#these are how the items i look in my head

[moonlightwritingf1]

The Secret Santa Gift | LN4

𐙚༘⋆˖°🎄๋࣭ ⭑₊ ⊹ summary ━━━━━━━ At a Christmas party, Y/N receives a gift from Lando, her Secret Santa. After realizing his feelings, she meets him in Hyde Park, where Lando confesses his love.

𐙚༘⋆˖°🎄๋࣭ ⭑₊ ⊹ pairing ━━━━━━━ Lando Norris x she!reader

𐙚༘⋆˖°🎄๋࣭ ⭑₊ ⊹ word count ━━━━━━━ 1.8k

Inside Pietra and Max’s flat, the warm glow of fairy lights cast a festive ambiance. The group had gathered around, their laughter and chatter filling the space. Among the group was Lando Norris, the Formula 1 driver, whose infectious energy was as much a highlight of the evening as the spiced mulled wine.

Y/N had met Lando through Pietra. He was charming, funny, and always had a way of making her laugh, but she’d never considered that he might see her as more than just a friend. Why would someone like him—a world-famous driver with fans across the globe—be interested in someone like her?

What Y/N didn’t know was that from the moment Lando had met her, he was hooked. Her shy smiles, fierce wit, and the way she carried herself had captivated him. He had tried to drop hints—playful teasing, lingering stares, and always managing to be by her side whenever they were in the same room. But so far, his feelings had gone unnoticed, much to the amusement of their mutual friends.

Tonight, Lando’s heart raced with anticipation. He had drawn Y/N’s name for Secret Santa, and he’d spent days planning her gift. If he couldn’t tell her how he felt outright, he’d let his actions do the talking.

As everyone settled in a circle around the tree, Pietra handed out the gifts.

“Alright, everyone, one at a time. Let’s see what Santa’s brought us,” Pietra announced with a grin.

Y/N’s turn came quickly. She picked up a neatly wrapped box with her name on it and smiled. “Ooh, this one looks fancy.”

She carefully unwrapped the paper to reveal a beautifully designed gift box. Inside were items that immediately caught her attention: a novel by her favorite author, a selection of her go-to snacks, and a handwritten note tucked neatly between them.

She picked up the note and read it aloud, her cheeks turning pink as she spoke:

"To Y/N,

I hope these little things bring a smile to your face. You deserve all the happiness in the world. Happy Christmas!

—Your Secret Santa."

The room was quiet for a moment before the group erupted into knowing smiles and exchanged glances.

“This is perfect,” Y/N said, beaming. “Whoever my Secret Santa is, thank you!”

Across the room, Lando leaned back against the couch, his soft smile betraying his delight. “Glad you like it,” he said casually.

Y/N gave him a warm smile before turning her attention back to the gift box, completely unaware of the depth behind his words.

Later in the evening, when the group had dispersed into smaller conversations, Pietra sidled up to Lando. She crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow.

“You’re not subtle at all, you know,” she said, her tone teasing.

Lando shrugged, taking a sip of his drink. “Don’t need to be. She’s worth it.”

Pietra shook her head with a grin. “You’ve got it bad, Norris. When are you going to tell her?”

Lando glanced over at Y/N, who was laughing at something one of the others had said. Her smile lit up the room, and for a moment, it was just her in his world.

“Soon,” he said softly.

As the evening wound down and guests began to leave, Lando lingered behind, offering to help Pietra and Max clean up. Y/N stayed too, not wanting the night to end just yet.

“Did you have fun tonight?” Lando asked as he carried a stack of plates to the kitchen.

“Yeah,” Y/N replied, leaning against the counter. “It’s always nice to get together like this. And that gift… It was really thoughtful.”

Lando met her gaze, his lips quirking into a smile. “I’m glad. You deserve it.”

There was something in his tone—something warm and genuine—that made her stomach flutter. She quickly looked away, brushing it off as friendly banter.

As the clock struck midnight, Lando walked Y/N to the door. The cold air outside was a stark contrast to the warmth of the evening.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he said, his voice soft.

“Goodnight, Lando,” she replied, her cheeks tinged pink from more than just the cold.

As she walked away, Lando stood there for a moment, watching her disappear into the night. He knew he couldn’t keep his feelings a secret much longer.

And maybe, just maybe, Y/N was beginning to notice too.

The days following the Secret Santa evening were uneventful for Y/N—or so she told herself. Her mind, however, kept drifting back to the gift. There was something about it, something so specific and thoughtful, that made her heart skip a beat. Whoever her Secret Santa was had paid attention to the little details about her life. But who could it have been?

“It’s probably just Pietra,” she muttered to herself one morning as she walked to the café near her office for her usual coffee fix. “She knows I love that author.”

Still, the way Lando had smiled at her that night lingered in her thoughts. It wasn’t the playful grin she was used to seeing. It was softer, almost tender, and it made her cheeks heat every time she replayed it in her head.

Shaking off the memory, she stepped into the café, greeted by the rich aroma of coffee beans and the low hum of conversation.

Lando, on the other hand, wasn’t shaking off anything. The memory of Y/N’s smile when she opened his gift was etched in his mind. He’d been tempted to tell her the truth that night but had held back, not wanting to overwhelm her. But he couldn’t wait much longer.

“Mate, just tell her,” his friend Max had said during a call the day after the party. “She’s not as oblivious as you think.”

Lando wasn’t convinced. Y/N had a way of brushing off his flirtations as jokes, as though the idea of him liking her was absurd. But he was determined to change that.

A few days later, Y/N found herself at the same café again, waiting for her latte. It was one of those rare slow mornings, and she decided to sit by the window to watch the city bustle by. As she sipped her coffee, an older woman sitting at the next table leaned over with a warm smile.

“Excuse me, dear,” the woman said. “I couldn’t help but notice—are you seeing that young man who was sitting here a few minutes ago?”

Y/N blinked, caught off guard. “Um, no. I don’t think I know who you mean.”

The woman chuckled softly. “He was sitting here earlier, fiddling with his phone and glancing at the door every few seconds. When you walked in, his face lit up like a Christmas tree. He left not long after but looked quite pleased with himself.”

Y/N frowned, confused. “Are you sure it was me he was looking at?”

“Oh, absolutely,” the woman said, her eyes twinkling. “He couldn’t take his eyes off you.”

Y/N felt her cheeks heat. “What did he look like?” she asked, though she already had a sinking suspicion.

“Dark brown hair, striking greenish-blue eyes, and a sharp jawline. He looked like someone who belonged on the cover of a high-end sports magazine—tall and had an athletic build.”

Y/N’s stomach flipped. It couldn’t be… could it?

That evening, as she walked home, her mind raced. The description fit Lando perfectly, and the woman’s words were hard to ignore. Was it possible that he’d been there, watching her? And if so, why hadn’t he said anything?

By the time she reached her flat, she was too restless to sit still. She grabbed her phone and opened a message thread with Pietra.

Y/N: Can I ask you something? Was Lando my Secret Santa?

A few seconds later, her phone buzzed.

Pietra: Took you long enough to figure it out. Yes, it was him. And yes, he’s head over heels for you.

Y/N stared at the message, her heart pounding. Pietra’s words confirmed what the woman in the café had hinted at.

The next day, Lando texted her out of the blue.

Lando: Fancy a walk in Hyde Park? I’m in London for a couple of days.

Y/N hesitated but replied.

Y/N: Sure. When?

That afternoon, they met by the park entrance. Lando greeted her with his usual playful smile, though his eyes held a certain softness that made her heart flutter.

“Thanks for coming,” he said as they started walking.

“It’s nice to get some fresh air,” Y/N replied, trying to sound casual.

For a while, they strolled in comfortable silence, the crunch of gravel underfoot and the distant sound of children playing filling the gaps.

“Can I ask you something?” she said suddenly, stopping near a bench.

Lando turned to her, his hands in his coat pockets. “Anything.”

She took a deep breath. “Were you my Secret Santa?”

His lips twitched into a smirk. “What gave it away?”

“Pietra,” she admitted, folding her arms. “And maybe an old woman in a café who said you were staring at me like a lovesick puppy.”

Lando’s eyes widened, then he laughed—a warm, genuine sound. “Lovesick puppy, huh? That’s new.”

Y/N felt her cheeks heat. “So… it’s true?”

Lando stepped closer, his teasing tone softening. “Yeah, it’s true. I was your Secret Santa. And I’ve been trying to tell you how I feel for months.”

Her breath hitched. “Lando…”

He reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “You’re everything, Y/N. You’re funny, smart, kind, and you have no idea how much you light up a room just by being in it. I’ve been crazy about you since the day we met.”

She stared at him, her mind racing. All the little moments—the lingering looks, the teasing, the way he always seemed to be near her—suddenly made sense.

“I… I thought you were just being nice,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Lando chuckled softly. “I don’t flirt with just anyone, you know.”

Y/N bit her lip, her heart pounding. “I didn’t think someone like you would look at someone like me.”

His expression turned serious. “Y/N, you’re everything I’ve been looking for. And I don’t care about what I do or where I live. All I care about is you.”

Her eyes filled with tears as his words sank in. “You really mean that?”

He nodded, his thumb brushing against her cheek. “I’d do anything for you. You mean that much to me.”

Y/N smiled through her tears. “I think I’ve been falling for you too. I just didn’t realize it.”

Lando’s grin returned, playful yet full of warmth. “Took you long enough.”

Before she could reply, he leaned in, capturing her lips in a gentle, heartfelt kiss. The world around them faded, leaving only the two of them in that perfect moment.

[beuxwhoyouare]

Bewildering

The Skreat escape pod crash landing on Earth one night caused chaos in more ways than one. Several people’s lives were altered forever by the events that immediately followed the ships blazing destruction. It was dark as sirens blared through the night heading towards the blaze.

I woke up by the shrieking sounds of alarms approaching. We crashed on some foreign planet after the sudden attack. My biggest fear was being captured on this planet, what if they were the ones that attacked us? What if they took me and tortured me for species secrets. I couldn't let them know about Skreats and began slithering as fast as I could through the area lined with bark lined towers.

2 figures approached in the night, but I couldn't focus on identifying features and chose to hide. Suctioning my way up a bark tower, I chose to use my observation skills to determine if they were friendly organisms or foes determined to take me in for experimentation.

"Raph I don't think we should get closer. We should go back to camp and evacuate. It looks like it could lead to a big wild fire," the shorter of the two pleaded with the bigger one.

"Alex, dude. There's no way it wasn't like a giant secret ship or something insane that caused it. Didn't you hear that crazy crash? We gotta see this thing first hand," the taller and much more statured of the two said with a boomy resonance.

The two were going towards the ship crash at a rate faster than I could slithering on this planets gravitational pull. I decided they were my way to observe the site and get there faster. I dropped my suction and aimed to fall on their bags. After detaching, I aimed to fall on the broader one since it seemed like my size would be negligible on him.

After falling onto his bag, he turned around as if he heard something behind him, but by that point I had slid into an opening on the enclosure. We Skreats are very pliable and I made my way into his bag.

The pair of earthlings made their way closer to the ships crash site but by the time they got there bright lights and tape marked off the region. Curiosity struck many trying to get a sight at the alien ship. I peaked out of the bag only to see the blaze. There’s no way any Skreats could have survived such a blast.

Numb. All I felt was numbness as this earthling unknowingly carried me away from the scene. Was I the last Skreat? How does one internalize the idea that you’re the last of your kind? The bag shook and then got flung onto a nearby soft surface after a loud door shut. I flew inside the bag which rocked me back to cognizance. Where am I now? I peaked out of the fabric cage I resided in and saw the taller one walking around a room.

He peered into a doorway that emanated light before pulling out a round red sphere and taking a bite.

He appeared to be preparing earthen sustenance…I should become more accustomed to this if I’m the last Skreat I’ll need to blend in with the earthlings. I left the soft seat the bag was thrown onto and slid my way closer to get a better look.

He threw things into a hot cauldron item over a flame. After a few time sectors he was done and put some of the substance into a bowl, that’s when I lost my grip on some steam and fell into the bowl when he wasn’t aware.

I hid among orange, green, and tan bits of sustenance in the hot salty broth. I stung but I couldn’t risk being caught. Eventually a colder metallic platform came into the bowl and lifted me up to his front facing orifice, despite my protests I got swallowed again without his notice.

I refused to be defeated. I mustered up the energy and detoured before meeting the earthlings digestive acids and headed to his core. I guess you call it a heart.

Once there, I began inserting my tendrils and began spreading myself through his bloodstream. It’s a large task for such a small Skreat like myself to attempt a takeover of a creature this large but I was desperate to live.

The large creature began to notice and clasped hard at his chest. But it was too late for him. Pulse pulse pulse. I could feel his heart pumping and eventually I synced up with it. We were becoming one. It’s a skill of the Skreats but it was my first time doing it. I was scared to do it wrong or worse…kill the host.

I began trying to use my new lungs. A phenomenon that like sounds like gasping for air from those who normally use lungs. Eventually I calmed down and brought the heart pulsing down to a normal seeming speed. All the internal systems seemed to normalize as I calmed the body down.

Except one part of the sizable earthling….

I used the body’s messaging device to take an image for further research later. Then I continued to calm the body down leading the appendage to become more restrained. But a message appeared from someone named Babe. I opened it up to see a slimmer earthling with longer hair. They appeared unclothed with a message saying “can i come over?” I replied with my new fingers “affirmative”.

I continued to try enjoying the sustenance the human made before. Wow these sensations from my new mouth were so vibrant and exhilarating. I wonder what else I can figure out. My new thick fingers fiddled with the bag I came out of nearby. An item flopped out with a bunch of cards, I picked up one with this bodies image.

Raphael James Conrad Lee. Was that his identification? That seems very long and superfluous. Must be why that other human called him Raph before.

A knock came to the door of the housing unit I was in. I approached the door and instead of investigating almost as if the host was on autopilot it turned the knob and a tiny earthling stood there in a see through top piece of clothing and a frilly bottom one. I believe this must be the opposite gender, a woman.

She lunged at me piloting the host and placed her mouth on to mine introducing her anatomy to mine. I reciprocated before she yanked my bottom clothing down. My previously hard appendage revived itself with a mind of its own as the woman placed her mouth on it.

All I saw was her eyes as she moved swiftly. One she placed her mouth on it, it felt like all I could see was colors. Oh my what is this phenomenon. Ohhhhh unhhhhhh. What are these sounds escaping my mouth. Before I knew it, the feeling became overwhelming. I felt something coming. My hosts feet previously firmly planted on the ground, curled its toes. My abdomen contracted and then a RELEASE. I opened my eyes as she wiped something. She placed her mouth on mine again and said “thanks”. Before immediately fleeing.

What was that? What is this experience. And why does it feel so good?

I need to understand more about what this appendage does. I wonder if that tiny male human that was with “me” earlier might want to do the same activities with his appendages. I try to recall his identification. Cmon I knew I heard him say it. Lex, Ale, Alex….Alex? Yes.

I picked up the messaging device and snapped an image. I copied the text the woman sent me. “Come over”. Maybe that’s how humans that want that activity communicate it to one another.

Almost immediately the device buzzed.

“Oh bro I didn’t know you rolled like that too?”

What do these words mean? I don’t want him to out me for acting outlandish…okay I can do this.

“Yeah bro. So are you cuming?”

A hand with a thumbs up appeared above the message appeared? What does this mean? So much to learn about this planet. I better start learning if I want to blend in.

The door was never closed after the woman left and a one pound happened on the already opened door. Before I could approach it to see who it was. Alex was there at the door. I could see the same energy the woman had in his eyes. He slammed the door behind him and unclothed himself with haste. He also had an appendage hard like mine, but smaller. Was my body considered an alpha amongst men?

He approached with eagerness but also a tenderness, unlike the woman. I put my mouth on his like she did to me. I was about to show Alex everything I’ve learned about earthlings.

[captainjamster]

Pairing(s): 141 x Reader Warnings: mentions of (pixel) animal death, butchering of a pixelated cow (rip thank u for ur sacrifice) Wordcount: 2.3k Summary: How I think you would get the boys into Minecraft and/or what it would be like playing with them. AO3 Link: Right here! <3

A/N: Hello why yes, this IS my first post in four months despite the mountain of unfinished fics I have xD I will edit any errors out of this later, but I'm making myself post this because I'm tired of avoiding uploading until something feelings perfect lol

We're pretending Mojang is competent so ignore any inaccuracies to how Minecraft actually works <3

Full fic under the cut <3

Price just plays to amuse you, but he becomes competent at the game ridiculously quickly. Yes, he might jokingly be an old man, as his favourite youthful commander would put it – but this ‘old man’ can learn new tricks, and he’s pretty sure some of the technology he works with would make a civvy’s head spin. Though he’s unfamiliar with most video games and consoles, sacrificing his youth for service, that doesn’t mean he hasn’t heard of them or played a game or two. John will admit; he doesn’t see much point in it, but adores the excitement you glow with as you’re adventuring and building.

“Alright, so it’s w, a, s and d to move, right? And then the space is to jump.” Your hands barely stretch over his, guiding them to the keys.

“S’easy enough, I suppose,” he rumbles, giving you that smile that crinkles his eyes. You resist the urge to kiss them as he adjusts his hands over your keyboard, giving the buttons experimental taps and watching how the screen reacts.

“Yep, and then you use the mouse to control your head, look around and stuff.” You nudge it over to him, and he gives it a shake before looking around.

“More bloody blocks. What’s that thing, there?”

You squint, looking closer. “A sheep, don’t worry about it. You want to try moving around?”

Once you’ve taught him the basics, his rapid acclimation to the games and controls are jarring. While he doesn’t become some Minecraft speed-runner pro, he’s an equally capable player in fights and foraging, and your base is ridiculously plentiful. You’re never lacking resources, and although he never mentions it, you can see John bloom with pride from the corner of your eye whenever you praise him for the neatly organised provisions.

You have to laugh at his suspicion of everything – “is this hostile?”, “this one hostile?”, “s’hostile one?” – and the way he takes protecting you seriously, scolding you for not wearing armour and giving you his own until he can make more.

The first time his dog dies, you think it might be over for your Minecraft run. He goes silent, aggressively hitting the keys as he slaughters the mobs around you, only speaking up when the area is clear. “I didn’t know that would happen,” he mutters, picking up the dropped loot as you make a sympathetic noise. When you log on the next time, waiting for John to come back with snacks from the corner, you don’t mention the small fence with a sign reading ‘Price Jr’ tucked into the oak trees at the edge of a pond – but the next time you check it, there’s another daisy swaying in the wind next to yours.

-----

Gaz knows what Minecraft is AND he’s played it – you’ve even played it together before. This boy is a gamer, and he’s down for a night of co-op couch games and take away with a cosy blanket if you are too.

Though he tries his hardest not to let it show around you, Kyle is aggressively driven in becoming competent, and that includes in video games. You never have to worry about dying, although it becomes a little frustrating when his experience level is more than triple yours – but you can’t even stay frustrated, you learn, as he unfalteringly drops his items and starts building a dirt stack that he jumps from, exploding into clouds and XP that floats towards you with a light, twinkling chiming. When you scold him for doing something so unnecessary, he gives you a kicked puppy look over his shoulder, pouting up at you. “I didn’t want you to wait for me to make a mob farm!”

Unlike Price, this man IS a Minecraft pro – he’s pulling out the water bucket to save you from falling, using beds to fight hostile mobs in the underworlds, zooming around with fireworks and an elytra to find that rare, specific coat of cat you’ve been running across the map looking for. You’re pretty sure that he could’ve beat the Enderdragon twice as fast if you weren’t there, but he still insists you were an equal champion of the fight as he proudly places the dragon head on your trophy wall.

Gaz is always prepared when the 6-month Minecraft fever hits and you make a new server. He’s sending you pinterest links of cute house ideas, making comments about adding another coop for the chickens and a pond for turtles. Hell, he’ll build them with, or even for you, if you want him to.

Playing with him can sometimes be similar to one of those youtube tutorials that cut back to a clip after some ‘offscreen building’ and they’re standing in front six life-scale cathedrals and a replication of Mt Everest – each time you log back on, you swear he’s expanded your base by another chunk, and you can’t even be mad you didn’t get to do anything because your world looks GOOD, and Gaz makes damn sure of it.

He has just about everything you can think of, and if not? There’s a sign next to his bed for you to note anything missing. Your main base is situated within a town of villagers with minecart roads and furnished houses, bakeries, animal centres, banner and dye stores – hell, he’s even built a zoo and an aquarium for the animals you can’t tame. All of your pets have names that he refers to fondly, each with their own little houses in a miniature version of the village. Despite the effort he puts into housing them, Gaz is a menace to the villagers – bad deal? Executed, or imprisoned at best. Sometimes logging onto for a session turns into a dramatic medieval roleplay as you dutifully play the executioner, triggering the trapdoor to give way to the pool of lava while Gaz finishes dramatically reciting the villagers’ crimes from a book - gives the ones that get to live names like ‘village dunce’ and ‘emerald hoarder’.

When you do build by yourself, he’s your project advisor throughout the process, patiently supplying the materials and helping you with the details. “Babe, this doesn’t seem right,” you grumble, head in your hands, “can you please come look?”

He’s quick to slide his chair across to yours, leaning on the sides. “This one,” he announces after a quick scan. “You added an extra block.”

You recount again, letting out a groan as you start breaking the blocks, and Gaz dutifully rolls back to help you. He’s your partner in crime, complicit in indulging your abandonment of any appropriate sleep schedule, staying up until he calls out your name to find you asleep, drooling on the keyboard.

-----

Soap does not give a shit until you mod the fuck out of it.

Yes, he knows what Minecraft is, thank y’very much bonnie, but he just doesn’t care for games that much. Like Price, his youth was spent either trying to get into the military, or actually being in it. The only games he’s entertained are his small selection of first-person shooters he plays occasionally off deployment that you can never beat him in. The topic first comes up is over dinner after a call with Johnny’s family, as he’s grumbling between bites.

“My sisters weans play all sorts ‘o stupid games, bloody bite my head off if I call ‘em the wrong thing – Minecraft, Roblox, aren’t they all the same?”

“Aren’t all shooter games the same, by that assumption?” You point out to his distaste, and he makes a face at you, reaching over the table to steal a bite of your food.

The next day, you pull up Minecraft for him to properly check out. Johnny isn’t particularly enraptured by the charm of the game, but he perks up when you mention the redstone mechanics. “So, it’s really just all block-y? And ye smack things wit’ yer hand?” He frowns, leaning against the back of your chair.

“That’s one part, yeah. But you run around and gather resources, by mining and stuff, so you can craft and build better things to survive – you know – Mine, craft. Minecraft.”

Johnny scoffs, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. “Y’think I’m daft, now? Taken too many knocks to the head, aye?”

“Let go of me, you’re going to get me killed!” You squawk, and he lets you struggle for a moment before he kisses the top of your head and releases it, wandering into the kitchen for what you assume is a snack, knowing Johnny.

The next time he takes interest, you’re still up when he stumbles in blearily, rubbing his eyes. “Bonnie? Yer not really still playin’ this, are ye? Y’haven’t even slept?”

“I was going to sleep soon,” you huff, turning back. “I just need to get a few more things and go back home.”

There’s an incredulous noise amongst footsteps over your shoulder, and his voice is suddenly a lot closer in your ear. “Soon? S’five in’ the morn’ bon, are ye just gon’ sleep the day away?’

You pause the game, spinning the chair around to meet him with a glare. “Why are you up this early?”

“International meeting, don’t go changin’ the subject.” He spins you back around despite your protests, leaning back upon your chair once again and peering at the screen. “Cannae see what yer enjoyin’ about this.”

“Wh – I mean, it’s not like last time. This time, I’ve downloaded these files that modify the games contents, and there’s way more crazy shit. You can mod it so much it’s like a new game.”

Johnny makes a noise of interest, dropping down to settle against your shoulders. “Really now?”

“Yeah, like look at this. I’ve got a gun in the game.”

A shotgun appears in your hand as you scroll to the hotbar tab, and you shoot a shell into the ground, listening as Johnny clicks in appreciation, surprisingly satisfied after his scrutinising. “Alright, show me ‘er properly.”

He hovers over the chair for a few more minutes, taking in your overview of the mods. “Oh, and this one! Hang on, look.” You hit a cow, and Johnny watches as it falls to the floor. Grabbing the body, you drag it over to a pixelated hook, and show him how you break the carcass down through the stages, collecting parts down to the bones.

He makes a noise of interest. “Si would like that. Can ye play with other people?”

You spin around to give him an excited grin, feeling the sleepiness retreat with your rapidly building enthusiasm. “Why, you want to join?”

Johnny scoffs, but there’s no hiding how his eyes gleam as a smile tugs at his lips to mirror yours. “Only after I finish the meetin’, and y’get some decent fuckin’ rest.”

-----

Ghost doesn’t care until Soap asks him to play.

When you originally ask him, it’s a late evening, and he’s curled up on the bed with a book as you deliver the question. There’s a pause in the turning of pages, and you get the usual dead-eyed stare when you say something he thinks is stupid over the edge of his book. ‘Y’want me to play a kid’s game?”

You give him your own scrutinizing look back, before turning back to the screen. “It’s not a kid’s game, Simon. Video games aren’t just for kids.”

He doesn’t press the topic any further, but you know his mind is often unchanged - so it’s a nice surprise when he brings it back up again a month or so later over the quiet chatter of some foreign film he’s watching, stirring you to look up from the words of your book.

“Oi, what’s that game y’were talkin’ about? Bloody… Mineshaft?”

You think Simon knows perfectly well what the game is called, but you humour him, pulling the blanket down slightly to look at him. “Minecraft?”

He snorts, leaning back into the armchair. “Yeah, s’one. Johnny’s bird got ‘im into it, won’t stop yappin’ ‘bout it now.”

You hold your breath, doing your best impression of nonchalance, directing your gaze back to the book. “Oh, yeah? That’s nice, sounds like he’s excited about it.”

Simon gives a non-committal grunt, but you can tell his focus is beyond the screen he’s looking towards. “Asked me t’play it with ‘im, bloody bastard. Said ‘e’d paid for a server or some shite.”

Excitement explodes in the back of your mind as you mentally praise your husband’s co-worker, thanking him for his influence as you steady your tone. “Well, why don’t you?”

He snorts with a cross of his arms, holding the remote against his chest. “Don’t know how to do all that rubbish.”

You close the book, sitting up and waving off his statement assuredly. “I have it installed already, you don’t have to do anything – oh, but can you ask him if he’s playing with mods?”

He’s not impressed with the request, frown deepening. “What, ‘m I your personal messenger now?”

But you’re onto him already, guiding the topic back on track. “Alright,” you give him a dry look, “give me his number then.”

The show pauses, and Simon looks back at you. It takes a moment, but you know you’ve won with a roll of his eyes, grumbling under his breath as he pulls his phone out and passes it to you after another message comes through.

>> Bonnie got me a whole folder of mods. Liek a whole nother game. Yer gonna play minecraft with me?

“So what?”

“Okay, well that’s easy to set up.” You pass the phone back to him, settling into your comfy nest of blankets. “So?”

“Are you going to play with him?”

(A month later, there’s another desk snug against yours while Simon fumbles with his screen settings as a broguish laugh comes from the headset, and Friday nights are something you’re realising you’ll never get back from that goddamn pixel game)

Headers and Dividers by saradika-graphics

[stellamancer]

notes: time is a construct that bten!reader no longer understands. anyway, yes hellow, late gojo birthday fic that i am pretending that i'm not posting on megumi's birthday LMAO.

takes place in the same universe as beyond the unending night, however reading that fic is not necessary, all you need to know is that reader has a CT that can rewind time. slight and implied reader x gojo if you're squinting. also. reader is very unreliable narrator (there are some things in the narration that gojo responds to because reader is unaware they said it aloud oops.) not proofread.

wc: 944

“Your birthday was a couple days ago?” 

Gojo tilts his head toward you, expression passive for a split second before a broad grin spreads across his face. “It was! How did you know! Wait, let me guess, you—”

“The students,” you supply flatly before he can make any outlandish suggestions regarding how you happened across the information. “Yuta-kun mentioned it.” 

There’s a slight pucker to Gojo’s lips, but it’s gone almost instantly as he remarks. “Oh Yuta… He’s always been an exemplary student! Even going so far as to remember his dear old teacher’s birthday…” 

You stare at Gojo. There’s a trap here. Bait. It’s not well hidden either, if his exaggerated tone is any indication. You consider telling him straight up: it’s not possible to remember something you never knew in the first place. But instead, you decide to indulge him. “Do people usually not remember?” 

Now that you say that, you find the words hard to believe. You can barely call yourself a part of jujutsu society, but there’s no denying that Gojo is something of a big deal. There’s no way that these illustrious ‘higher ups’ would forget the birthday of someone as important as Satoru Gojo.

“It’s not that they don’t remember,” Gojo says, “it’s that they just don’t care.” 

The nonchalance in his voice stuns you, more so than the fact that you cannot detect even a hint of bitterness in it. They… don’t care? You want to be in denial, to think that that simply cannot be true. And yet…

You cannot deny it. 

Not when you know what you do of the top brass.

“Well, not the students,” Gojo adds, fondness seeping into his tone as the tiniest smile pulls at the corner of his mouth. “Threw me a party and everything. As expected of students of the Great Teacher Gojo!”

He puffs his chest out a little, clearly pleased, no doubt proud. 

“...did you do anything else?” you ask. Knowing someone as whimsical as Gojo, you can imagine him spending the day as he pleased, going from sweet shop to sweet shop spending exorbitant amounts of money on any and every sugary item he could possibly get his hands on. 

“Nope.” 

You blink at him. “What.”

“I was waaaaaay too busy to do anything else,” Gojo says with a dramatic sigh. “Honestly, I’m lucky that the students love me so much that they took on a couple extra missions just so we could party for a half hour.”

Gojo’s words have you gawking at him, slack jawed and in awe. You’re well aware that he’s a busy guy, but to only have had a half hour of free time on his birthday to celebrate is just…

“Don’t make that face.” His voice is quiet. Gentle. “It’s fine; I’m used to it. Just a part of being an adult, you know?”

He’s not wrong, but… 

Somehow, it doesn’t sit well with you. 

“....you’re done with everything you have to do today, right?” you ask, reaching into your pocket to check the time; it’s nearly midnight.

“Yeah?” Gojo answers, and while he sounds mostly amused, you think you can hear the smallest hint of confusion. “You thinking of having a late night snack together to make up for missing my birthday? How romantic of you!” 

“Not exactly,” you shoot back without missing a beat, but Gojo doesn’t seem to be disappointed by you rebuffing him. You outstretch your palm toward him and he inclines his head down slightly to show that he’s looking down at it. 

Gojo hums. He knows what you’re thinking. Of course he does. “You know that’s technically against the rules.” 

“And?” you ask as you stare back at him.

“You could get in biiiiiiig trouble, you know.”

Your gaze doesn’t waver.

“Could even be sentenced to death for it!” 

Your hand doesn’t move.

Gojo tilts his head to the side before heaving a sigh and shaking his head. He raises his hand, but rather than take yours, he reaches up higher and moves to flick your forehead. That would work just as well, and for a split second you gather your cursed energy, ready to use your technique, but—

You merely wince and Gojo tilts his head to the side, raising an eyebrow as your energy quickly dissipates.

“Change your mind?” he asks.

“Wasn’t sure if you were actually going to do it,” you answer honestly. Did he actually flick you or did he just ‘pretend’ to? There wouldn't have been any point if he pretended. 

“What do you think?”

You frown as a playful, yet menacing grin spreads across Gojo's face. He knows full well that you can't tell, especially if you can't even see the point of contact. 

“Well wishes aside, the only other thing I can really offer you is time,” you deadpan. It wasn't like you were going to be stupid and give him a week or even a month, but…

Gojo wags his finger at you, tutting. “No, not true! There's something else!”

You give him a pointed look. What else could you possibly give? 

“Well, it's really more like an IOU,” he explains airily, before his tone shifts, growing quieter and more serious. “Just get stronger. Strong enough to take on missions just like me and maybe next year we can have a longer party.” 

You sigh. His suggestion is more practical, more useful in the long run, and while you can agree with what he's proposed… It's his birthday. He could afford to be a little more selfish. 

“Oh?” He raises an eyebrow, his smile ever wide and absolutely ominous. “I'll keep that in mind next time.” 

[harumasa-wifey]

Hey! Glad that more people who love Zenless are here on tumblr. And I’ve been loving some characters but I’m trying to see if i really like Harumasa. So mind helping me out with some headcanons?

Harumasa with a dragon thiren reader who works a bookshop (and secretly is a proxy) who can summon wings, a tail, and a horn✨

Just general headcanons on how this relationship would be!

Harumasa x Dragon Thiren!Reader

Warning: none, not proofread!

Note: my ass had to skip and skimp through some parts so i was genuinely confused what a Thiren is then i found a post on reddit explaining what it is. Thank you for requesting and having patience!

At first he doesn't look like a guy who would visit a Bookshop so often but he does read books sometimes rather than the papers in office.

After hearing from yanagi that you keep some of the best books around the sixth Street oh well he had to visit

Though you keep your tail and wings hidden most of the time you wear a cloak around you a short one to keep it over your head to cover the horns it's energy consuming to hide them all the time.

You keep your bookstore in the vintage style! It's a good change of place without electronics around. ( A big ass lie)

Of course you were surprised by the first visit of yanagi even and now him got you thinking you might get behind the bars soon.

You really haven't done anything bad being a proxy quite the opposite you have helped people get out of the hollows and often retrieve lost items as commissions.

Your H.D.D is hidden in the storage room which is also filled with different type of books.

And The siblings are also in your contacts it's never bad to have back ups!

Although he was confused why you had your head covered he didn't question it.

He doesn't know why he found himself often around your bookshop it was almost alluring in a peaceful way.

He doesn't read much he often comes here to seek a nap on one of your reading places yet he has the membership to your shop.

Even your bangboo has become all familiar to him, it always knows it's him when there is only one knock on the door. ( He is too lazy to knock twice anyways lol)

Though your cover as a proxy didn't stay for long under his sharp eyes.

Well it's a whatever case now as you and the siblings were excused as a proxy by miyabi herself.

He never outright told you to show him what you actually are but he definitely hints at it sometimes.

And not to mention those pick up lines he drops every now and then from the books and movies he had watched.

Well of course there is nothing to hide from him now anyways. He was amused he has seen many thirens, an oni a cat, wolf and shark. However seeing a dragon was really amusing to him.

Get ready for the absolute amount of ridiculous questions to be asked. He is not holding back.

He definitely read about dragons in the books you have after that of course and his nap time at the shop is more peaceful than ever now.

He might have asked to see your tail sometimes out of curiosity. Feel free to refuse if you don't wanna go that far. But if you let him see he is amazed how well you hide yourself.

He says the horns on your head add to your charm.

He never saw you fight but he has you running around in your bangboo beside him in the hollow.

He definitely takes his power naps with your tail warped around him.

He has read about dragons banishing evil and bringing good luck so now you are named as "Lucky Charm" in his contacts. Only his lucky charm.

[dancingdonatello]

good day! i was wondering if i could get a rottmnt!donnie x reader who makes lots of jewlery and clothing? alot of the fashion items she owns are either handmade or atleast altered in some way to better fit their prefrence

rise donnie x reader

It wasn’t very often that you let Donnie watch you make or adjust your clothing and jewelry. It was for a good reason. He wouldn’t shut his mouth.

“You’re sure you can’t add a pocket for a rocket launcher in the back?”

“Donnie…” You groaned, sending him a look. You were in the middle of making a cute outfit, but of course he had to share his… ‘ideas.’

“What?” He rested his chin on his hand, smiling charmingly at you. “I’m just throwing out suggestions.”

“Unachievable suggestions.”

“Unachievable? Are you saying you don’t have the skill to do it?”

“No.” You sighed, tilting your head back to stare at the ceiling. “I meant more like… why would I ever need that if I’ll never have a rocket launcher?”

“Well, that’s where our partnership comes in. You make the dress with the rocket launcher pocket and I make the rocket launcher.”

“Since when did we have a partnership?”

He gasped, reeling back as if you had smacked him. “Whatever do you mean.”

You rolled your eyes and got back to work.

“Can you make me a ring that explodes?” His hands went onto your shoulders and you nearly jumped.

“Donnie.” You were ready to throw him out. “First of all, why would you ever want something like that? Second of all, how would I know how to make a bomb?”

“Exactly why we need to work together. A collaboration.” His hands moved down to your hips and you squeaked as he moved you over. He forced himself to fit on the chair next to you, grabbing a bunch of jewellery you had already made to inspect them. “With my genius, our combined talent, we would—no, will be unstoppable.”

He pointed down at a pocket you had just made.

“A GeniusBuilt logo would go nicely here, right?”

You shoved him off the chair.

[arandomao3user]

As an Ao3 author, I love giving headcanons that'd probably anger a certain side of the Batman fandom, but I personally don't care because it makes great angst and, again, I'm an Ao3 author and chronically ill!

First up! Dick Grayson, I like the idea of him having ADHD, of course, BUT... joint hypermobility syndrome.

(Joint Hypermobility Syndrome: Joint hypermobility syndrome is a connective tissue disorder. Thick bands of tissue (ligaments) hold your joints together and keep them from moving too much or too far out of range. In people with joint hypermobility syndrome, those ligaments are loose or weak. If you have joints that are more flexible than normal and it causes you pain, you may have joint hypermobility syndrome.)

Chronic pain fits him, don't ask, because as the eldest child with chronic pain and hypermobiltiy syndrome, trust, he has that look in his eye that he's been walking on swollen knees for the past twelve hours, had three mental breakdowns, and is still pushing through because SOMEBODY has to deal with this bull.

That's also the reason he wears freakin' spandex-- only, it's for compression! He wears compression items to help with swelling and pain TRUST, and let me have this because the math maths (it probably doesn't, but let me have this.)

He's got chronic fatigue, he's gotten used to popping dislocated joints back into place, Bruce was so confused how he dislocated and sprained so many bones so quickly when out as Robin. It's genetic, of course, Bruce finds. But he has money, and Dick powers through it all! Till he develops arthritis in his early thirties/ late twenties and actually hates everything because WHAT AND WHY--

---

Next up! JASON TODD! I have no proof, evidence, and it doesn't have to make sense but I like giving him asthma sometimes for the angst potential of if he didn't have it, he wouldn't have died in the explosion.

He didn't die from said explosion, nor JUST the smoke inhalation, but because he had an asthma attack, on the ground, bones broken, unable to breath because his inhaler did NOT survive the blast, if he even had it on him.

And that's why he wears helmet with so, so many filters in it now...

Also, being a street kid who struggles to even get his medication that keeps him alive? Peak angst, being to poor to afford your medication because the American healthcare system is actually trashy garbage.

R.I.P. Jason Todd, you would've loved clean air--

---

ANEMIC TIM DRAKE! But I up you, Tim Drake with Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome (POTS)

(POTS: Postural orthostatic tachycardia syndrome (POTS) is a condition that causes your heart to beat faster than normal when you transition from sitting or lying down to standing up. It’s a type of orthostatic intolerance.)

Read ONE SINGLE FIC/ SERIES with this and I've loved it since because what do you mean he randomly falls asleep anywhere? No, forget your canon, he passed out and people think he just fell asleep... NOpe, he passed out, sorry random lady he was on a date with!

(The majority of people are AFAM but we aren't ready for my trans Tim headcanons yet either.)

(You’re at a higher risk of developing POTS after experiencing the following stressors:

Significant illnesses, such as viral illnesses like mononucleosis or serious infections.

Physical trauma, such as a head injury.)

Ngl, my dude gets a LOT of physical trauma (and mental--) also, losing a spleen? Surgery and at risk of viral illnesses? I'm sorry, but I need him to suffer more because I like when Tim Drake suffers horribly.

Now, despite having this condition, I am no expert, but also his caffiene/ energy drink addiction is from chronic fatigue, he shouldn't drink it, it's not healthy or good for him, but he stopped caring between the spleen loss and whatever the "Drake" run he did was because what even was that name?--

---

Damian is autistic and I will DIE ON THAT HILL--

No, I won't explain and you can't make me.

---

[sir-sunawani]

Starling

Omegaverse

Alpha!Crocodile/Omega!Reader

Inspired by @hannahbarberra162's Emperor's Prize

CW: A/B/O, yandere vibes (unsure if full blown yan yet), dub con (possible non-con I am so by the seat of my pants with this), rough sex, rough everything kind of, mdni

Chapter 4: Punishment

The older gentleman that measures you has such an air of professionalism, you don’t even care you’re almost completely naked. Save for a pair of ill-fitting underwear, you have on nothing else. He lets you stand near the fireplace and works quickly, stating numbers to a younger assistant who has kept his back turned since you were requested to disrobe.

Crocodile watches the whole thing, he may be working at his desk no one doubts he is paying due attention to the process.

“All done. You may redress, young Miss, thank you.” He instructs with a small bow before gathering his things. “I’ll have a catalogue brought in and you can choose what you like.”

You freeze, the large shirt you’d been wearing falling into place only because of how large it is.

“Choose?” You question, looking from a seemingly disinterested Crocodile to the tailor. “I will have options?”

The sound of Crocodile’s pen stops, the tailor going pale at the sudden silence. Something about it unnerves you too, but you aren’t sure why.

“Yes.” Crocodile answers for him, taking a deep drag of his cigar before letting out a long trail of smoke. “You may choose whatever you want.”

Logically you understood what that meant, but you were struggling with the practice of it. You’d never decided something for yourself. Your attendants dressed you, and your clothes were decided by someone beyond even them. Your meals, your breaks, when you slept - you existed within the borders someone else set.

The only thing you ever had the right to enforce was that no one was allowed to touch you. Even the tailor had taken care to barely even graze your skin with his gloves despite the closeness with which he worked.

You decided not to overthink it, and sat down near the fire when the tailor returned with a catalog.

“If you have any questions, I am at your service, Miss.” he says, stepping back and letting you have some space.

You sit and flip through the catalog. There are all sorts of items listed, from uniforms to evening wear. When you reach the accessories, gloves and the like, you go back to the start.

“Do you have things that are easy to put on?” You question as flatly as you can. Asking a question at all feels demeaning, but you don’t want to pick something with complicated clasps on accident.

“Yes Miss. There are a couple sundresses available, which are generally just pulled on over one’s head. Button-up shirts have easily accessible buttons down the front of the garment, you may like those as well.” He turns the pages of the catalog slowly, pointing out various items.

He speaks evenly and carefully, nothing given away in his tone if your questions are absurd or not. It puts you at ease, and you realize after some time that you must have demanded this man’s attention for at least an hour, and he never faltered. With clothes decided he steps over to Crocodile’s desk, and the two finalize things.

You’d chosen two sundresses, two pants and two shirts. The tailor told you that undergarments would be provided and you decided not to point out that while you knew what under clothes were, it’d been so long since you’d been permitted to wear any you weren’t sure you wanted to.

The whole affair started after lunch, and was done by dinner.

For you the day had been long, aside from eating and dealing with the tailor you did nothing else but lounge on the small couch and watch the fire. You didn’t want to walk the grounds in nothing but his shirt, and you didn’t even really want to leave the room in the first place. It was comfortable now that you’d gotten used to it.

Since he took his meals at his desk, you took yours in the room as well. People came in and out in a near steady stream - the only break for him had been while you were being measured.

“After dinner, you’ll have your lesson.” He says when no one else is left in the room with you.

“My lesson?” You question and feel yourself stiffen as you remember before he says it.

“Proper and efficient hygiene.” He answers flatly.

“Right, I… I mean, I didn’t do anything today, I’m hardly in need of a shower.” It’s a weak argument, but you don’t want the eight foot tall alpha to be in the shower with you again. His scent has been enough from this distance.

“You’ll still do it.” He asserts. You should let it drop there, you know, but something coils between your legs at the idea of him being naked again, and it makes you nervous.

“You’ll be standing outside and in-instructing me?” You know the answer before you ask, but you can’t help it.

“No. Tonight I will be cleaning you. Tomorrow you will repeat what I’ve done.” You can hear a tinge of irritation in his voice, or maybe you imagine it. He sounds irritated randomly throughout the day as it is.

“It wouldn’t be very efficient.” You barely say the words, and Crocodile doesn’t even acknowledge what you know he heard. You hear him get up, but you don’t want this. It felt far less humiliating to have the attendants clean you, than it feels to have someone teach you something you should know.

And you do know it. You know what is done and how, you just haven’t had to do it yourself.

“I’m not even dirty it-!” You suck in a breath as your wine glass is lifted and splashed into your face. There’s silence between you and Crocodile, who is carefully and with graceful practice, rolling up the sleeve of his right arm.

“Wuh-why?” You manage to ask, red wine dripping down your skin.

“You needed a reason.” He says curtly. “Now you’ve ruined my shirt, stained my sofa, and wasted my time. You will be punished, and then you will be cleaned.”

“Punished?! You’re the one who threw the wine around!” You shout, pointing at him and watching in slow horror as the wet sleeve of your shirt whips around and flicks wine onto his vest.

“I’m… sorry, I’m sorry, I did not mean to do that, I -.” Panic rises up in your voice, but he cuts you and your panic off.

“You are my guest, and have been treated as such.” His voice has an edge that sits at your throat. “And to repay that, you act like a spoiled brat.”

“I’m sorry, I am, I’m sorry, I-.”

“Silence.” He snarls and you press your lips together. You weren’t ever punished, you didn’t know what to expect. You were sure he wasn’t going to kill you, and it was unlikely he was mar you in some way. You were too valuable, but you didn’t know what a pirate and an alpha would do to you.

“If you do as you’re told, it will go better for you. Take off that ruined shirt and stand by my desk.” He commands and you do as you’re told.

Crocodile walks over and opens his door just a little, saying something to someone outside it before closing it and locking it.

“Put your hands flat on the desk and bend over.” He orders, and you do as you’re told, or you think you have. He presses you down until your chest is flush against the desk and waits until you put your palms flat against the desk.

“If you remove your hands from my desk, I will carry you out of this room and take you into one of the big tents.” He explains, hand still in the middle of your back. “Hundreds of pirates will watch me continue your punishment. Do you understand?”

“No,” you cry, fear starting to overtake you. “No I don’t know what a punishment is, I don’t understand!” Sobbing you keep your hands on the desk. “My hands, my hands stay on the desk!” You almost whimper the words, smacking your hands on the desk. “I understand that.”

You hear a metallic sound, thin metal against thin metal and realize he’s removing his belt. “Spread your legs and lift your ass. I’ll show you what a punishment can be.” He commands.

You do as he asks, stomach in knots, body shivering. You’re afraid you’re going to throw up onto his desk and if you do that it’ll just be worse. You’re already staining pages with tears and the wine that was in your hair.

“Please, I’m sorry,” you can barely form the words against tears and fear, but it doesn’t matter. The leather of his doubled over belt cuts through the air and bites into the curve of your ass, licking a painful strip against your skin. You shriek, more from surprise and fear than the actual pain, and he pushes you harshly back against the desk.

“HANDS.” He growls, and you put them on the desk, shivering and sobbing. “It’s alright. You didn’t know, and it took you by surprise.” He admits, his own hand almost soothing against your back until you calm down a little.

“But now you know. Keep your hands in place.” He warns.

 Crocodile’s POV

Fuck, you smelled delicious once you became afraid. Your scent was good all the time as far as he was concerned, but right now you were divine. He wanted to shove his tongue into your cunt and taste the scent that was driving him half mad right now.

He brings the belt down a second time, eyes focused on the impact of leather against your skin. He wanted to make your ass red and puffy, but he didn’t want to risk any cuts or other more permanent marks. Your flawless skin was going to stay like that until he sank his teeth into your neck.

You were going to be his. You already were, you just didn’t know it yet. You were his the second Buggy had the intelligence to bring you to him. He would have to reward the idiot clown.

He pauses after the third strike, setting the belt down and putting his hand on your ass.

“Tell me why you’re being punished.” He says, his voice almost tender compared to earlier.

You sob and hiccup, this new experience for you is more fear than pain. He’s sure you know what punishment is as a concept, but it’s very possible this was your first direct experience of it.

“I… I got wine on your vuh-vest.” The scent rolling off you has his pants uncomfortably tight. He wants to split you in half with his cock, burying his knot into your cunt until his own spend bubbles out past the tight fit.

He smacks your ass with his bare hand, delighting in the feel of your skin, hot against his palm. You yelp, keeping your hands on the desk. He appreciated your fear of the tent - he didn’t want to share you with anyone.

“And?”

“And… and I was a buh-bad guest. I’m sorry.” You cry.

“Good girl.” He says. “You learned, and this is so you don’t forget. Be sure to say thank you after each one.” He warns.

Your POV

His hand lands, sharp and heavy against your ass cheek, the impact stings.

“Four!” You cry.

“One.” He corrects. “Don’t worry about before now.”

Sniffling you nod. His voice had been so gentle once you admitted your mistakes that you didn’t want him to talk to you the other way again. That was scary, this was reassuring.

Another heavy smack on the opposite side.

“Two,” you gasp as he grabs your stinging cheek in his massive hand, squeezing it. The pleasure from the massage chases behind the harsh sting and addles your mind.

“You won’t be a bad guest again, right?” He questions, punctuating it with another slap. Shaking your head you count out, the sound turning into a soft mewl as he grabs your cheek again.

He repeats the action, but after you count you can’t stop the breathy, “No,” that slips between your lips.

“No?” He inquires, a dangerous tone in his voice. “Are you telling me to stop?”

“No! No, I - I mean… I …” you almost start crying again. “I… It feels weird.”

He slaps your ass cheeks in quick succession, raining down blows so fast it is impossible for you to count. Just as it starts to really hurt he stops, grabbing one red and stinging ass cheek and forcing a sound out of you, that you hadn’t expected to make.

The lascivious sound is unmistakable.

“I’m sorry!” Panic rises in your throat, but Crocodile just turns you over, laying you on your back, your legs dangling off his desk.

The look on his face has you frozen in place. He looks like he’s going to eat you. The golden amber eyes are slit tight, burning as they look down at you.

“You’re turned on?”

“I’m sorry!” You cry, tears running down the side of your face. “I’m sorry I didn’t - I couldn’t - I learned, I swear I learned! I didn’t know, I -!”

Crocodile’s POV

His hand over your mouth quiets you. You shiver beneath him, the look on his face sending an odd heat through your body and once you calm down a little he moves his hand away from your mouth.

“You’re going to get your wish,” he says, his voice dripping with restraint. “But only because it may be after midnight before I’m sated.”

He pushes your leg up onto the desk, pining it in place with his hook. You scream, covering your mouth as you realize he hasn’t impaled you, just restrained your leg with his hook. Terror is making your scent stronger and he can’t take it anymore.

He grabs your other leg by the ankle and pulls you open, exposing your dripping cunt to the air. The smell puts visions in his head of him truly devouring you like a small shivering rabbit.

“No, no please!” Panic claws at your voice and you put your hands over your mound. “Don’t-don’t! You’ll-you’ll lose money if you take it! I won’t-.”

“Silence.” He forces it upon you and you fall silent, hands still covering yourself. “Move. Your. Hands.”

Your face flushes down to your shoulders, but you do as he commands.

“What value you have to the gods doesn’t matter to me.” He says, kneeling down between your legs. “They’re beneath me, so it only matters what worth you have to me.”

The tip of his nose grazes the hair of your pussy, and he breathes in deep, letting the sweet scent soak his lungs before his tongue parts your labia and the tip flicks against your clit. You tense and squeak, unable to close your legs, body shivering for all manner of reasons.

The taste of you is a delight he couldn’t dare name, but the single lick isn’t nearly enough. You’re going to enjoy what he’s going to do to you, even if you haven’t been good enough to truly earn it yet.

Your POV

The first gentle lick sends a jolt through you, but you don’t have time to say anything before his mouth begins to devour you again. His lips press in deep, parting yours and letting his thick tongue press against the slick between your folds. The hot wet muscle sends a strange sensation through you, and you squirm uselessly against his hold on you.

“What - wait, I - whaaaaaat’s this?” You whine, as he licks heavy against your clit.

“Consider it part of your punishment.” He grumbles into your skin. His voice is soothing to your ears, but his actions have you on edge.

Another heavy lick and you can’t stop yourself as your body rolls from the pleasure that ripples through you. Crocodile growls when you move, but doesn’t stop licking your cunt. You reach out, putting your hands into his hair and the growl shifts into a purr.

The new sound relaxes you from head to toe, and with less energy spent on holding you down Crocodile focuses on eating you out. Hungry lips and a heavy tongue urge more and more slick from you, and drag thick, heady panting moans from you.

The airy moans falling from your lips turn into whines as the pleasure builds. You’re squirming beneath him, but since you’re holding onto his hair you’re not squirming away from him.

“Please, please,” you huff, feeling a delicious pleasure coil between your thighs. You’d never orgasmed before. You’d come close, but you weren’t permitted that kind of pleasure outside of your heats, and during them you couldn’t attain it by yourself.

What you knew well was the climb to that elusive precipice.

“I’m close, I’m close, please, please, I’m sorry, please let me! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I won’t - won’t argue again, please, please!” You cry, your body shivering as he brings you closer and closer.

Just before you tip over the edge, Crocodile shifts, plunging his thick tongue into your vagina. He releases your ankle and rolls his thumb against your clit as his tongue curls inside you.

An unintelligible sound is ripped from your lips as pleasure pulls taut every muscle in your body. You can feel yourself throbbing against his thick tongue, each twitch of your own body sending another merciless jolt of pleasure through you.

Crocodile doesn’t stop. Some addled part of your brain thinks that’s fitting, but it does you no good as your overstimulated body jerks and curls.

“Please,” the word shivers from your lips as Crocodile withdraws his tongue from your twitching cunt.

“One more.” He husks, eyes soft and out of focus. “You taste even better than you smell, little starling, and I will drink once more at least.”

He pushes your leg back again, engulfing your breast with his hand and holding you in place as he licks heavy into your slit. All you can do is hold onto his arm as he drinks his fill bringing you to the edge a second time.

This orgasm soaks into your body, making your heart rush even as your muscles seem to relax against it. The pleasure rolls your eyes back and loosens your grip on his arm, letting him press your body into an immovable hold even more than before. Sweat begins to slick your skin and his tongue moves away from your cunt, licking the salt and thin sheen from the crease of your hips.

“Cr-Crocodile… please,” you paw at his arm as he licks up the backside of your thigh.

“Mercy then, perhaps.” He purrs, and his teeth look so sharp, and his eyes look so reptilian, and the scent of sand and honey that surrounds him is thick and sticky, and you can almost feel it pulling your cunt open for him.

“Now there is plenty of reason to wash you.”

[ms-snape]

Hi could you please write an imagine in which snaps and reader are together, reader grew up in a muggle house, didn’t go to a wizarding school therefore doesn’t know a whole lot about magic. Somehow they find out the other has powers and Snape takes it upon himself to teach her everything.

Title: Magic?

Warning: None

Words Count: 2000+

Masterlist

___

Severus Snape was a man who kept his life meticulously ordered—every detail tightly controlled, every secret well-guarded. His flat in Spinner’s End reflected that precision: shelves lined with books on obscure topics, an assortment of jars containing rare herbs and powders, and not a single item out of place. For years, his life had been predictable, secluded, and exactly as he preferred it.

Until Y/N.

She had appeared one rainy autumn afternoon, moving into the house near his with a clatter of boxes and the faint sound of her laughter through the place. He’d paid her no mind at first, assuming she was just another ordinary muggle passing through the neighborhood. But Y/N had a way of quietly insinuating herself into his life, her warmth and curiosity chipping away at the walls he had spent years constructing.

It started with small conversations, then turned into shared cups of tea on dreary afternoons. Severus found himself drawn to her despite his better judgment, captivated by her wit and her ability to see through his sharp exterior without fear. Before long, her presence became a comfort he didn’t know he needed.

But Severus Snape was no ordinary man, and secrets like his had a way of complicating even the simplest of relationships.

The first time Severus noticed something unusual about Y/N, it was during one of their many tea sessions. She had been recounting a frustrating encounter with a nosy coworker, her voice tinged with exasperation, when the sugar bowl on the table suddenly slid toward her without anyone touching it.

Severus froze, his sharp black eyes narrowing as he watched the bowl settle.

Y/N, however, seemed entirely unaware. She simply reached for the sugar and continued talking as if nothing had happened.

The incident lingered in Severus’s mind for days. It wasn’t an isolated occurrence. As their relationship deepened, he began to notice more of these oddities.

One evening, while she was cooking dinner, she muttered under her breath about needing a spoon. A drawer across the room creaked open, and a wooden spoon floated out, landing neatly on the counter. She had stared at it in confusion for a moment before shaking her head and muttering something about exhaustion.

Then there was the time they had gotten into a mild argument. The moment her voice rose, the lights flickered ominously, and a glass on the counter shattered. Y/N had apologized profusely, blaming her clumsiness, but Severus couldn’t ignore the growing evidence.

She was no ordinary muggle.

He debated telling her for weeks, but every time he tried, the words caught in his throat. How could he explain magic to someone who had lived her entire life unaware of its existence? More importantly, how could he tell her that she might possess magic of her own?

As he hesitated, Y/N’s curiosity began to grow. She wasn’t blind to his odd behaviors—the way he seemed to know things he shouldn’t, the strange ingredients she occasionally glimpsed in his kitchen, or the books with titles written in languages she couldn’t understand.

It all came to a head one fateful evening.

Severus had been in his study, absorbed in a particularly complex potion, when Y/N’s voice broke through his concentration.

“Severus, can I ask you something?”

He looked up, his expression unreadable. “What is it?”

She stepped into the room, holding a thick, leather-bound book in her hands. His heart sank as he recognized it immediately.

“Where did you get that?” he asked sharply.

“It was on the shelf,” she replied, her brow furrowed. “I was looking for something to read, and this caught my eye. But… Severus, what is this? It’s not just a book, is it?”

He rose from his chair, his movements slow and deliberate. “Y/N,” he began, his voice measured, “that is not something you should have been reading.”

“Why not?” she pressed. “It’s not like I can understand half of it. But the parts I do understand…” She flipped the book open, pointing to a page filled with detailed instructions for a potion. “This talks about powdered unicorn horn and asphodel. These aren’t… normal things, are they?”

Severus stared at her, his mind racing. There was no more hiding it.

“No,” he said finally. “They are not.”

She waited, her expression a mixture of confusion and determination. “Then explain it to me. Please.”

And so he did.

Severus spent the next hour explaining everything—the wizarding world, Hogwarts, and his own role as a potions master. He spoke of magic and its many forms, carefully observing her reaction as he revealed the truth he had kept hidden for so long.

Y/N listened in stunned silence, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. When he finished, she exhaled a shaky breath.

“So… you’re a wizard,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Yes,” he confirmed.

“And you’ve been hiding this from me the entire time we’ve known each other?”

“I was protecting you,” he said, his tone defensive. “The less you knew, the safer you were.”

She frowned, her gaze piercing. “Safe from what?”

“From the dangers of my world,” he replied. “Magic is not always a gift. It can be a burden—a dangerous one.”

Y/N shook her head, her expression softening. “Severus, I understand why you wanted to protect me. But don’t you think I deserve to know the truth? Especially if…” She hesitated, her voice faltering.

“If what?” he prompted.

“If I’m part of it too,” she said quietly.

Severus’s eyes narrowed. “What are you saying?”

She looked down at her hands, twisting them nervously. “I’ve always had… strange things happen around me. Things I couldn’t explain. I thought I was just unlucky or clumsy, but… after what you’ve told me, I don’t know anymore.”

He studied her carefully, his mind racing. He had suspected as much, but hearing her say it aloud confirmed what he had been reluctant to admit.

“Y/N,” he said slowly, “it is possible that you are not a muggle.”

Her eyes widened. “What does that mean?”

“It means,” he continued, “that you may be a witch.”

___

The morning light filtered softly through the windows of Severus’s flat, illuminating the scattered remnants of the night before: a few spell books left open on the table, a candle burned low in its holder, and a single white feather resting in the middle of the room. Y/N sat cross-legged on the floor, her brow furrowed in concentration as she waved a borrowed wand at the feather.

“Wingardium Leviosa,” she muttered, her tone deliberate.

The feather trembled slightly but refused to lift. Instead, it skidded a few inches across the wooden floor.

“Again,” Severus instructed from his chair, his tone calm but firm.

Y/N sighed, gripping the wand tighter. “I’ve said it at least twenty times. Why isn’t it working?”

“Because,” he replied, “you’re trying to force it. Magic requires control, yes, but also intention. You cannot simply will it into being. You must feel it, allow it to flow.”

She groaned, letting her head drop forward in frustration. “This is harder than it looks.”

Severus set down the book he’d been thumbing through and moved to sit beside her on the floor. His presence was steadying, his dark eyes watching her with an intensity that made her heart race.

“Y/N,” he said softly, his voice losing some of its usual edge, “no one masters magic overnight. Even the most talented witches and wizards stumble when they first begin.”

“But I can’t even levitate a feather,” she muttered, her tone tinged with disappointment.

“Progress is not measured by perfection,” he said, reaching out to gently tilt her chin so she was looking at him. “Every spell, no matter how small, is a step forward.”

She gave him a small, tentative smile, and he allowed himself a rare moment of softness, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

“Come,” he said, standing and offering her his hand. “Let’s try again.”

For the next hour, Y/N practiced under Severus’s watchful eye. Each attempt was met with either a subtle correction or a murmured word of encouragement. When she managed to lift the feather a few inches off the ground, she let out a triumphant laugh, her excitement lighting up the room.

“I did it!” she exclaimed, turning to Severus.

He allowed himself a small, approving smile. “Indeed, you did.”

Unable to contain her excitement, she threw her arms around him, nearly knocking him off balance. He stiffened for a moment before relaxing, his hands resting awkwardly on her back.

“You’re a surprisingly affectionate student,” he remarked dryly, though the faintest hint of amusement flickered in his eyes.

“And you’re a surprisingly patient teacher,” she shot back, grinning.

He shook his head, muttering something about “foolishness,” but the corners of his mouth betrayed him, curving ever so slightly upward.

As the days turned into weeks, their lessons became a regular routine. Severus taught her simple spells first—lumos to light her wand, accio to summon objects, and even reparo to fix the various things she accidentally broke during her practice.

But not every lesson was smooth.

One rainy afternoon, Y/N was attempting to cast a cleaning charm on a spill she’d made. Instead of vanishing, the liquid exploded outward, splattering both her and Severus with tea.

She gasped, horrified. “Oh no! I’m so sorry, Severus!”

He stood there, dripping tea, his expression unreadable. For a moment, she thought he might be angry, but then he let out a deep sigh and flicked his wand, vanishing the mess in an instant.

“Perhaps,” he said, his tone dry, “we’ll revisit cleaning charms another day.”

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh, and to her surprise, Severus’s lips twitched in response.

Despite her occasional missteps, Y/N’s progress was undeniable. With each successful spell, her confidence grew, and Severus found himself strangely proud of her determination.

One evening, as they practiced in the dim light of his study, Y/N managed to conjure a small stream of water from her wand. She let out a delighted laugh, her eyes sparkling as she turned to him.

“Did you see that?” she asked, beaming.

“I saw,” he replied, his voice quiet.

Her joy was infectious, and before she could stop herself, she leaned in and kissed him. It was a fleeting kiss, soft and full of gratitude, but it lingered between them like an unspoken promise.

When she pulled back, she looked at him nervously. “Was that okay?”

Severus’s dark eyes searched hers, and for a moment, she thought he might retreat behind his usual stoicism. But then he reached out, his hand cupping her cheek as he kissed her back—slowly, deliberately, as though he were committing the moment to memory.

When they finally parted, he rested his forehead against hers, his voice barely above a whisper. “You’re remarkable, Y/N.”

Her heart swelled, and she smiled, brushing a strand of dark hair from his face. “So are you, Severus.”

The weeks passed in a blur of lessons, laughter, and quiet moments shared between spells. Y/N still struggled at times—her wand sometimes sparked unpredictably, and her frustration would boil over when a spell refused to cooperate. But Severus was always there, steady and patient, guiding her with a firm but gentle hand.

One evening, as they sat together by the fire, Y/N leaned against him, her head resting on his shoulder.

“Do you think I’ll ever be good at this?” she asked softly.

Severus placed a hand over hers, his touch warm and reassuring. “You already are.”

She looked up at him, her eyes searching his. “You really believe that?”

“I do,” he said simply.

Y/N smiled, her doubts melting away under his steady gaze. For all his gruffness and guarded nature, Severus had a way of making her feel seen—truly seen.

And as she drifted off to sleep in his arms, she realized that magic, for all its wonder and mystery, was nothing compared to the love they had found in each other.

[sjsmith56]

A Family for Christmas

Summary: Bucky’s acts of kindness towards a single mother and her two kids leads to more.

Length: 4.7 K

Characters: Bucky Barnes, named OFC, named OCCs (one boy, one girl), Pepper Stark, Sam Wilson, Sarah Wilson.

Warnings: Abandonment issues, brief mention of domestic violence, sweetness overload.

Author notes: Admit it, this is the dream scenario many of us want for Bucky Barnes. Just enjoy it.

One dark and dreary late afternoon in December

The lineup at the grocery store was long, as the Christmas season had started. Bucky glanced at what people had in their baskets, seeing mostly party food like fancy cheeses, charcuterie meats, snacks of all kinds and some things he had never heard of or seen before. Other than the lady in front of him and himself, everyone seemed to be buying for a Christmas party. The lady in front of him, with a small toddler girl in the child seat, and an older boy looking anxiously at the items she took out of the cart, kept a close eye on the tally. When it got to $95 and she saw how many necessities were still on the conveyor belt, she sighed at the boy.

"I'm sorry, honey, we won't be able to get the snack mix or the kids' cereal," she said, then looked at the cashier. "Could you remove those from the tally, please? I only have $100 to spend." The cashier frowned at her. "I'm really sorry."

"Keep it on," interrupted Bucky. "I'll pay whatever is over that amount." He looked sympathetically at the woman. "I know what it's like to not afford things."

Her lips trembled, then she swallowed, but she nodded her head and whispered. "Thank you."

After everything was put through, the amount owing was $123.45. Bucky peeled off two twenties, then said to give the change to the lady. When she started to protest, he smiled at her again.

"It's alright. You take your kids to McDonald's or something."

"Thank you again," she whispered. "You're a kind man."

He smiled at her, watching as she pushed her cart out the door. Her son kept looking at Bucky until they were outside, then he heard the boy just before the sliding doors closed.

"Mom, that was Bucky Barnes."

Smiling, he watched while the cashier rang his things through, paying cash for his bag of groceries. As he stepped outside into the chilly December air, he could hear a car being started and failing. The person tried several times, then there was the sound of crying and he walked towards it. It was the mom, sitting behind the wheel, weeping. Her son was leaning over from the back seat, trying to comfort her while the little girl looked like she was going to cry at any moment. Walking up, he knocked on her window and smiled as she lowered it.

"I could hear you trying to start your car," he said. "Would you let me take a look at it?"

"You've already done more than enough, Mr. Barnes," she began, flustered, as she wiped the tears from her eyes. "I'll figure it out on my own."

That brought a smile to his face.

"The thing is, you don't have to," he replied. "I'm offering and it's going to cost you to get someone to have a look. It's getting dark and I don't like the idea of you and your kids sitting here in a parking lot waiting. Please, let me help."

"Okay, let me just pop the hood," she said, reaching below the dashboard for the release mechanism.

He lifted it up, pulled out his phone and activated the flashlight, looking at the engine. Then he went back to the window.

"What's your son's name?" he asked. "I'd like to borrow him to hold the light up so I can see what I'm doing."

"Liam," she answered, then she looked back at her son. "Would you help Mr. Barnes?"

He grinned at his mother, then opened the door. Bucky shook the boy's hand as if he were a grownup.

"Would you hold the phone up so that the flashlight is on where I need it?" Liam took the phone and aimed it to light up the area while Bucky began checking the wiring. "When I was a boy, it was a tough time for families. People got sick and died, some men lost their jobs and took to the road to find work, leaving their families behind. It was important for friends and neighbours to help those who needed it. I don't know how many times my mother made extra and sent me with food to a family that needed it."

"My dad left," said Liam, bluntly. He looked up at Bucky. "Said he didn't want to be a dad anymore because it was too much for him. I heard him tell my mom one night and, in the morning, he was gone."

Bucky hesitated, sickened at what he just heard. "I'm sorry. That makes you the man of the family now and that's a lot for a boy your age." He looked over at the woman. "Try it now." It still didn't catch, and he put up his hand for her to stop. "Does she have a job?"

Liam nodded. "Part-time so we don't have as much money. She cries every night after she gets home and Grandma leaves. I'd find a job but I'm too young." He wiped his eyes. "Why did he do that? Why did he stop loving us?"

"I wish I had an answer for you," said Bucky, "but I don't. I'll tell you what, Liam; I'm going to talk to some friends of mine and see if we can help you out, okay?"

He found what he thought was the problem and asked the mom to try again. This time the engine caught. Taking his phone back from Liam, he closed the hood and walked the boy back to the back seat door. Then he leaned down.

"I found a loose wire and fixed it, but it may come loose again," he said. "If you want, I can come over and do a better fix during the day. I'll give you my number and you let me know, okay? I wouldn't turn your car off before you get home, so maybe go through McDonald's Drive-Thru for dinner."

The woman swallowed and looked up at him, almost ready to cry but she nodded, and unlocked her cell phone, offering it to him. As she drove away Bucky memorized her licence plate number and made a phone call. After a short conversation he hung up and drove back to his place. He had some homework to do.

The following morning, he received a phone call from the mom, Lorraine, telling him that her car wouldn't start.

"I hate to be a bother," she said, "but I need it for work, and I can't afford to get it fixed at the garage."

"It's no problem," replied Bucky. "I offered. Give me your address and I'll come over."

Half an hour later, he arrived at her place, noticing the house had a For Sale sign on it. Lorraine met him at the door, all bundled up, then said she would open the garage door from inside. After meeting him inside the garage she retreated back into the house. The car had the hood up, as it appeared Lorraine tried to fix it herself before phoning Bucky. In the light of day, it was obvious the car was worn out. Carefully, he checked all the connections, tightening what he could. He started it up, let it run for a bit then stopped it before trying again. This time there was nothing except for a clicking sound and he sighed; it was a bad alternator. He could buy another one and install it but from what he just saw of this car there were other parts ready to fail. Taking his phone out, he phoned the number from the evening before.

"Hi, it's Bucky. I'm at the lady's house, trying to get her car started. It's worse than I thought. The car's old and worn out, and even though I can fix the immediate problem it's just a matter of time before the next part fails." He listened for several moments. "Her house is up for sale. I haven't talked to her about it yet but she's definitely in a tough position." The person on the other end of the call must have suggested something because he nodded his head. "Alright, I'll give it a try, but I would rather be the one tracking down the husband and making an example of him."

Removing the keys and lowering the hood, Bucky went to the front door and knocked on it. Lorraine arrived with her toddler on her hip, looking hopefully at him. He gave her the keys grimly.

"It's the alternator and I can fix it, but that car is already falling apart," he said, as kindly as he could. "It's only a matter of time before something else fails on it."

She swallowed, nodded her head and turned away so he wouldn't see her tears. Digging into his jeans pocket, he pulled out a clean handkerchief, offering it to her. That set her off and she walked back inside crying, leaving him at the door. Reluctantly, he entered and felt his heart break at what he saw. There was only a couch and end table with a lamp on it in the living room, no furniture in the kitchen or dining room. The couch had a sheet, blanket, and pillow on it. It was cold in the house, which explained why she and the toddler were dressed in several layers of clothes. As she sat on the couch, she wept for several minutes then gathered herself.

"It's been six weeks since my husband left us," she said, her emotions making her voice crack. "He took the car, cleaned out our savings and said he had enough of being leeched off of. Blamed us for all of his troubles, like we were the ones who got him fired for drinking on the job. I had another bank account that he didn't know about. I used that money to buy the car, as it was all I could afford. My mom looks after the kids when I have to work but she doesn't like it when I work an evening shift because it means she has to go home on the bus in the dark. I don't even get full time hours and there's no benefits. If any of us gets sick ...." She stopped, taking several long breaths to calm herself. "I've sold almost every piece of furniture in the house, except for this and the kid's beds. I sleep here on the couch. The heat is turned down to barely enough to keep us warm at night. I applied for welfare but because I co-own the house and have a job, they say I'm ineligible. I don't know what I'm going to do."

She looked up at Bucky, as he stood in front of her. He saw in her eyes something he hadn't seen since he was a boy during the Depression. It wasn't just despair; it was desperation. She was at the breaking point. He gestured to a space next to her on the couch, only sitting when she moved over for him.

"I was a boy during the Depression. I saw the worst in people, but I also saw the best, often from my own family. No matter what I went through since then I've tried to live by that since I became a free man. After I saw you last night, I gave your licence plate number to a friend, and we've already put things into motion to help you. Until we get everything in place I'll do what I can for you. One of the first things we'll do is to get you a reliable car. The one in the garage isn't it. So, we're going to pick up a rental. It will be paid for by my friend."

"Okay." Her voice was shaking. "How will I pay your friend back? My job isn't the best paying. It's a struggle to keep a roof over our heads."

"You don't," smiled Bucky. "She can afford it. As for your job, we think you should quit and focus on taking care of your kids and your personal life. She's going to hire you herself but is trying to find the right position that will allow you to have a work / life balance as she's a single mother herself. You know what she means?"

Lorraine nodded her head. "Thank you. I don't know what to say."

"There's more," he smiled. "We've put someone into finding your husband." She looked alarmed. "Not to make him come back, but to make him accountable. He cleaned out your savings account, so it's only fitting that he gives you sole title to the house. We're looking for a place for you and your kids, your mom, too, if you want. Until we get you moved into that new place, you crank up the heat here. I'll help you get some more furniture, a TV and maybe one of those game systems for Liam. He's a good kid and I can tell he wants to help you as much as he can."

"You would do that for me?" she asked, ready to cry again.

"Not just me," he smiled, then placed his arm around her shoulder and squeezed it. "My friend assigned me to be your helper. So, how do you feel about doing some furniture shopping, then I'll take you and your little miss for lunch before we pick up your rental car?"

If gratitude could be measured, Bucky was sure Lorraine was overflowing with it. Perhaps it was just knowing that someone cared enough to help, without expectation of repayment, that made her face light up in a way that made him feel good. They bought some necessary furniture, including a new bedroom set for her, and for the dining room, to be delivered first thing the following morning. They picked up a television set and game system as well. By the time lunch was finished, Bucky received a text message that the rental car was ready for pickup along with some other necessities that would be waiting. He felt like Santa Claus, after giving Lorraine a bank card with some funds already deposited that would allow her to look after herself and her kids until she started her new job. When he brought the television and game system to the house, he was met by a Stark Industries technician, who set it up for the family.

"Go pick up Liam from school, get some more groceries, and don't worry about money," he advised, before he left. "You have my phone number. Call me day or night. I'm at your disposal."

When he did receive a call, a frantic one made by Liam, two nights later, to report his father had shown up at the house, hit his mom, and broken the TV set in a fit of rage, Bucky wasted no time in getting there, quickly dressing, and asking Wong for a portal to the house. His wish to make an example of the father was granted as he entered the house, lifted the man one-handed, and held him against the wall, while instructing Lorraine to call the police.

"Pack some bags for yourself and the kids," he said, as her husband was being led away in handcuffs. "You're staying somewhere else tonight. I'll let my friend know that you need the new place sooner rather than later."

How a man could treat his wife and kids the way her husband had was beyond Bucky's comprehension. If they were his family, he would be beyond the moon to have Liam as his son, Larissa as his daughter and Lorraine for his wife. They deserved so much more than what her husband had subjected them to.

Three weeks later

After locking up the house, confirming it was all cleared and clean for the new owners, then giving the realtor the keys, Lorraine walked back to Bucky's car, not looking back at where she once lived. In the three weeks since she was at the lowest point of her life, she had learned to look forward to the future. Already set up in a new apartment, they had only stopped to meet with the realtor one last time to hand over the keys. Smiling back at Liam, her mom, and her daughter Larissa, she sat in the front seat with Bucky.

"So, where to now?" she asked of the man who had become her friend in that time.

"That's a surprise," he said. He looked back at the kids, smiling at Lorraine's mom, who still didn't quite trust him, then put his SUV into gear. "We have a company function to attend where you'll meet some of your new colleagues and their families."

"Is it a Christmas party?" asked Liam.

"It is," smiled Bucky. "I heard a certain jolly old man might be there."

"Santa." Larissa beamed at Bucky through the rear-view mirror, her toddler voice full of excitement. "I want Santa."

"We'll see when we get there, won't we?"

When they did get there, a prestigious hotel complete with valet service for the car, even Lorraine's mother was awed at the setup for the Christmas party. After checking in at the desk set up outside the banquet hall, Bucky escorted them inside to a winter wonderland, complete with people dressed as elves. It was full of the lights and sounds of Christmas. Larissa, overwhelmed a little, asked to be lifted up and carried by her mother, while Liam stuck close to Bucky, eventually grasping his hand, which pleased the big man immensely. He saw Pepper Stark in the distance and led the others towards her. Her face lit up when Bucky introduced them to each other.

"Lorraine, it's a pleasure to finally meet you," she smiled. "These must be your kids, Larissa and Liam, and Bucky said he convinced your mother to attend. Welcome all of you."

"It's you," gasped Lorraine. "You're the friend who's been helping us."

"Guilty as charged, although it was Bucky who got it going," said Pepper. "He couldn't bear the thought of what you were going through. I was in a position to help, and it was totally my pleasure. When you start in the New Year, you and I will have a good sit-down time together and we'll talk about a lot of things but today, just enjoy yourselves and eat, drink and be merry."

She squeezed Lorraine's hand, then smiled up at Bucky before greeting another attendee and their family by name.

"Come on, let's find a place to sit," said Bucky.

He saw Sam at a table with Sarah and the boys, waved to them and asked to join their table. Lorraine and the kids had already met Captain America in the few weeks since Bucky first met them, but her mother was almost dumbfounded at sitting with the famous hero. It wasn't just a Christmas party, there was also dancing, and a place for the kids to try out the latest in games. AJ and Cass invited Liam to join them in playing video games. Breathlessly asking permission of his mother, she nodded then glowed at how happy he seemed to be included by the other boys. When the band began to play The Christmas Song, Sam asked Lorraine's mother to dance, receiving a giddy acceptance. Bucky looked at Lorraine.

"What do you say? Would you like to dance?"

"We'll have to take Larissa with us," she answered. "I'm not much of a dancer."

"Not a problem," he smiled, then offered his arms to the three-year-old. "Do you want to dance with Mommy and me?"

"Pease!"

With big grins on their faces, Bucky held the toddler between them, then managed to lead Lorraine through the dance. Sarah watched, happy at how animated the super soldier seemed on the dance floor. Sam had told her about the woman's struggles and how Bucky became friends with the family after meeting them at the grocery store. She could see the beginnings of something between the couple, although he was too much of a gentleman to do anything while Lorraine's divorce petition had just been filed. As much as Lorraine and her kids deserved to have a good life, so did Bucky, and Sarah found herself hoping for the best for the tall super soldier.

One year later

The ten-year-old boy was on guard at the door of his bedroom while Bucky wrapped up two presents for Lorraine. The first present was a framed sign made by Liam with decorations by Larissa, and the second present a small box containing something special from Bucky. Liam heard his mother talking about leaving the kitchen and whispered at the dark-haired man.

"She's coming!"

"It's okay, I'm done," said the super soldier. "I'll let you put them under the tree."

Handing them off to the boy, he left the bedroom, heading towards the sound of Lorraine before she stepped out of the kitchen. Stopping in front of her, he placed his hands on her waist and maneuvered her to some mistletoe that was hanging. With an amused shake of her head, she raised her cheek to him for a kiss but was surprised by a full kiss on the lips.

"Bucky, what's got into you?"

"Collecting my mistletoe tax," he grinned. "I'm going to need several instalments."

Larissa tugged on Bucky's shirt. "Me, too?"

"You, too, little girl," he laughed, lifting her up until her head touched the mistletoe, then bringing her down so she could kiss his cheek. "Both my girls need to pay up. Your mom, too, when she gets here."

"Good luck collecting that," joked Lorraine. "She still thinks you're up to no good."

"Not anymore," he thought, recalling the special visit he made to her for her blessing.

Offering his help in the kitchen, he was soon chopping vegetables up for snacking on, as they were hosting several close friends on this Christmas Eve. While he did that Lorraine arranged cheeses and sliced meats on some platters along with crackers. It was easy to assemble and didn't require any time over a stove. With everyone ready, they both changed into something suitable for a family and friends Christmas.

The gathering was enjoyed by everyone present as Christmas songs played in the background, the kids played video and board games while the adults talked of many happy things. When it got close to Larissa's bedtime, Bucky called for everyone's attention.

"Before our little princess heads up to bed, I promised that she and her brother could give their mother a present." He pulled their special present out, handing it to Larissa to give to her mother.

"We made it together," announced Liam, as his mother unwrapped the box, then took out a framed handmade sign that puzzled her at first.

"What does "Say yes!" mean?" she asked, confused. "Is this about getting a puppy?"

"No, Mommy," laughed Larissa, then she reached under the tree for Bucky's present, and pulled him by the hand towards Lorraine. "Go ahead, ask her."

Several of the others gasped audibly, guessing what was happening. Bucky went down on one knee, then showed Lorraine the wrapped second box, holding it in front of her.

"Over a year ago, I met a wonderful lady, her son, and her daughter, on probably the worst day of their lives, but it was the beginning of something wonderful. I found someone that needed what I was ready to give, my love and my commitment. Lorraine, I can't imagine a life without you, Liam, and Larissa. Would you do me the honour of marrying me, becoming my wife, and allowing me to be a father to these incredible children?"

He handed her the box, then watched as she unwrapped it, opened it, and revealed a beautiful solitaire diamond engagement ring. With her lips trembling and her eyes glistening, Lorraine took the ring, placed it on her left ring finger and began to cry.

"Mommy, say yes," demanded Larissa, making everyone laugh.

"Yes, I'll marry you," she answered.

With a cheer from everyone, and Larissa clapping her hands excitedly, the couple kissed then Bucky pulled both kids in for a hug from him and their mother. As the others gathered around them, wishing them congratulations, Sarah Wilson sat and smiled at the happiness that radiated from Bucky's face, making him look younger than he ever did since she first met him. Sam sat next to her and nudged his sister in the side.

"You called that right," he said. "You knew a year ago it would come to this. How did you know?"

"Because they each found something they needed," she answered. "She found someone who was kind and giving. He found someone who needed him to be there for her. It was as plain as the sun shining in the sky."

"Right," he grinned. "So, you think they were meant to meet?"

She smiled at her brother, squeezing his hand. "If you meet the one you want to spend the rest of your life with then yes, you were meant to meet. You just have to open yourself up to the possibilities, Sam. You know that."

He did know that. Offering his help to Lorraine and her kids had opened Bucky's heart and now the man had a family for Christmas. It couldn't happen to a better person.

Later, after everyone had left, Bucky and Lorraine tucked Larissa into bed, then sat with Liam, as he snuggled down under his covers.

"You were surprised, weren't you Mom?" he asked. "Bucky asked me and Larissa first, then Grandma next, if he could marry you."

"You did a good job keeping that secret," she answered. "I was very surprised and I'm going to put your picture up where everyone can see it."

He grinned, then he looked at the super soldier. "Can I call you Dad?"

"If you want, I would be honoured. Liam, I want to adopt you and Larissa. Are you okay with being my son and taking my name?"

The boy nodded his head enthusiastically. "Goodnight, Mom. Goodnight, Dad."

They both kissed him on the forehead, returning the words. As the couple bustled around, cleaning up the last few things from the party, Bucky looked above Lorraine's head, noticing the mistletoe. He stopped her, taking some dishes from her hands and placing them on a counter. She looked up at him, her face glowing with the love she felt for this man who became so important to her and the kids in the past year.

"Final instalment?" she asked, looking at the mistletoe above his head.

"Nope." He shook his head. "That's a lifetime tax, payable on demand."

They chuckled, then kissed, sweetly at first then with more passion and intensity.

"With kisses like that we'll end up with another child very quickly," she murmured.

"If you want," he answered softly. "Do you know when I first envisioned having you and the kids as my family?" He breathed out noticeably. "It was the night Liam called about your ex showing up. I felt such a panic that I wasn't there. I wanted to protect you all from ever being in that position again. By the time we went to the Christmas party I wished for you and the kids to be my family some day." He caressed her hair. "Even though we started living together two months ago, today you gave me the best Christmas gift ever."

Lorraine's eyes were glassy as she listened. She placed her head on his chest while she hugged him, still not believing that this man was hers.

"I wished for the same thing," she whispered, before looking up at him. "You were kind to us from that first moment in the grocery store and it was something that had been missing from our lives. Thank you for being there when I needed someone like you the most."

"Always."

They kissed again, turned off the lights, and headed up to bed, where Lorraine's comment about the quality of Bucky's kisses proved prophetic. By the following Christmas, there was another stocking hung up on the fireplace but that is a story for another time. Needless to say, they both got their Christmas wish and more.

One Shots Masterlist

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[ceo-of-sloppy-women]

No grave can hold my body down; I'll crawl home to her

chapter 6

Chapter 7

“Sevika, slow down!” you demand, your legs straining to keep up with her broad strides. She’s storming through the street towards the grocer, weaving through people and dragging you behind her.

She huffs, slowing her pace marginally, still practically stomping toward the grocer. You eye her with concern – she had been fine a moment ago when she found you, granted she had been grumpy then, too, but not this grumpy. If she notices the weird look you’re giving her, she doesn’t call you out – in fact, she doesn’t say anything at all. She just keeps on power-walking to the grocer, dragging you along behind her by a hand around your arm. If you were more fool-hearted, you would almost call her jealous. Not that you’d call her out on it; you’re fairly certain if you did, her anger would come to a head, and she’d tear a strip off you in public. Or make you sleep in the Last Drop.

You’re not quite sure which is worse.

There aren’t many people in the grocery store, which puts you at ease. The street is swarming with people, and the quiet relief of the store feels like an oasis in a desert. Taking your time, you pick out everything you can think of without Sevika’s help (the most input she gives is when you ask yes or no questions about her cooking implements). Various breakfast items, what you’ll need for dinners, and, of course, tonight’s dinner. You decided to cook with steak, baked potatoes, baked beans and roasted carrots. Much to your delight, the baked beans had been canned by a local resident! You were beginning to doubt if canned beans really lasted longer than nine years.

Sevika remains silent and stormy throughout the entire grocery trip. Even as you’re marvelling at various canned foods, jerky, farm-fresh raw meat and vegetables you thought you’d never see before. No matter how many potatoes you shove in her face, grinning from ear to ear, Sevika continues to grouch. At least she carries the shopping basket for you.

Then, you grab a jar of honey off the shelf… or at least try to. She snatches it out of your hand and places it back on the shelf.

“We have honey at home, darling,” she growls, glaring down at you.

“Oh, so she can speak!” you huff, not quite willing to cave and let her smooth the last twenty minutes over. She can’t just sulk in silence for as long as she wants and then tease you with the pet name Grayson used!  

“Don’t need to waste my money on my own honey,” Sevika mutters, pushing you forward by nudging your back with the edge of the shopping basket.

You huff out a sigh and keep walking, picking up a few more things as you head to the till. Mostly, some spices and garlic to add a little flavour to tonight’s dinner. The silent treatment takes two, and if she wants to be a grouch, you can match her level.

The young woman working the till isn’t sure what to make of the two of you. She tries a friendly greeting, but when neither of you gives her a response more than a head nod, she fumbles, trying to make light conversation while awkwardly checking you out. When neither of you responds, she clams up and avoids making eye contact. The groceries are bagged and purchased in silence – a silence that follows you home.

Sevika puts away various groceries as you swipe back the ones you need for dinner. Her eyes sparkle at the steaks as if she’d expected you to keep them for another day or something foolish. Yet, when you don’t comment on her reaction, she storms off with a glass of whiskey as if she’d been waiting for you to bridge the gap. You, of all people! You weren’t the one throwing a hangry hissy-fit over nothing!

You place a chair in the entryway to the kitchen. It’s not much of a deterrent, but it gets your point across.

Luckily, cooking requires love and concentration. The Sevika’s grumpy attitude melts away from you like the butter in the carrot’s dish. Popping the window open, you let the chirping of birds and someone playing the guitar in the distance filter into the house. It lightens your mood considerably, giving you something to listen to instead of the tense silence of the house. Still playing the silent game, you resist the urge to hum along as you dance about the kitchen, grabbing spices, pots, pans and cooking utensils. A very generous spoonful of honey is added to the carrots and the baked beans, as well as the steak pan. Periodically, you hear banging as Sevika storms around the house restlessly. You shrug it off – if she really wanted back in the kitchen, she can come apologize.

It isn’t until you’re adding the steak to the pan, letting it devour the bubbling butter, salt, rosemary, honey and garlic, that you hear a cough at the entryway to the kitchen. You tilt your head slightly to find Sevika standing just behind the chair. She’s clutching her barely touched glass of whiskey to her chest, shoulders shrunk forward, head bowed, and wearing clean clothes. A button-up plaid shirt with red and black stripes, a white tank top, a purple carabiner and a pair of blue jeans with more than a few holes in them. She’s definitely playing dirty – the unbuttoned plaid shirt draws your attention to her white tank top tucked into her pants. The same white tank top that does nothing to hide the fact she’s not wearing a bra underneath it, her nipples pressing indents into the fabric. If she hadn’t pissed you off so thoroughly, you might have jumped her bones then and there, potential rejection be damned.

“Can I… come in?” she mumbles, as if it isn’t her kitchen, in her house, and you’re not cooking with food she bought with her money.

“Why should I let you?” you bristle, your defensive attitude from earlier rearing its ugly head. You refuse to let her win – even going so far as to purposely fix your glare on her face and nothing else.

“Because… I’m sorry,” she spits like the words taste foul on her tongue.

“For?” you push, minding the steaks so you don’t overcook them.

She sighs heavily, staring down at her drink and swirling it in her glass. There’s a long, silent moment filled only with the hiss of the steaks before she looks up at you, eyes wet around the edges and her lips pursed into a mournful frown.

“For giving you the silent treatment. I shouldn’t have done that – I know how you are with crowds and people and all that. I know better than that,” Sevika whispers, barely audible over the steaks as you flip them over. Your heart aches at her words despite your brain screaming at you to be upset with her. She’s extending an olive branch, are you really petty enough to cling to anger after an apology…?

You scrutinize her for a moment longer than you should, letting her squirm under your gaze until she ducks her head again. It satisfies the prickly thing in your chest that is still upset at her. Finally, you relent and ask: “How do you like your steak cooked?” 

“Rare,” she grunts, moving the chair aside. When you make no move to stop her, she steps into the kitchen, sighing a little that she’d read between the lines correctly.

Her fingers cradle your hip as she looks over your shoulder, glass set off to the side. You can feel her press against your back, the lightest touch that consumes you like wildfire as she hums with approval.

“That looks perfect, sweetheart.”

“It better be, took me so long that it’s dark out now,” you say, nodding your head to the window where the stars are twinkling. “I’m sorry, Sev’, we might not be able to see your bees tonight.”

“Nah, I’ve got two headlamps, we’ll be alright. The bees won’t care much if we take a little peak at them when the sun’s not out… unless you’d prefer to wait until tomorrow? We could always go before my patrol – if you’re alright with getting up before my patrol, that is. It’s pretty early in the morning.”

“How about we smoke something tonight and see the bees tomorrow? I’ll have to get up with you anyway. Vander and Silco told me to partner up with you until my printing press is ready,” you inform her, plating the steaks. They don’t need that long, especially if Sevika wants hers rare.

You let the wording hang in the air, unintentional connotations lacing your poor choice of words.

“Printing press?” Sevika asks, skipping over the accidental bait entirely. You groan internally – she can press her boobs against the back of your neck, but she can’t take the hint that even your subconscious wants to eat her pussy?!

“I used to be an archivist before the apocalypse. I’m already trained in preserving old texts; it’s a fitting job to reprint old books and make new ones. Mostly survival guides and the like –“ you take the carrots out of the oven – “Grayson’s making me a printing press for free if I’ll reprint her romance novels.”

Sevika nearly chokes on the sip of the drink she had dared to take. “Yeah, uh, printing press is a good idea,” she chuckles awkwardly, face flushed red.

“I think so too – it will be nice to have something new to read! I miss books… though finding lesbian romance books was always way too difficult. The market was always oversaturated by straight romances, but finding a good lesbian one felt like a needle in a haystack,” you continue, plating the carrots, beans and baked potatoes.

“Right,” Sevika coughs, scratching the back of her neck. “Had better luck finding a book than a girlfriend, though. Lot of casual, not a lot of commitment back then.”

You nod your head in agreement as you pass her a plate. “Not like it’s much easier to find a girlfriend now,” you giggle, pilfering the silverware drawer for a spoon, fork and knife.

Sevika mumbles something too low to properly make out. You only catch ‘I’ and ‘change.’ The clatter of the silverware as she grabbed herself a set didn’t help either.

“What was that?” you ask innocently.

“Said we should eat outside, back porch’s got a table on it,” she says, face remaining impassive as she nods her head to the door.

“We’ve got to get you a dining table,” you sigh, shaking your head as you step outside.

“Didn’t need one before. Can’t cook,” Sevika grunts, following you outside.

You find an old table outside with a few chairs around it. They’re plastic lawn chairs – the kind that won’t break down for thousands of years. They look to have recently been hosed off, scrubbed down and “redecorated” with various spray-paint colours. You recognize Jinx’s handiwork from a mile away, giggling a little as you take a seat. At least the table is wooden, so it doesn’t buckle under your knife as you cut your steak. Far better than you would have fared trying to cut a steak on your lap in the living room.

Sevika sits down across from you, tucking into her steak. You don’t even notice you’re watching her with bated breath until she freezes, a spoonful of beans halfway to her mouth and furrows her brow at you.

“What? Something on my face?”

“Oh! Shit – sorry! It’s… been a while since I cooked for someone. I guess I wanted to make sure it didn’t taste like ass,” you confess, ducking your head a little to shove a carrot into your mouth. You have to bite your tongue to hold back a moan – your carrots really have been missing honey for the past few years.

Sevika is quiet for a moment, the only sound between the two of you is the clacking of silverware. You shove steak into your mouth to prevent yourself from devolving into a rambling mess of apologies pre-emptively in case she doesn’t like you’re cooking.

“Can you cook dinner every night?” Sevika practically moans, and you blink at her with wide eyes. “I, er, your cooking’s really good. Better than my shitty attempts. Way better. If you get your own place, I might just come over every night for dinner.”

“Well, Silco did say the printing shop will take priority over a house of my own… so I can cook dinner as long as you keep buying the groceries.”

“Careful making promises like that, or I might not let you leave,” Sevika jokes, chuckling to herself as she takes another bite of steak.

You try not to fixate on the fact she said, “if you get your own place,” or how she doesn’t even try to weasel her way out of sharing her house with you. You’re pretty sure if you do fixate on it, it will end with you stripping down to your birthday suit and crawling across the table… which would be super embarrassing and definitely get you kicked out of her house. In a desperate bid to distract your brain, you shove more steak and beans into your mouth, doing your damndest to focus on the taste of your delicious cooking and not the sight of Sevika’s nipples poking out from under her shirt.

Sevika does the dishes without even being asked. You try to help by drying them, but she shoes you away, instructing you to take a seat on the couch and relax. You find yourself fidgeting in your seat, wanting to do more. Dishes clatter in the sink as Sevika rinses them off, putting them away in their various homes. It comes to a head quickly – you bolt from your seat and dash upstairs. The least you can do is change out of your clothes into something more… comfortable (as a little payback for Sevika dressing down). You throw on a sundress that complements your skin and almost reaches your knees, paired with knee-high socks you usually wear under your long underwear in the colder months and a cute but nonchalant hairstyle that frames your face. Satisfied with your little ensemble, you head back downstairs and take a seat on the couch.

It's much easier to wait when you’re giddy with anticipation for when Sevika walks through the door rather than worrying if you should have insisted on helping. You fidget with the dress, adjusting it so that it rides up slightly on your thighs and that the sleeves hang off your shoulders. Maybe it’s a little much… maybe you’re still trying to get some payback after her silent treatment.

When Sevika finally does come to join you in the living room, she freezes in the doorway. For a long and tense moment, she doesn’t speak, and you’re worried you somehow crossed a line. Then her lips split in a smirk and she crosses over to behind the couch. The barest touch of her finger tilts your head back as she looms over you.

She opens her mouth to speak and then a nervous tremor passes through her. The smirk falters into a smile, and she asks: “Do you want to go out for a smoke? I’ve got some stronger stuff than you had last night.”

To say you’re disappointed would be an understatement. Yet, you try not to let her see it – the nervous tremor lingers in your mind, making your heart ache. If she feels more comfortable playing this game of cat and mouse, who are you to force her to move faster? Especially when the game is oh-so fun.

“Is that a promise? I haven’t been able to afford the stronger stuff in ages,” you giggle, resting your head against her inner arm as she continues to tilt your face back.

“’Course it is. Do you take me for a liar?” Sevika gruffs, and you giggle again, kissing her inner wrist gently before standing up. She swallows thickly, pulling her hand back to her side slowly.

“Well? What are you waiting for then?” you ask before flouncing your way to the back porch.

Sevika takes a minute before joining you, making you wait outside in the cool night air, watching the stars in civilization’s warm embrace. You get comfortable on the porch swing, letting it rock back and forth with a soft smile on your lips. The backdoor creeks open, and you barely lift your head as Sevika sits down next to you tentatively. Glancing to the side, you realize why; without thinking, you had only left enough space to your right, forcing her to sit with her most vulnerable side facing you. Her amputated arm doesn’t bother you at all. However, this is clearly bothering her. In an effort to reassure her, you squish closer, resting your head on her shoulder. She freezes for a moment, eyes flickering down to you with a pinched brow, dubbie held between her frozen fingers.

“You going to light that or what?” you grunt, hoping normalcy will smooth the tense moment over.

“Impatient, are we?” Sevika chuckles, placing the dubbie between her lips. The lighter flickers in the dark night, illuminating her face in a warm glow for the briefest moment.

She takes the first drag, blowing it out through her nose. You take it from her fingers as she passes it over to you, pulling a long drag that curls up into the sky upon your exhale. Sevika slowly starts to calm down, relaxing into the porch swing as you melt into her side. Eventually, her head slumps to the side and rests on top of yours as both your bodies become tingly and light. When the dubbie burns out, she squishes it into the ashtray and closes her eyes with a satisfied hum. You mimic her, swinging your legs over top of hers so you are partially sitting in her lap. She chuckles and rests her hand on your legs, thumb stroking your bare skin. Worming your arm along the back of the porch swing, you play with the hairs growing at the base of her skull, twisting them around your fingers.

The night chitters and stretches on, coyotes howling in the distance, horses braying in the stables, and crickets chirping. You sigh with relief, shutting your eyes and letting the safety of Zaun wrap around you. Sevika hums in agreement, kissing the top of your head absentmindedly. In your chest, your heart flutters at the gesture, wanting to push up and meld your lips against hers until your bodies become one. Instead, you remain cuddled up against her side, hand slowly snaking around her torso to hold her waist.

“Sevika,” you start, and she hums in acknowledgement. “I know this is a personal question – so you don’t have to answer if you don’t want. But… everyone keeps avoiding me about how you lost your arm –“ Sevika stiffens against you, her thumb ceasing – “You don’t owe me an explanation. Honestly, I won’t bring it up again if you don’t want me to. I’m here to listen if you do, though.”

“Jeez, you really know how to ruin a perfect high,” Sevika jokes, huffing out a forced chuckle.

“Sorry, you don’t –“

“Nah, it’s alright. Kinda one of those things I don’t like telling people, and I don’t like being asked, but you’re cute, so I’ll let you get away with it. So long as you promise not to tell Jinx.”

“Why?”

“Because she thinks I lost it in the explosion saving her and Vi’s asses, and that’s how she’s going to remember it until she’s old enough to not feel guilty about what actually happened. This is something her dads and Vi decided on – I’d tell the little shit if I didn’t think they were going to murder me for it,” Sevika explains soberly, squeezing your knee.

“I won’t tell her, I promise,” you murmur, continuing to play with the tiny strands of her hair.

“Good,” Sevika grunts, nodding her head. “I lost it back when the world went to shit. I was working at the bar when a few of the patrons turned into the gone. Back then, we didn’t know what an incubator or stumbler even was – people came in sick or ravenous all the time. They paid their tabs and tipped well, who were we to turn them away? But, then that ravenous hunger turned from any food to anything and all of a sudden, Silco was screaming because a patron just tried to eat his leg. Vander got his gun; I ran upstairs to get the kids. That message came through just moments after I’d gotten them from their beds. Powder saw it – er, Jinx used to go by Powder… it’s a long story – anyway, Powder saw the message and started freaking out. I was so focused on her breakdown that I didn’t notice Milo and Clagger were…” she trails of and reaches for another dubbie, her fingers shaking.

You help her light it, your heart aching in your chest. You hadn’t heard those names mentioned before. If this story is going where you think you aren’t sure, you want to know. The infection had two stages before it got bad: incubators and stumblers. Incubators are just sick – fighting off the infection but not yet succumbed. They can’t turn anyone. Stumblers are trapped in their own bodies, ravenous and eating anything (even garbage) with the exception of flesh. It wasn’t until they worsened into “the Gone” that they started eating flesh, with many widely speculating that the person they once were no longer existed.

After a beat, Sevika continues, passing you the dubbie: “Milo and Clagger had been sick for a while before then. We had thought they’d gotten better when their appetites returned. It wasn’t until… it wasn’t until I was up there, too distracted by comforting Powder, that one of them lunged at me, and I knew. Vi helped me fight them off, but I could see in her eyes that those were still her brothers – adopted be damned. We hadn’t even noticed that Powder had grabbed one of her experiments until she had lugged it at the ‘people’ attacking Vander downstairs. Then it all went to shit. I grabbed both of them, trying to shield them from the blast as the bar went up in flames. Vander and I barely got everyone out in a frenzy of adrenaline. Grayson showed up with a police van and shouted us to get in – we didn’t think twice; the bar was burning, and the world was ending. Thought it was a police evacuation at first, until she admitted she’d stolen the van to get people to safety when the police system crumbled. We drove all day and night to get out of that city, the car deathly silent until we were sure it was safe to breathe.”

Sevika’s voice starts to waver, and she breaks off, taking another heavy drag before continuing: “We stopped at an abandoned town for supplies. My arm was killing me, so I rolled up the sleeve and found a fucking bite mark sprouting purple veins. Silco caught me, and the two of us shared a horrified look – we used to watch old zombie movies together on the bar’s shitty little TV during slow days. He kept the kids distracted while Grayson and Vander cut my arm off. We didn’t want to worry them that I was going to turn and they were going to lose yet another family member. So, we told them my arm had been too damaged from the explosion to keep without putting me at risk. Over the years, Powder interpreted that as meaning she’d blown my arm off while saving everybody. We let her think that – it felt cruel to tell her that she’d gotten me infected. Especially when we caught it in time.”

“I’ve never heard of someone preventing infection through an amputation,” you mumble, unsure what to say to that. You know Sevika would not appreciate you saying, ‘I’m sorry that happened to you,’ but you didn’t want to seem like you were avoiding her story.

“Guess I’m just lucky,” Sevika shrugs, offering you the dubbie. You take it and inhale a small drag. “Thanks for listening, by the way. Not many people around I can tell that story to. Not many I want to tell. It feels good to tell someone who wasn’t there when it happened… I swear, sometimes Vander still looks at me as if I could have saved Milo and Clagger. It’s not as if I chose to leave them there! They were infected, and taking them with us would have meant endangering Jinx and Vi! It’s just…” she trails off with a frustrated sigh.

“You wish you could have done more for them? That you’d know before and helped them in some way?” you finish for her, passing her back the dubbie.

“Yeah. That.”

“I know how you feel… my parents were infected. They were – they would have had a better chance out here than me. Mom knew about plants, gardening and survival skills. Dad knew about building, camping and hunting. Some days, it feels like it should have been them instead of me. Some days, I wish I hadn’t circled back to their house and found them…”

Sevika squeezes your knee: “It isn’t either of our faults. Life just happens. Things go to shit and there’s not much we can do about it.”

“We can keep living, that’s a start,” you point out, resting your head on her shoulder again.

“Yeah… that’s all we can do,” Sevika murmurs, exhaling smoke. “You got enough ammunition for tomorrow’s patrol, or do we need to stop by the arms storage before heading out?”

You giggle at how she breaks the tension once more with a non sequitur. “Don’t worry, I’ve got everything I need for tomorrow. Thanks for checking.”

“Would be pretty fucked up if you got bit tomorrow after all that,” Sevika grunts with a light shrug.

[beuxwhoyouare]

Getting Away with It

I almost got away with it. Truthfully, I didn't even know I would go as far as taking him out. But I mean he had it coming, I heard all the horrible things he had done that I could hear through the penthouse walls in the building I worked in. All the times he'd abuse a partner, slur people in the halls, not to mention act like he was a god because he made good money in sales or whatever.

He crossed a line one day, as I saw him nudge someone into the street nearly getting them hit by a bus. So sure was it right to take him out? Maybe not, but did I feel good taking one bad person off the streets...absolutely. Unfortunately, what I did was caught on camera and the legal system takes that narrative with no context and runs with it.

So I mean yeah I almost got away with a drastic good deed. But now I'm here on a life sentence for murder. I like routine in my day and in here the days are so regimented it's not exactly the kind of routine I find myself a fan of. I remained on good behaviour until the guards took pity on me and recommended me for supervised community service aid. Basically, still in jail but instead of working a job in jail, I could go out and help them clean garbage off the side of the road with parolees on the outside and random others doing a "good deed."

That's where I met Jacob. He was on parole for driving while intoxicated. Truthfully, I find that way worse than what I did. Like that feels so selfish...getting behind the wheel while drunk. Despicable. But clearly it's been the catalyst for him to turn his life around. He was in jail for a year and been on parole ever since. He started working out in jail while getting certified as a trainer. There aren't alot of jobs life after lockup that don't discriminate against you for your record so it makes sense that he'd want to do something where you can be your own boss.

We were in the van being taken to the stretch of highway in between developing parts of the city. It's crazy how looking north and south you can see parts of town and smack in the middle there's this road with tall weeds and shrubbery lining it. We were joined by a class of university student volunteers who were advised to keep their distance from us. Something we all sort of ignored since there's so much trash to pick up.

"Hey Lu, I gotta show you this thing this crazy old hippie gave me back in town." Jacob quietly told me as we scoured the brush for bottles.

"Dude we have things to do and I don't really want them to take me off this shift." I begrudgingly replied.

"Nah nah the guards aren't even looking at us they're flirting with the female students over there."

Sure enough our bozo headed guards were chatting it up with some girls that were supposed to be helping us. That's when I glanced over and saw Jacob holding what looked like an antiqued golden coin or rounded stone with a symbol scratched into it.

"The dude gave it to me in a box and said if you hold it in your hand and then make skin-to-skin contact with someone else you like transfer consciousness."

"So I see life on the outside is just as crazy as it is in here."

"You mean to tell me you don't even think it could be a little bit true? C'mon bro this could be your chance to get out out of jail. Shit if you don't try it I might as well. I'm tired of all these probationary restrictions. I just wanna hit restart."

"You're already out. It can't be that bad?" I said as I turned around to see him sneakily hurrying off towards one of the college students.

"Shit what is he doing."

I rushed over to where Jacob was and pulled him by the loops of his jeans to not cause a scene. Stopping straight next to one of the students picking up trash a little bit away from his group.

"Dude I don't know what you're aiming to do but if it doesn't work you're the one that's going to look like the insane paroled convict with an ambiguous item in his hand that could be misconstrued as a weapon."

"Listen, if it works it works, but if it doesn't there's no harm no foul and we can call it all a joke."

Before I could even protest, Jacob turned on his confident charisma to whistle over the nearby student. As the curious student walked closer I could hear the narrative Jacob was intricately weaving pretending to care about what he was studying and if he could tell us both more about it.

"I'm so sorry kid, I didn't even catch your name. I'm Jacob and this is Lu." he said with a devlish smile.

"I'm Mark." he said with a slight hesitance.

"Well Mark you shared so much with me can I share something with you? A party game you can take with you to your friends back at school?"

"Uh sure yeah."

"So you find a smaller coin or stone and one person places their hand on the bottom of it and the other on top. The person with their hand on the bottom has to try to and tap the person with their hand on top without flinching"

These rules made absolutely no sense and why would they Jacob's plan was himbo incarnate. Like it was so dim I could see Mark tense up and begin to shift away back towards his friends. He tried to say goodbye to Jacob but that's when I saw this crazed energy flood Jacob's eyes. The next things that happened felt like a blur in slow motion.

Mark turned around to return to his classmates with haste. Jacob quickly began following without running to not alert the guards yet shouting for him to wait up because it's all good fun. And before I knew it I took off running to stop Jacob from taking advantage of an innocent person.

Jacob leaped at Mark and tackled him to the ground but it's only the moment when I got there to break it up did the guards finally notice what was going on, rushing over.

He pulled the stone out and tried to grasp at Marks leg under his wider legged jean, while I reach out to stop that hand. THEN BAM. Everything became darker and several flashes of light happened.

When I came to the guards were pulling me up. I heard what I thought was Mark's voice saying the one in the jumpsuit attacked him. But I didn't run after him? As things pulled back into focus for my eyes after the darkened haze. I saw Mark being calmed down by a professor and a guard but then I saw who he was point at.....I was my body but I was to the other side.....

My body turned to me matching my confused expression and began crying hysterically asking what was going on. I looked down and saw the confirmation of what happened. I was wearing Jacob's clothing. And if my body's surprised too....then that means....God no!

The guards rangled up the convicts and put them all shackled back onto the van as another came to apologize to the university professor and her class along with "Mark". Another guard came up to me saying he knows that Lu is a murderer and that I didn't start any of this so I was getting a slap on the wrist, especially after "Mark" insisted I tried to stop the attack. The guards left and told the rest of us we could go.

The student approached me with that same devilish smile I recognized from before. His voice coming out unfamiliar in sound but with an all too familiar malice.

"Hey thank you again from saving me from that gruesome murderer mister. I didn't even catch your name. I'm Mark." he said with a wink.

"Jacob what the fuck are you doing?" I frantically asked.

"I'm giving you a way to get away with it all and me a clean start. But I gotta go back to school so here take my number down." the imposter student airdropped his details to me before scurrying away.

I was still in shock from everything that just happened. Like this cannot be real how the hell is this happening. Where do I go okay I can do this. I fumbled through my wallet as I searched for an address to head to. Eventually I made my way to Jacob's place. It was a hotel that was turned into extended stay studio.

I walked into the foreign "home" that was now all mine. My heart felt like it was going to explode out of my chest. This can't be happening that poor kid is now in jail. Oh god....wait. I'm not on the run why am I this stressed. Think think how do I fix this. An exercise ball peaked out from the side of the bed. My new athletic stature made me think maybe catering to it's physical senses could help me breath and calm down.

I did a few crunches but still felt a pang of guilt hitting my stomach. Oh god I need to fix this but where is the coin? I can't leave that kid incarcerated, that's robbing him of his whole life. Almost like clockwork my new phone buzzed with a text.

"Hey. Thanks again for saving me stud." the unknown number made itself known with that context.

"Jacob we need to fix this. That poor kid doesn't deserve this."

"Who's Jacob? This is Mark! And I think I deserve all the opportunity I've worked hard to get. Hey by any chance have bodily urges hit you? I'm not gay but after the incident when I saw you I got realllll hard all of sudden. I think this kid's gay or something."

I was furious reading these texts still skirting responsibility.

"Enough! Where are you we have to talk this is ridiculous."

The phone buzzed as I opened to see a location pin as a picture came in...my jaw dropped.

"Oh you wanna meet irl daddy? Come on over."

I stormed over to the location of the pin…I’m not going to let him get away with this.

[notsocooljess]

something small

Katniss and Peeta exchange surprise gifts on a cozy Christmas morning.

“Spiked eggnog?” Peeta asked.

“This early?” Katniss responded with a grimace.

“Why the face? It’s your favorite.”

“Not at nine in the morning.”

“That’s not what you said last year,” Peeta chuckled, but he put the pitcher away and set a kettle of water on the stove instead.

Christmas celebrations came about after the war, when New Panem hired historians to look up traditions from the past to help bring morale back to the nation. It took a few years to really take hold – frivolous gifts had never been big in the districts, where money had always been better spent on items needed to survive.

But, in time they learned that gifts were not the only thing people loved about the holiday. Coming together over great food, drink, and dance with neighbors had always been loved here. What harm is caused by celebrating old traditions with those you love? With well over a decade since the war ended, people were faring far better than the previous generation could have hoped for, so the cause for celebration had firmly planted its place in society once again.

So, now on the day, they bake and sing and dine and drink. The past few years, Delly, Thom, their two boys, and Haymitch have stopped by in the evening to eat a feast Peeta spent hours cooking up while Katniss pretended to help and nibbled on the scraps. The mornings, however, are reserved for the two of them. Lounging about, playing games, and reliving memories, both happy and sad.

Katniss straightened out a bow on their tree while Peeta attended to the whistling kettle. When they first set up a tree years ago, she wasn’t sure how she felt about cutting it down just for decoration. She hated damaging her woods. She remembered how Peeta had begged her to have it inside and finally convinced her by telling her they would cut the tree apart for firewood after the holiday, and she chuckled at the memory.

A hand waving in front of her face made her jump back.

“Whoa!” Peeta exclaimed, taking a step back to avoid spilling the contents of the steaming mugs in his hands. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you. Did you hear me calling you?” Peeta asked, and Katniss shook her head. “Peppermint or cinnamon tea?”

She plucked the peppermint tea from his hand and went over to sit on their couch. Peeta was not far behind her with his mug in one hand and a tray of speculoos cookies they baked together in the other. He placed the tray in front of them and sat beside her, and Katniss tucked her cold feet under his warm flannel-clad thigh.

He took a sip of his tea and looked at her, his eyebrow arched as his mug made its way to and from his lips. He looked at her like he was waiting for her to confess something.

“What?” Katniss asked defensively.

“You feeling okay? I don’t think I’ve ever snuck up on you in my life.”

Katniss dipped her cookie in her tea and swirled it around. Bits of cookie broke off as it became saturated, spinning in the mini whirlpool inside her mug. This morning, her stomach didn’t seem open to much more than the tea.

She forced a smile and said, “I’m fine. Just thinking.” And she really was just thinking, but Peeta nodded in response as if he knew what she meant. Almost all the time he did, but she doubted he did right now.

They sat in the silence of thought and memory. Snow was flurrying outside, a calm before the heavy storm that was supposed to come later in the week. Katniss was thinking, yes, but she didn’t want Peeta to think it was over something sad. She wanted to make sure their day was full of joy with their found family.

She drank from her mug and gave a content sigh, catching Peeta’s attention as she laid her head against the back of the couch. He mimicked her movements, and smiled at her.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said to her, and even with years and years of getting compliments like these from Peeta, Katniss still wasn’t used to how casually he was able to say it, and she felt heat rush her cheeks as she smiled back at him.

Looking at him in their home, happy and healthy and hers, she felt a sudden wave of emotion start to overtake her. Again, she didn’t want Peeta to think she was sad, quite the contrary, and she needed to change the topic before he became worried.

“So remind me of our menu tonight?”

Peeta went on to describe the feast he had planned, which Katniss was already familiar with since she had helped gather much of the items. Roasted duck, brussel sprouts, mashed potatoes. Cheese buns and spinach pastries. Too many cookies and apple pie. Normally, Katniss’s mouth would be watering just from the conversation. Currently, the only thing that sounded appetizing was the cheese buns.

“Well if we’re gonna feed the town tonight, shouldn’t we get started?” Katniss asked.

“Soon, but not yet,” Peeta responded. “First,” Peeta started, and he leaned over the side of the couch, “I want to give you this,” he finished, presenting Katniss with a small box. She looked at him with surprise.

“It’s just something small, but…” his voice trailed off as he bit his bottom lip, suppressing a smile.

They’d never been Christmas gift givers. A calm morning off from the bakery and a break from hunting were usually how they celebrated. Small gifts on the day-to-day just helped further cement their love for one another, and for Katniss and Peeta, grand gestures had always come off the most sincere when they were unexpected. Of course, since they did not typically give gifts on Christmas, Katniss supposed this would now be considered unexpected.

Peeta placed the small box in her hands, perfectly wrapped by his skilled hands. When Katniss opened the box, she found a gold ring, expertly shaped to look like a primrose flower with a small diamond in the center. She gasped, and tears brimmed her eyes almost immediately, but she couldn’t take them away from the ring.

Since she couldn’t speak, Peeta filled the silence. “It just hit fifteen years, and I thought this would be a good way to remember her. I reached out to Effie, and she got me in touch with someone Cinna and Portia used to work with. I sent her probably fifty sketches of my idea. I was so nervous she wouldn’t be able to do it how I envisioned it, but I should’ve known that if she worked with Cinna and Portia, she’d be able to do practically anything.”

So, Peeta got her a gift, and not a gift he just went and bought. He designed it. With Cinna and Portia and Prim in mind. Any words she could come up with right now would not be enough.

With Katniss choked up, Peeta’s anxious words continued like an endlessly flowing river. “And I know we toasted so long ago, but we never really did the ring thing, and I never even really asked you if that was something you wanted because it's always been such a Capitol thing, but then I thought maybe you felt like you were missing out on it. I also thought a ring might be the easiest piece of jewelry because it’s small and it won’t get caught in your hair like a necklace would, and you can still use your bow with it since I had a probably very impractical thought that a bracelet could get in the way of that and you’d get hurt somehow.”

Katniss looked up and met his blue eyes, which were wide with anxiety and observing her every move.

“Do you like it?” Peeta finally asked, eyes searching her face as if the answer would be written there.

An idea hit her before she could properly respond. “I’ll be right back,” Katniss blurted out suddenly, and jumped from the couch, darting up the stairs.

If her brain hadn’t been in such a fog these past few days, she would have made sure to stay behind briefly to tell Peeta how much she loved it. She would’ve told him how wonderful and thoughtful this gift was, how hopeful this gift made her feel. At the very least, she would’ve warned him that she wasn’t running away because she was sad, thinking of hurtful memories from their past. But in her current state, once she remembered something, she needed to act on it before she lost the idea entirely.

Not that her gift to him was ever something she could forget. She was just going to wait to tell him. She wanted to make a special moment for it so it could be perfect, at a time when she felt more ready for it. But, she knew if it was her and Peeta, it would be perfect either way.

When she bolted back down the stairs, winded and smiling with her hands behind her back, Peeta presented her with a smile of his own, eyes still wide with confusion and shock and now joy to match her own.

“I have something small for you, too,” Katniss said. She stood in front of him on the couch and placed her gift to him, clumsily wrapped in only tissue paper, in his hands.

Peeta shot her another curious look before tearing the paper away. His eyes went wide when he saw what was in his hands.

“Katniss?” Peeta breathed, her name bearing a question, an answer, a lifeline. “Is this real?”

She barely gave him a nod before he jumped off the couch, laughing and sweeping her into his arms, kissing her face anywhere he could, tears now brimming both of their eyes. Because in his hand he clutched the greatest gift of all: a small plastic test clearly adorned with a dark blue plus sign.

[waitingandwishing]

(Cross posted on Wattpad)

Prev - Next Chapter

“Let’s go over it again,” Grayson said firmly, her sharp eyes scanning the cluttered room. She adjusted her posture, her authoritative demeanor unwavering despite the disarray.

“You have to believe me. I didn’t do this,” Jayce pleaded, his voice cracking slightly as he gestured helplessly at the mess around him.

Grayson folded her arms, her brows knitting together in a frown. “Relax, kid. We know it was a break-in, but that doesn’t explain this.” Her gaze swept over the piles of unregistered items and mechanisms that didn’t belong in an ordinary lab. “There’s a lot of restricted items here, and I don’t see any permits. You wanna tell me how you got them?”

“Hey, hey! Be careful with that, please,” Jayce shouted suddenly, his panic redirected toward an enforcer who carelessly lifted a wooden beam off one of the blue crystals.

“I believe someone should have said that earlier,” Viktor commented, his soft yet deliberate accent cutting through the tension as he turned away from the chalkboard. “What happened here?”

Jayce let out a heavy sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose as if trying to ward off a headache. “Science, I guess,” he muttered, his tone both defensive and resigned.

“Last time I checked, science didn’t require illegal equipment,” Grayson shot back, her tone laced with skepticism. She pointed toward a particularly ominous-looking device nestled among the rubble.

“Nor was this approved by the Academy,” Viktor added, stepping closer. His limp was noticeable, but it didn’t diminish the air of authority he carried. “Who authorized your research?”

“It was an independent study… Who are you anyway?” Jayce asked, his tone shifting to irritation as he stared at the thin, pale man before him.

“I’m assistant to the Dean of the Academy,” Viktor replied coolly, his golden-brown eyes narrowing slightly, “Who it may serve you to remember is also head of the Council.” He leaned on his cane as he delivered the reminder. “He sent me here to ensure that anything dangerous is removed safely… Which, according to my list, includes you.”

“What?!” Jayce’s eyes widened in disbelief. “How am I dangerous?”

“Uh, that’s for the Council to decide,” Viktor said with a slight shrug, gesturing to an enforcer to move in. 

As the officer approached, Viktor’s attention shifted, his analytical gaze locking onto the chaos surrounding them. Something had caught his eye, a glint of metal among the debris.

Limping toward it, Viktor bent down as best he could, his thin fingers brushing against the cold surface of a small object. His breath hitched as he lifted it. ‘It can’t be…’

In his hands was a pocket watch, its metallic casing adorned with intricate filigree details. The center of the watch face displayed a celestial design, the deep blue background shimmering under the dim light. A radiant sun and crescent moon were etched delicately, their delicate rays intertwined in perfect harmony.

‘You’re like the moon, and I’m like the sun! Whenever I shine, everyone loves me! And whenever you shine, everyone thinks you’re beautiful!’ Viktor’s hand trembled slightly as he stared at the watch, memories flooding back. 

‘Y/N… It’s been years since I last saw you…’ His lips pressed into a thin line as he fought to suppress the emotions threatening to surface. ‘I wonder how you’ve been doing, mojí drahoušek…’

Sure, Y/N had been known for stealing things. In fact, the whole reason she and Viktor met was because she had stolen something from a few people! But… Would she really dare to steal from Piltover?

Was it fate that they’d meet again? Viktor wasn’t sure if he should be happy or guilty for the fact that they might meet again.

Straightening as much as his body allowed, Viktor pocketed the watch carefully. His expression was unreadable, but his mind was racing, consumed by the past and the implications of finding such a thing here.

_____________________________________________________

The enforcer threw Y/N against the wall with a force that knocked the air out of her lungs. Her back slammed hard into the rough, crumbling bricks, and before she could react, his hand clamped around her throat.

She clawed at his arm instinctively, gasping for air as her vision blurred slightly at the edges. His face loomed close, contorted with anger, and the veins in his neck stood out as he barked at her.

“Tell me who they were!” he shouted, his voice echoing through the empty alleyway. The metallic clink of his squad’s boots on the pavement was a chilling backdrop to his fury.

“I-I don’t know!” Y/N stammered, her voice raw with desperation as she tried to force the words out. “They were a couple of older people! H-Had green and yellow hair!” She winced as her back scraped against the wall when he pressed her even harder against it.

“Liar!” the enforcer snarled, his face inches from hers. The venom in his voice was noticeable, his hatred seething just beneath the surface. He shoved her further into the wall, grinding her shoulders painfully into the coarse surface. “You people are all the same. Liars, thieves, you’ll do anything to scrape by. Pathetic.”

Y/N’s pulse pounded in her ears, her chest heaving as she struggled to get even a sliver of air into her lungs. The pressure on her throat was unbearable, but she pushed past the terror and managed to rasp, “A-and who set that system u-up?!”

Her words, though faint, hit a nerve. The enforcer’s grip faltered for just a second before he released her completely, letting her drop unceremoniously to the ground. 

She crumpled to her knees, coughing violently as she clutched at her throat, trying to soothe the raw, bruised skin. 

Y/N barely had time to catch her breath before a sharp pain erupted in her side, his heavy boot connected with her ribs, sending her sprawling onto the filthy, rain-soaked ground.

“You dirty scumbags are worth nothing,” He spat coldly. The heavy tread of his and his squad's boots receded into the distance, leaving Y/N alone in the silence of the alley.

“Psst! Up here!” a voice hissed from above. Y/N tilted her head weakly, squinting through the blood and dirt smearing her face. She spotted Ekko crouched on the rooftop, his wide eyes glowing with concern as he waved her over. 

Her chest still heaving, she forced herself to her feet. Her entire body protested with every movement, pain shooting through her ribs, but she gritted her teeth and reached for the ladder.

“Are you okay?” Ekko whispered as she finally pulled herself over the edge of the roof. He placed a steadying hand on her shoulder, his gaze scanning the bruises on her face and the blood trailing from her nose.

“Yeah,” She croaked, her voice raspy and tired. “Just accidentally got pinned down by some of the enforcers.” She offered a small, strained smile that didn’t do much to hide her discomfort. “Ekko, the enforcers are looking for the rest of them. We need to get back.”

Ekko’s eyes widened, and he nodded solemnly. Without another word, the two darted across the rooftops, the wind biting at their skin as they moved. Y/N’s body screamed in protest with each jump and landing, but she didn’t slow down. They had to make it in time, there was no other option.

The Last Drop loomed ahead, its faint lights barely visible through the grime and smog of the undercity. They slipped inside through the roof, sliding into the dim, cluttered basement undetected. The faint hum of muffled voices reached them as they climbed onto the beams above.

Y/N scanned the dimly lit room, her sharp gaze immediately meeting Vi’s. Vi’s expression shifted to alarm as she noticed the blood on Y/N’s face and the bruises beginning to form on her skin. Y/N tilted her head, giving her a small, reassuring smile. She was okay, at least, that’s what she wanted Vi to think.

Her attention snapped to the sound of a creak. Powder was losing her balance, her foot slipping against the uneven beam. Y/N’s stomach flipped, her heart racing as she lunged forward, barely managing to grab hold of Powder’s shirt. 

Her fingers clenched tightly around the fabric, her other hand locking onto a beam to steady herself.

The faint light flickered ominously, then blinked out, plunging the room into darkness. A second later, the basement door slammed shut with an ominous thud. 

Powder gasped, losing her footing entirely and falling to the ground with a sharp yelp. 

Y/N dropped down after her, ignoring the protest of her battered body. Her boots hit the floor with a solid thud, and she crouched to help Powder up. 

Wiping the crusted blood from her face with the back of her hand, she straightened, her eyes meeting Vi’s concerned gaze.

“What happened to you, Y/N?” Vi asked, stepping closer. Her tone was sharp with worry, her brows furrowed.

“Enforcers happened,” Y/N replied flatly, her voice tinged with bitterness. She crossed her arms over her chest, wincing slightly at the ache in her ribs.

“Yeah! But she was a total badass!” Ekko chimed in, his face lighting up with excitement as he gestured wildly. “He was like, ‘Tell me who they were! You people are just liars and thieves!’ And she was all like, ‘And who set that system up?!’” He mimicked the enforcer’s gruff tone before switching to an exaggerated version of Y/N’s voice, grinning proudly.

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh, the sound light but short-lived. It felt good, even if just for a moment.

The basement door creaked open, and Vander’s imposing figure filled the doorway. He scanned the room, his expression tense. “Are you all okay?” he asked, his voice calm but heavy with concern.

Vi stepped forward, her jaw tight. “No, we’re not okay,” she snapped. “They almost saw Powder. What if they’d taken her?” Her voice rose, her anger barely contained as she glared at Vander.

“No one is taking any of you,” Vander said firmly, his voice unwavering. “I won’t let that happen.”

“It’s already happening!” Vi shot back, her fists clenched tightly at her sides. “Y/N almost got her ass handed to her and sent to jail! You heard him, Vander. They won’t stop. They never stop. We need to fight back!” She slammed her fist into the wall with a loud thud. “And if you won’t, I will.”

Vander’s shoulders sagged, and he sighed deeply. “I’ve heard this kind of talk before,” he murmured, his voice low.

_____________________________________________________

Mojí drahoušek. Viktor scoffed at his own words, the ink smudging slightly as he scratched them out with a frustrated sigh. He leaned back in his chair, staring at the half-finished letter as if it could somehow write itself.

It had been years. Years since he’d seen her, heard her voice, or even allowed himself to think of her without that familiar ache creeping into his chest. Yet here he was, pen in hand, the words refusing to come out as smoothly as they once might have.

“It’s been a long time, Y/N,” He muttered, his voice low and tinged with exasperation. His fingers drummed against the table for a moment before his hand shot to his face, rubbing at the weariness that seemed to cling to him. “Of course it’s been a long time. You left her.”

What was he thinking? Ever since he stumbled across that pocket watch, it had been impossible to keep his thoughts from straying to her. 

Her eyes, that piercing gaze that could read him like an open book. Her smile, rare but unforgettable. Everything about her haunted him, a ghost lingering just at the edge of his mind.

Viktor dipped his pen into the ink pot once more, his grip tightening as he resolved to try again.

Dear Y/N,It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?

There are many questions I have to ask you. I would assume you’d think the same, though I suppose I have no right to assume what you’re thinking. I must apologize, leaving you was a mistake I’ve come to regret deeply. And yet despite the time and distance, I still find traces of you everywhere I go.

A lab partner of mine reminds me of you in more ways than one. The way he speaks, his stubborn determination to be right… It all brings you to mind. And then there are the smaller things.

The color olive green always makes me think of your cloak. I wonder, do you still have it? Or has it been discarded, like so many other pieces of our past?

You once told me we were like the sun and the moon, shining bright at different times. I told you we were more like two halves of the same coin yet didn’t realize that meant we were also destined to remain apart. The distance between us now feels so long, and I know it’s my fault. I let it grow. I let you slip away.

I found your mother’s pocket watch in the wreckage of my lab partners robbed lab. What a small world.

Magic and science… It's fascinating, isn’t it? The potential to intertwine them could revolutionize Piltover, though I can’t say the same for the Undercity.

I don’t expect to send you this letter. And if I do, I don’t expect a response. Nor do I expect you to act on anything I’ve said here. But I want you to know I’d like to return the pocket watch to you. 

I know how important it is, as a piece of your mother. Meet me in the Undercity, our old home. Perhaps in the alleyway where we first met. Where everything began.

This isn’t about closure for me; I’ve forfeited any right to peace of mind. Nor is it an attempt to make you remember me, I’m sure you already do. This is simply a transaction between old friends, nothing more. 

Afterward, we can go back to our separate lives. Though I doubt I’ll ever truly forget you, you have the choice to decide.

Love From, Viktor.

taglist: @night-fall-moon @g0ul666 (If you'd like to be added tell me in the comments!!!)

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

For the totally not official not-blog-event, may I request some happenstance where Dilah and Lilia have to look after the other’s son for some time? (As for whether or not Lilia is disguised, I’ll leave it up to you)

Referencing this post!

I’m going to write some headcanons for this one! ^^

Curiouser and Curiouser...

Most would feel insulted when their dorm leader goes out of their way to find someone to supervise them in their absence—but not Deuce!! He’s stoked to have a wise mentor figure to tutor and guide him. (He needs good role models if he wants to be a good role model himself one day, right?) Deuce just wasn’t expecting Lilia to be picked! (“Everyone else I asked was unavailable,” Riddle sighed. “Now do not burn the roses down while I’m away, is that understood?”)

“Kufufu. You don’t need to be shy or scared around me. I’m just your cute and friendly neighborhood Lilia-chan 🎵” he insists with an angelic smile. Almost immediately, Deuce feels like something… bad… is about to happen. He brushes that feeling off and happily welcomes Lilia to Heartslabyul (albeit a bit too stiffly and formally)—he has to remain polite with his upperclassmen, after all!

He brings a suitcase full of "the essentials". Lilia proceeds to pull out a bunch of weird-looking ingredients and ancient items. He claims they're all necessary for old wives' remedies--in case Deuce needs them!--as well as extra nutrients for his "world class" cooking that Deuce will get to experience later.

Lilia is a senpai and therefore theoretically a good tutor when Deuce needs help with his homework. And he is, for the most part! Problem is, when it comes to history, Lilia has a tendency to ramble and start telling personal stories. He ends up going so off topic that Deuce forgets what the initial question he had was.

Gets all excited to help his ward train for Track and Field Club. Lilia makes his own obstacle course in the Rose Gardens and drills Deuce in it. Deuce thought it would be a regular track at first, but then he notices the spikes, the lava pit, and the venomous snakes littering the field. "What? But this is the most basic of the basic!" Lilia tells him--so Deuce takes a deep breath, steels himself, and charges through.

Lilia wears a frilly "Kiss the Cook" apron as he cooks up some food! Trey nervously watches him and offers to help, but Lilia turns him down at every corner. As Trey leaves the kitchen, he tries signaling to Deuce to not take a bite. Too bad it goes over his head. One bite, and Deuce is knocked out cold. Lilia unfortunately misinterprets this as his food being so good, it took Deuce straight to heaven!

They bond over music! Lilia blares some of his favorite rock and metal songs for Deuce, who really vibes with how wild and free they are! He even shows Deuce some compositions he put together with the Pop/Light Music Club, demonstrating on his electric guitar (yes, he packed that with him). At one point, Cater joins them for a jam sesh but clocks out quickly--he's not sure how much his ears can take the volume. Riddle shouts at them to "turn it down", but it's hard to hear him over the music!

Lilia tries to help out with the chores by enchanting the brooms and mops to move on their own. Deuce asks him to please teach him. He doesn't want Lilia to do all the work--he wants to learn how to pull off such spectacular magic too! Lilia commends him for being so proactive, and, with a chuckle, sets to showing him the ropes.

Wakes Deuce up the next morning up hanging from his ceiling upside down. He screams, waking up Ace and his two other roomies, which delights Lilia to no end. "Rise and shine," he chirps. "My, you're so energetic, even first thing in the morning!"

Silver’s used to taking care of after himself while his father’s away on long journeys of self/discovery all over Twisted Wonderland. If he ever gets lonely, he has his animal friends and the Zigvolts to turn to. So… how did he somehow end up with a classmate’s mother looking after him? “It’s good to broaden your horizons and to meet new people!” Lilia had told him (right before casually peacing out)

“Put’r there, kid!” Dylla seizes Silver’s hand and gives it a good, vigorous shake. Her energy and strength definitely startles him wide awake (he was starting to drift off)! Silver suddenly realizes where Deuce got it from.

She cooks up omurice for Silver. It's Deuce's favorite, so she figures it would be a crowd pleaser for him as well. Dylla even puts in the effort to pipe on a little ketchup heart on the omelet, just how her son likes it~ Silver's surprised by the cuteness and how... non-lethal the omurice is. When he compliments Dylla, she simply laughs and tells him to eat up, cuz growing boys like him need more protein!

Dylla's impressed by Silver's horde of animal friends! She's used to seeing wild rabbits and birds in Clock Town, but never so many tamed woodland creatures. She tries to clumsily greet them, with Silver serving as the mediary and coaxing the birds to hop on her fingers and head. "No way!" Dylla gasps, giggling at the blue jay nipping at her neck. "Quick--take a picture of this, I need to show Deuce!" (Better that Silver take it anyway, Dylla's not that up to speed on the latest tech.)

She rolls up her sleeves and sets to tidying up Diasomnia! Silver suspects Dylla must be used to doing many things on her own, because she refuses help from him even when she's actively struggling. He silently steps in and takes the heavy armchair from her. "Don't push yourself too hard. If we work together, we can get things done sooner. It's... okay to rely on other sometimes--so please rely on me. Mrs. Spade."

Dylla finds him sleeping on a couch in the lounge. Instead of waking him up, she sighs and slips off her jacket and hat, placing them on Silver to keep him warm as he dreams. "... What am I going to do with you?" she says with a soft smile.

Silver's a good listener. Dylla doesn't mean to, but one thing leads to another and suddenly she's sharing all about her experiences as a single mother and what it's been like raising Deuce. He validates her and expresses empathy, saying that his own father must have similar experiences. "I'm thankful to him for working so hard to provide me with this life. I'm sure Deuce must feel the same way about you."

She tells him off when Silver tries to head out for his usual rounds of night patrol. Dylla turns him right back around and orders him to march off to bed! She worries that he'll be off doing something unsavory--or, Sevens forbid--get caught up in danger, all things her own son has been through.

Oh no! Silver slept in and now he's running late for class. Not to worry though. Dylla pulls up on a bike and tells him to hop on, she'll drive him to school. Silver thanks her and climbs aboard... not knowing that he's in for the wildest, roughest ride of his life. Hey, at least he'll be wide awake when he arrives for first period.

[nknoxe-n]

◅You call that breakfast?▻

Synopsis: Shidou decides to make you breakfast in bed, too bad his idea of 'breakfast' is atrocious

Warnings: [Shidou himself is always a warning]

w.c 800

The early morning sun peeked through your curtains, its gentle warmth tugging you from sleep. The faint sound of clinking and shuffling echoed from the direction of the kitchen, immediately setting off alarm bells in your groggy mind. Before you could fully process what was happening, Ryusei barged into your bedroom with a tray in hand, a mischievous grin plastered across his face.

“Good morning, sugar tits!” He exclaimed, plopping the tray onto the bed with an exaggerated tone.

You blinked at him, still half-asleep, before glancing at the tray. On it sat an alarming assortment of items: a half-eaten bag of spicy chips, a handful of gummy bears arranged in a smiley face, a can of soda, and what appeared to be a sandwich… if sandwiches were made with two slices of bread and nothing in between.

“Ta-da!” he announced proudly, throwing his hands in the air like he’d just scored the winning goal in a championship game. “A gourmet breakfast, handcrafted with love by yours truly. Go ahead, dig in!”

You gave him a deadpan look. “Ryu… this is not breakfast. This is.. Chaos on a plate.”

“Chaos?” he gasped, clutching his chest like you’d mortally wounded him. “You wound me, babe. This is art. Picasso would weep at the beauty of this spread.!”

You raised an eyebrow, suppressing a laugh. “Picasso didn’t make food.”

“Exactly!” he retorted as if what he was trying to say was plain obvious, leaning in close with that signature manic sparkle in his eyes. “That’s what makes this better. Now, taste it before I cry.”

Knowing there was no winning against him, you sighed and picked up a gummy bear, popping it into your mouth. “Happy now?”

His grin widened as he plucked a chip from the bag and held it to your lips. “Not until you’ve tried everything. Open up, babe.”

You rolled your eyes but obliged, crunching down on the chip. It was absurdly spicy, the heat immediately hitting your tongue. You coughed, reaching for the soda, but Shidou snatched it away with a devilish laugh.

“Ah-ah, no drinks until you finish the sandwich,” he teased, holding the can just out of reach.

“Shidou Ryusei,” you said, your voice a warning.

“What? I’m just trying to make sure you enjoy the full experience,” he replied innocently, his grin anything but.

You shook your head, suppressing a laugh, and reached for the soda again. This time, you managed to snatch it from his grasp, triumphantly cracking it open.

Before you could take a sip, Shidou leaned closer, his face suddenly inches from yours. “Careful,” he whispered, his voice low and teasing. “That soda’s not just any soda. It’s infused with the magic of my love. One sip, and you might fall even harder for me~”

You froze for a moment, caught off guard by the intensity in his gaze, before bursting into laughter. “Shidou, you’re unbelievable.”

“And you’re adorable,” he shot back without missing a beat. “So, who’s really winning here?”

Deciding to play along, you took a dramatic sip of the soda, giving him a mock-thoughtful look. “Hmm. Nope. Tastes like regular soda to me. Guess your magic didn’t work.”

He gasped, clutching at his chest like you’d just delivered a fatal blow. “Babe, how could you? My love isn’t regular! Take it back!”

“Nope.” You smirked, leaning back against the pillows, savoring your tiny victory.

Shidou, of course, couldn’t let that slide. He dove forward, tackling you onto the mattress with a laugh. “Oh, you’re asking for it now!” he declared, tickling your sides until you were squirming and crying with laughter.

“Okay, okay!” you wheezed between giggles. “Your love isn’t regular! It’s… it’s premium or whatever! Stop- you'll spill the food hah!”

“Damn right it is.” He stopped his assault, grinning triumphantly as he flopped down beside you and picked up the tray, only to set it aside on the nightstand. He turned back to you and pulled you close, his arm slung around your shoulders as he pressed a kiss to your temple.

For a few moments, everything stilled. You rested your head against his chest, the sound of his heartbeat steady and comforting. He glanced down at you, his earlier playfulness softening into something gentler.

“Y’know,” he murmured, brushing a stray hair from your face, “you’re kind of my favourite person. Thanks for putting up with my crap.”

You looked up at him, your heart-warming at the sincerity in his voice. “You’re lucky you’re cute, Ryusei,” you teased, poking his cheek.

He laughed, the sound loud and unrestrained, just like him. “Lucky? Babe, I’m blessed. I’ve got you.”

And as much as you wanted to roll your eyes at his cockiness, you couldn’t help but smile. Shidou Ryusei might be a lot of things—Erratic, devious, and downright ridiculous—but moments like this reminded you why you wouldn’t have him any other way.