.”

How could you ever resist such a sweet request? “Of course.” You promise him. “We have a mission later today, but afterwards we should find the time to shop for the supplies.”

He turns the shower off, handing you a towel before he dries himself off. “You know what? That sounds like a lovely idea.” His lips get pressed against your temple again.

He walks into his room again, dressing into the uniform and gear you’ve seen him plenty of times in, and it is enough to make your heart swoon every time. When you’re done watching him, eyeing him, you finally get dressed yourself, putting on one of his boxers instead of your own underwear, and Simon grins about the thought of you walking around in something that is his, again.

He pulls you close, his lips finding your forehead again. “Stay safe, okay?” He pleads. “I promised your dad, and I would hate to make a bad first impression when you get hurt.”

In response you laugh. “I’ll see what I can do.” You return the sweet gesture with a kiss from your own, neither of you wanting to pull back, but duty calls and you have to. “I’ll see you tonight.” Simon promises you, before he leaves, letting you in his room, until you have to go too.

The shitty thing about war, is that is seems to follow you. The blood on your hands no longer feels like something you can wash off, the stains seem to stay and you don’t know how much longer you can take it.

It was a successful mission, you and your team got what was needed, but at what cost? At the cost of who? You had promised Simon that you would be with him tonight, but you just couldn’t. The burden of being a soldier seemed to weigh you down like a ball and chain.

Simon was worried at first, you had been late before, but something in his gut told him that something was wrong. You weren’t in your room, but your teammates had told him you had arrived back to base with them. So he went to look for you, outside.

Heavy but careful footsteps made their way towards you and they stopped a few inches behind you.

“Smoking again? You said you’d stop.” Simon’s voice was teasing but light hearted

“It’s gotten tougher hasn’t it?”

You took another drag of your cigarette. "Yeah, yeah." You grumbled, as you blew out the smoke. "I did say I would quit."

You shifted your eyes to the sky, looking for the stars. "But it is getting tougher each mission." You said, a sad smile on your face.

Simon came close to you and his hands ran softly up and down your shoulders. You felt surprisingly small compared to him and he thought how sweet it was. The warmth of his hand was soothing as they rubbed small circles over your back

“You do good work out there in the field, the hardest jobs are given to the best soldiers. They need someone to be reliable like you. I know the missions seem tough but I promise things are going to get better.”

“Does it ever get better though?" You asked, a little sceptical, although you did appreciate his attempt to soothe you.

"It feels like it is just getting worse, Simon." You sighed softly. "The blood on my hands, the horrors, the screams."

"How does one cope with that?"

His warm gentle smile spread across his face as he looked at you. You were so sincere and so strong. He could see the pain and the weight in your eyes.

“You have to remember the lives that you have saved, lovie. You are on the right side of history and these missions are tough but necessary. The horror you witnessed is a reminder to be more aware and to never forget how important it is to serve and protect the lives of many”

"How do I know I'm on the right side?" You murmured. "The people whose life I’m taking all think they're on the right side too."

You let out a sigh. "What makes us different from them?" You ran a hand through your hand. "It just.. it keeps coming up in my brain."

Simon placed his fingers at the bottom of your chin and ran his soft thumb over your smooth lips. He moved your head so that you would face him.  His eyes looked deep into yours.

“It keeps coming up in your brain because you care, lovie.” He said with a soft smile. “And that is a good thing. But we are different. We fight for a greater good. They fight for selfish greed or their own twisted agenda. There is a big difference”

Did you buy his words? Not really, to you, your enemy might say the same to their team, to their soldiers.

What was right, and what was wrong?

You kissed his thumb when he dragged it along your bottom lip. "I guess so." You murmured. "It’s just... Sometimes I wonder if the army is the right place for me."

His thumbs made small circular motion on your bottom lip, as he continued to stare deep into your eyes. He wanted to kiss you but this wasn’t the time

“What else would you do other than the army? You don’t seem like the type of girl to become a housewife. It is the right place for you. You can make a difference and I know you do.” He chuckled softly.

“But maybe one day we’ll retire and become the owners of a nice house with a big backyard.”

You rolled your eyes at him. "Being a housewife isn't my style." You chuckled. "But retirement with a big backyard does sound nice." You added with a sigh. "I don't know. Sometimes it’s hard to believe that we're fighting for the right cause when all we do is shed blood."

A small smile graced his face. He pulled you close in a gentle embrace. His arms wrapped around your body. He ran his hands gently through your hair.

“You are overthinking this again, my love. The world is a complicated place and it’s easy to let yourself get overwhelmed by it all. But don’t let yourself become too lost in your thoughts.”

“Just hold tight and wait. Things always make sense in the end.” Simon promised.

"Guess you're right." You mumbled, although you couldn't fully shake the feeling yet. But you tried to focus on his embrace, on his warmth, and the temporary peace that it gave you.

"I'm always right" he said with a cheeky grin. But his eyes were glued on yours as his voice was soft and tender.  "I'm here for you, always. Anytime you get lost in your thoughts and need someone to talk to. You come to me. I'll try to understand and help you figure things out.”

His joke gets rewarded with a scoff, but your lips curl upward to a smile. "Thank you." You muttered. "You're more of a help than you realize."

"I'm just doing my job." he softly chuckled. His hands caressed her hair and he stared at her face.  "It’s not going to be a walk in the park from now on but I know you have what it takes to stay strong."

“Now.” He took your pack of cigarettes from you. “Let’s quit this, and come back inside with me to cuddle.”

You smile at him, he had been right, and the feeling of dread was buried into your soul again. “We can go craft shopping tomorrow, lovie. No need to do it now.”

He tucks some of your hair behind your ear. “When will you Skype your parents again?” He asks. And as an answer you shrug. “It’s difficult sometimes due to the time difference. But I was hoping to do it later this week, why?”

Simon doesn’t want to seem desperate, or needy, but in reality he had missed the warmth of your family, he had missed the joy it gave him. “No reason.” He muttered. “Maybe I would like to see them again.”

In response you smile once more, it is such a nice feeling that he likes your family, and it did make your heart flutter a little when he mentioned it. “I’ll let you know when I pick a date again.”

Simon took your hand into his, walking towards his room with you, the moment the door closes behind him, his arms snake around your waist again, and his lips find yours again.

[wildsupernova]

roses, chocolates, and a heart shaped box.

summary: valentine’s day had always felt like a joke to you. nobody had ever taken the time to do anything nice for you, but when the sickeningly romantic steve harrington falls in love with you, of course you’ll have the best valentine’s day ever.

pairing: steve harrington x f!reader

warnings: some suggestive language, nothing too crazy

word count: 2.4k

a/n: hey everyone! i know it’s been a while since i posted anything, but my second year of college has been kicking my ass and making it near impossible to get motivation to do anything. i figured what better way to get back in the swing of things than with a valentine’s day fic! i know it’s a day early, but i wanted to get this up before i got too busy and forgot about it. anyway, hope you guys enjoy, and happy valentine’s day!

masterlist | prompts list | ao3

Valentine’s Day had never been something you looked forward to.

Even as a kid, you associated it with loneliness, watching on as all the little second grade boys gave their crushes a dandelion they picked fresh from the playground at recess. You detested it when they started selling candy-grams in middle school, because every year it seemed that you were the only one who never received one. You’d check your locker every day for the whole week hoping that maybe someone had slipped you a note only for nothing to fall out when you opened it, held your breath when they handed out the candy-grams only for your name to never be called, and dressed yourself up nice in the hopes that someone at the Valentine’s Day dance would ask you to dance with them only to end up with sore feet and running mascara by the end of the night. By the time high school came around, you gave up on the idea of Valentine’s Day altogether, never having a relationship last long enough to celebrate it. 

You’d turned into a stone hearted cynic, and just the mention of the words ‘Valentine’s Day’ had you rolling your eyes. 

That was, until you met Steve Harrington. 

You’d never met someone so…romantic. He was the kind of guy to show up to your house with flowers for no reason other than that he wanted to, or buy you a pair of fake diamond earrings (hey, it’s the thought that counts, right?) he saw at an antique shop because he saw them and immediately thought of you. He was the type to leave small little love letters in your locker between classes, and pick you up and spin you around and cover you in kisses because he missed you. 

But that didn’t change the fact that you hated Valentine’s Day. 

Steve had never been able to understand how someone could hate Valentine’s Day. ‘Come on!’ He’d say. ‘It's a whole day where people who love each other do something special together. What could be better than that?’ You’d always respond the same way; that to you, Valentine’s Day was nothing but a commodity and an excuse for boyfriends who did nothing for their girlfriends all year to make up for it with a fancy dinner and a box of chocolates. You don’t need a special day to show you love someone. If you really love someone, everyday is like that. 

It took him prying it out of you before you finally admitted the real reason you hated Valentine’s Day. 

“Nobody’s ever done anything nice for me on Valentine’s Day, okay?” The words come out with a bit more bite than you mean for them too, and Steve’s face scrunched a bit. 

“What?”

“Nobody’s ever done anything for me for Valentine’s Day.” You repeat yourself. “I’ve never gotten…flowers, or chocolates, or a nice dinner or anything. It’s not a big deal, I’m used to it.”

“Nobody has ever done anything nice for you?”

“I mean, my parents always got me chocolate every year but…nobody ever really made the choice to do anything.” You picked at your nails and tried to make your voice sound like it didn’t bother you, but Steve could hear the disappointment. He tried to question you about it further, but you changed the subject before he could. “It’s not a big deal. Let’s just talk about something else, okay?”

For the next month, Steve took it as a personal challenge to give you the best Valentine’s Day you’d ever had. He even made a stupid little flow chart in one of his notebooks, chicken scratch and scribbles covering 3 whole pages while he tried to brainstorm the best way to make up for all of your shitty Valentine’s Days. He probably looked crazy, the way he was scribbling like a madman during class, but it would all be worth it in the end. 

The plan he came up with was simple, really.

Everyday for the week leading up to Valentine’s Day, he put a single red rose in your locker or left it on your bedroom windowsill. Never anything more, other than a note he’d sloppily tied to the stem of the flower with a pink ribbon, the words ‘I love you’ written in red ink. Every day you placed the new flower in a small glass of water you used as a makeshift vase and put the notes in an old jewelry box you didn’t use anymore. 

Everyday you’d tell Steve he didn’t have to do that, that you were content with not getting anything, but your smile that spread ear to ear told him more than your words did. 

By the time Valentine’s Day finally arrived, you had a full bouquet of seven red roses sitting on your bedside table, and a stack of sloppily written love notes sitting in a box on your dresser. It made you hold your head just a little bit higher, smile a bit brighter, and feel a little bit happier on a day that you always associated with something lonely. 

When you opened your locker that morning, you were met with another red rose and a note, except this time the note had been clumsily cut into the shape of a lopsided heart, the words ‘Be my valentine?’ written in glittery pink pen. Two arms wrapping around your waist had you clutching the flower tighter, leaning your back into Steve’s chest. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day.” He whispered the words against your ear as he pressed a soft kiss to your cheek, a smile pressed against your skin. You turned in his arms and draped your own over his shoulders. 

“Where’d you get a pink glitter pen?”

“Don’t worry about it.” He shut up anymore questions with a kiss, and you giggled. A stupid, girly, lovesick giggle. Steve had a dopey smile on his face when you parted. “Got you something else too.”

He reached into your locker and pulled something out from behind the textbooks, a heart shaped box tied shut with two white ribbons. You went to untie them before he stopped you, placing a hand over your own. 

“Don’t open it til’ you get home, okay?” You gave him a skeptical look but nodded anyway. 

“Okay?” You slipped the box back into your locker and closed it, cradling your books and the rose in the crook of your arm. “Hey, I gotta get to class, but I’ll see you at lunch, okay?” You pressed a kiss to his cheek, and as you went to walk away, he grabbed your wrist lightly. 

“You never answered my question, you know.” Your smile grew impossibly wider. 

“Yes, I’ll be your valentine.”

When you got home that afternoon, you untied the note from the stem of the rose, clipped it, and placed it in the cup with the others, hand delicately adjusting the flowers until they fell just the right way. You pulled the box from your backpack and plopped down on the bed, untying the ribbon and pulling the lid off. 

Inside was an assortment of fancy chocolates, the kind you’d always eye at the grocery store as a kid but your parents told you were too expensive to buy. In a small empty space in the center sat a small black velvet box and another note, folded over in a rather well made origami heart. You picked it up and unfolded it, smiling at the words written inside. 

‘I’m picking you up at 7. Wear something nice. 

I love you.’

When you opened the velvet box, you almost cried. 

Inside the box sat a small promise ring, a silver band swirling in dainty, earthen patterns until they curled around a single pink gemstone fashioned in the shape of a rose. Underneath the lid was a matching pair of earrings, and when you picked up the ring, you noticed an engraving on the inside of the band. 

‘I’ll love you until the last rose on Earth dies.’

It all felt like too much. You’d gotten so used to being alone, so used to never getting any gifts at all, that it felt like you didn’t deserve all of these special things Steve was doing for you. It was almost overwhelming, to have someone choose to show you how much they love you, instead of it feeling like some sort of obligation. 

Someone chose to love you. 

And you really, really liked that. 

By the time the clock hit 7, you felt butterflies swimming in your stomach. You knew you had nothing to be nervous about, but that didn’t stop your heart from beating far too fast and your face from keeping a constant blush. It didn’t help that you felt out of place dressed the way you were. 

You hadn’t had a reason to dress particularly nice since middle school, nor had you really had a desire to. When you’d pulled the nicest dress you owned out of your closet-a tight black dress that went to just above your knees and made you feel more than a little self conscious-the hanger had been covered in a thin layer of dust, as had the heels you decided to wear it with. The makeup on your face felt heavy, something you’d had to ask your mom for help with, and you coughed as you sprayed perfume straight into your mouth. You slipped the promise ring onto your finger and watched as it sparkled in your bedroom light.

When a knock on the door echoed through your living room at exactly 7:01 pm, you tugged the bottom of your dress down and walked over to the door, swinging the door open slowly. On the other side stood Steve, far better dressed than you had ever seen him, white button down and suit pants pressed smooth without a single wrinkle. He had a few of the buttons on his shirt undone for the fabric to fall open, revealing just enough of his chest to have you blushing. His hair, perfectly quaffed as always, fell into his eyes a bit, and a lovesick smile hid behind a large bouquet of roses. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day, beautiful.” You took the bouquet from him, letting out a soft laugh. 

“I think you’ve given me enough roses for one week.”

“Well, you said nobody had ever gotten you flowers for Valentine’s Day, so I figured I’d give you enough to make up for it.” You thanked him with a kiss on the cheek and left to put the new roses with the rest, and as you arranged them all to fit, you noticed that there were 18 roses, one for every Valentine’s Day you’d missed out on. You smiled.

After a quick goodbye to your parents, the two of you were on your way to wherever Steve planned to take you, heat on blast to try and counteract the bitter Indiana winter. When Steve pulled into the parking lot of Enzo’s, your heart sputtered.

“Enzo’s?”

“You said you’d never been, but you’d always wanted to go, so I figured I’d take you out to a nice dinner. You know, to make up for all the times nobody ever took you.” He seemed almost nervous, fidgeting in his seat while his hands tightened a bit on the gear shift as he put the car in park. A smile slowly found its way onto your face, and you leaned over the center console to press a kiss to his cheek. When you pulled away, you giggled at the lipstick mark now staining his skin, and he wiped it away with a blush on his cheeks. 

Dinner had been a bit of a culture shock. You weren’t used to anything this ‘high end’, the entire restaurant filled to capacity with couples dressed to the nines to celebrate the holiday. A few of them were around your age, but they ran in a social circle so far away from yours that you didn’t know any of their names. 

That night was how you found out you weren’t really one for ‘fine dining’, portions far too small for the outrageous prices listed on the menu. Regardless, you had enjoyed it, even though you much preferred the burgers at the fast food place a few minutes away from your house. It helped that Steve was great company, and by the end of the night you were wishing you didn’t have to go home. 

“You could always come stay the night with me.” Steve’s hand snaked around your waist as he pulled you closer, mere inches away from your front door. “My parents are gone for the week. Again.”

You swatted at his shoulder when his face morphed into a suggestive smirk. 

“You know my dad would kill me.”

“Just don’t tell him.” The words were a whisper against your ear as he pressed a series of kisses to your cheek. “Just sneak out. I’ll move my car down the street so they don’t see me and everything.”

“Do you want me to never be able to see you again?” You let out a small laugh, gently pushing his head away from your face and neck. “If they find out I snuck out I will literally never be allowed to talk to you again.”

Steve put on an exaggerated pout, earning him an elbow to the side.

“Don’t give me that look, I’m serious.” Despite your scolding tone, the smile hadn’t dropped from your face. Steve held his hands up in surrender. 

“Fine, fine. But next time your parents are gone for the weekend you’re staying the night.” You let out a laugh and pressed a kiss to his lips, Steve chasing after you when you pulled away. 

“Goodnight, Steve. Thank you, for everything you did for me tonight.” He gave you another soft kiss as he smiled against your lips. 

“Can’t have my girl thinkin’ I’d just let her wallow on Valentine’s Day. I had to show you what you were missing.” His tone was borderline smug, and all you could do was kiss the smirk off his face. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow. I love you.” You’d said those words to him before, but somehow, this time, they held a little bit more weight to them. 

“I love you, too.” One more kiss. “You better go before your dad comes out here and chases me off.” Reluctantly, Steve began heading back to his car, flashing you a wave and a smile as you headed inside. 

Valentine’s Day was still overrated, but it was a bit more bearable when you had someone like Steve.