#How to Draw a Hand Saw for Kids Easy Step by Step

[call-me-strega]

How to Become a Step-Dad in 5 Easy Steps: Chapter 8, Step 3a: The Blessing

A new chapter for Pride Month! We are officially in the month this story begins in!

first, prev, next, lore, ao3

~~~

Step 3: Ask them out after receiving their child’s blessing

Sub-step A: Obtaining the blessing

Jason was a coward.

It had been about 5 months since he had met the Nightingales in June. It had been nearly 2 months since he realized he was in love with Danny in September. Now it was mid-November and Jason was still yet to make a move.

Over the past few months, Jason has had multiple conversations with Danny both in person and over the phone. He's played with and babysat Ellie a plenty of times. They have dinner together almost as frequently as Jason does with his own family. Hell, he's officially Ellie's secondary emergency contact! He has her drawings and spelling tests up on his fridge! Jason has undeniably become just as important to them as they are to him.

So why is he still hesitating?

Jason sighs into his files, catching Fern's attention.

"Hey Chief, everything okay? Is it 'bout the Thanksgiving dinner for the one soup kitchen? Did John and Irene forget to order something because I told them-"

"Calm down Power Puff, those two didn't do anything wrong."

"Not yet at least," Fern muttered under their breath, recalling the last time Irene and John had caused a mess. They missed a produce delivery because they were too busy arguing. Fern nearly had a conniption when they found them produce-less and made them go recover the delivery when the driver was halfway across Gotham, promising to skin them alive if they came back with so much as a single lettuce leaf wilted in the meantime.

And Jason only hired people who were reliable and made good on their words.

Jason doesn't remember if he'd ever seen the pair work together better in the entire time he'd known them.

Shaking his head, he reassured Fern. "Nah, Johnny reported a mishap in product quantity with the turkey suppliers but I've already worked it out. Also our tofu option supplier fell through but my baby brother is vegan and I had Irene get in contact with one of his recs so we should be fine. So don't go scarin' the daylights outa them again just yet, I still need 'em. 'Sides I'm sighin' for personal reasons and shit."

"Alright Chief, they live for now," the pastel punk relented.

They continued their work in silence for two whole blissful minutes before Fern piped up again.

"Right then, out with it Chief. What's got you sighin' if it ain't the terrible two-some?"

"Didn't I just say it was personal shit?"

Fern raised an eyebrow at him.

"Oh please, if yah didn't want me askin', yah wouldn't have said shit 'bout it in the first place. Yah want someone to ask yah so you can get it outa yer system. So spill Chief." Fern said, reading Jason like a book.

Jason sighs in defeat.

"Okay so do you remember Danny and Ellie?"

"Yer hot neighbor and his kid who came to the soup kitchen that one time? The one Irene's always ribbin' yah about?"

"Yes," Jason glared with no heat, "that's them."

"Whatta 'bout 'em?"

"Okay so you CANNOT tell Irene this," he began. "Buuuuuut, she wasn't exactly wrong about me liking Danny."

Fern's eyes glimmered in excitement. "Oh yeah?" they questioned eagerly.

"Yeah," a sappy expression began to grow on his face. "He's just- he's a really great guy. He's kind and sweet and thoughtful. He's smart and good with his hands- and did I tell you he's working for Leo now? He fixed up my bike a while back and it's running smoother than ever! Oh- and he's an amazing dad! He's always making time for El, playing with her, protecting her. One time I saw 'im clock a guy across the face to protect her! He's-"

An amused look on Fern's face caused him to trail off as he realized he'd begun ranting.

"He's just really great." He finished weakly.

"So you've mentioned," Fern chuckled sympathetically. "Sound like you've got the hots big time Chief. So what 'bout this has got yah all out of sorts?"

"I- I really love him, Fern. Both of them really," he confessed.

"And this is an issue because...?" Fern questioned, drawing their eyebrows together.

"Because I'm too scare to tell him. I just don't know what to do. We talk and see each other all the time. I spend time with Ellie too, but I just can't seem to say anything about it."

"Well why not?"

"Something about it just doesn't feel right?"

"Come on man, stop pussyfooting and be specific. Ya worried he won't like ya back? That he'll cut you off?"

"Wha- no! No. He wouldn't do that even if he didn't like me back. He and Ellie care about me nearly as much as I care about them. He wouldn't put her through a drastic change like that. At the very least he'd still try to be friends."

"Hmmm. Is that the issue?"

"Huh? Is what the issue?"

"Are you worried it'll be a drastic change for the kid?"

"I-" Jason stopped to consider Fern's words. "Yeah I guess so? I mean there is big big difference between being a family friend she calls uncle and being her dad's boyfriend. I guess I'm not sure she'd take it super well?"

"Look Chief, I think yer overcomplicatin' this. There's a simple solution if yer worried about what the kid will think."

Jason gave Fern an inquiring look.

"Just talk to the kid first." Fern said in an exasperated voice. As if they couldn't believe Jason hadn't thought of this sooner. "Ask her if she'd be okay with ya dating her pops or whatever. She sounds like she likes ya well enough, so ya might have a chance if she approves or whatever."

"Yeah. Yeah you're right. I think I will talk to Ellie first." A determined look grew on his face. "Thanks Fern, you're the best!"

"You know it!" Fern shoved Jason's shoulder. "Now get back to work Chief! Some of us refuse to take work home with us!"

~

Jason was packing his things up for the afternoon when his phone started beeping. He opened it up to see that the family had come to life group chat:

In "The Colony":

"Dad-Man: Alfred would like me to ask if we intend to do a Thanksgiving dinner this year. Dick, I already know that your going on an off-grid trip with Kori, Donna, Victor and the rest of your friends next week, but what about the rest of you?

CoachPretzelHead: Aww B! You do listen! 🥹"

Jason huffed, even though it was encrypted line, Bruce still insisted they talk in code. 'Hmm,' he thought. 'So Dickie-bird's going on a mission with the Titans'. He kept reading to see what the other's had sent.

"BossBaby: I won't be here

BossBaby: Connor invited Bernard and I to Kansas so we'll be spending the long weekend with the Kents.

Dad-man: 🤨

Dad-man: Alright son, but be safe

BossBaby: Ugh I hate it when he uses emojis

BossBaby: Its so cringe

BossBaby: @/PurplePain I blame you

AllSeeingEye: I'll be celebrating with my dad

CoachPretzelHead: Tell him I said hi!

AllSeeingEye gave this message a thumbs up

PurplePain: same hat

PurplePain: i am celebrating with my mom

PurplePain: also sorry not sorry tim

PurplePain: suscks to suck lmao

Dad-man: Alright that's fine you two. Barbara tell Jim I say hi and Steph give my best to Crystal

PurplePain: stay away from my mom 🤢

Dad-man: Stephanie...

PurplePain: okaaay jk jk

PurplePain: chill B

PurplePain: I'll tell her you said hi or whatever

VeeseChiking: Father, I see no point in partaking in this inane holiday celebrating colonialism

VeeseChiking: Which one of you heathens has change my display name once more

CoachPretzelHead: I'm pretty sure I saw Jon with your phone at your playdate yesterday"

Oooh this seemed like a good time to jump in before the gremlin went on another rant about how this treatment was "unbecoming" or whatever.

"(D)Re(a)dSon: I won't be able to make it. I've got a bunch of different soup kitchens to manage and prep for the holiday

(D)Re(a)dSon: I'll be volunteering that night too

(D)Re(a)dSon: But tell Alfie I'll stop by sometime for some tea or smth"

That was both code and an earnest plan. He'd be working in the Catherine Johnson Center soup kitchen before he went on patrol that night.

"Dad-man: Alright lad. Alfred would be happy to have you over. Glad to hear you'll be helping out the Foundation.

CoachPretzelHead: *cough* favoritism *cough*

(D)Re(a)dSon: What part of that interaction was favoritism Golden Boy

TechnicallyADemigod: I'll be home if Alfred needs help in the kitchen or anything

TechnicallyADemigod: Also Cass is with me rn and she says she to lazy to text so to tell you she won't be going back to Hong Kong until after thanksgiving so she'll stick around for dinner if she doesn't tag along with Steph

Dad-man: Okay Chum thanks for letting me know. Tell Cass we'd be happy to have her. I'll let Alfred know we don't plan to do a big dinner this year."

Deciding this is a safe place to drop out of the conversation, Jason turned off his phone and headed to the safe house that has gone up on his list of favorites, the one which he now comfortably calls home.

Once he got home he checked messages to see a new batch notifications from the both the family chat and another contact.

Danny🕊️

"Hey Jase how ya doing?

I wanted to ask if you're free the friday after thanksgiving

I kinda need a favor

Ellie has a long weekend coming up and I need someone to watch her on that Friday bc I have to go give an in-person exam bc my prof breaks exams into 4 instead of a midterm and final

But also who gives an exam the day after a federal holiday?

Like I know that Unis aren't required to give off but like still man

There should be laws against this type of thing"

Jason pause his reading to smile. He could practically hear Danny pout through his phone

"Anyways, I'd leave her with Jazz since we're going to her place for Thanksgiving on Thursday but she's got some internship thing to do

And I know your pretty busy and normally I'd ask Trina but she's traveling to Florida so Sasha can see her grandparents for the break

Pls lemme know if you'd be available"

Jason chuckled over his friend's plight as he typed out an affirmative. He knew he shouldn't have anything going on, and he'd have a chance to talk to Ellie.

"An opportunity to spend time with my favorite Nightingale?

Sign me up!"

He smiled at his phone as Danny typed back:

"Hey I thought I was your fav :(

lol jk jk

Ellie's my fav nightingale too

Thanks, Jase! <3"

'He sent you a little heart!' the definitely-not-the-pits voice cried in his head. Yeah, he really just needed to talk to Ellie soon.

~

Jason is totally not nervous about having Ellie over. Definitely not.

He'd look after her plenty of times and she'd always enjoyed herself! The kid loved him! There was absolutely no reason to stress! He just had to relax! Be cool. It's not like he's some romance novel protagonist trying to receive the blessing of his lover's family to marry despite the fact that he'd be marrying above his station or whatever! (Although, Danny probably was out of his league.) Nope! Not one bit!

He continued to mindlessly cut up strawberries that would be his bribe snack for her once Danny dropped her off. He carried out the repetitive motion almost mindlessly.

Two cuts diagonally at the top, removing the stem and leaves. One cut width-wise down the middle.

It wasn't until he reached for the next berry, only to be met with an empty carton that Jason snapped out of his head. He flushed realizing he now had a bowl overflowing with heart-shaped strawberry halves. He tried not to think about it too hard as he slid it into the fridge for later.

Instead, he wandered back into the living room to adjust and arrange his coffee table. He set the TV remote in the middle. In the top right corner a half-assembled puzzle of a biplane from the last time Ellie was here, and on the left edge a stack of books with another Boxcar Children book, 6th in the original series: The Blue Bay Mystery, on the top.

Ellie had loved the book Jason had given her. She had been ecstatic when he told her there were more. He started searching for some of the other books, getting them either from thrift stores or the GPL (Gotham Public Library). They would often read them together when she came over. It had become like their own little thing.

Jason felt some of the tension he was pretending not to have melt out of his body as he smiled, thinking about reading to her.

He could do this.

Jason checked his phone. Danny wouldn't bring her over for another hour or so. He really should relax in the meantime. Jason picked up a worn copy of The Princess Bride that Dick had gifted him years ago, and began to read.

~

"*Mm-ach*... -and then Uncle Tuck mimed throwing up behind Aunt Sammy's back so she took her tofurkey leg and slapped him with it! And auntie Val laughed at them until Auntie Jazz called to them from the kitchen and told them they better not be getting into another food fight and making a mess or else she wasn't gonna give them desert. And then they sat down really quick like... uh..- like ducks! Yeah they sat down like ducks b'cause Daddy and I made dessert and they know we make the best-est desserts!"

Jason sat on the couch with Ellie, chuckling as she recounted her Thanksgiving yesterday between bites of strawberry.

"Sounds eventful munchkin! What was your favorite part?"

"Mmm, when Val was trying to make auntie Jazz blush! Daddy got so surprised because he thought Val liked Sammy! He freaked out and Aunt Sammy laughed and he realized they were just making fun of him and while they were doing that I was able to get an extra slice of pie from Uncle Tuck!"

"Hahaha, that's great! Maybe I should call you my little Muncher intsted of Munchkin, huh?" he joked, playfully tickling her stomach.

She burst into a fit of giggles " Hehehehehe -eek! Uncle Jaaason stah-stooop!" She complained trying to push him back.

"Alright, alright!" he relented, "I'm glad you had fun." He finished earnestly glad she had so many good adults she could trust in her life, and by extension, that Danny had such good friends. Ellie nodded back at him clearly happy.

"Yeah, it was nice seeing everyone again. I know it made Daddy happy too. Plus I got to give everyone their invitations!"

"Invitations?" Jason questioned.

Ellie looked like she'd been stuck by lightening. She gasped and tossed herself off the couch rushing to her butterfly backpack. Out of it she pulled out a slightly crumpled piece of paper. She scurried back over and shove it in his hands.

It read, "Youre Corgially invited to My Brithday!", written in messy blue crayon with a drawing of a red cake and yellow party Hat underneath.

"This one's for you," she told him gently. She was a bit more subdued than normally, looking off to the side and tugging at her sleeves. She was nervous, unsure how he'd react.

His grip tightened just the slightest bit, a big smile naturally grew on his face as he tried to make his emotions plain. He brought his large hand down, entirely covering the top of her head and ruffling her hair.

"I'd love to attend Munch, when's your birthday happening?"

"My birthday's on December 14th! It's halfway from Daddy's so its his half birthday too! He said we should tell people before so they have time to plan!"

Hmm okay, so Danny's birthday was June 14th and he's invited to Ellie's birthday party in a couple of weeks. One that her other aunts and uncle will likely be attending.

"I'll be sure to mark it down on my calendar," he replied. "Is there any gift you want in particular?"

"Hmmmm, oh! A rocket! Or a yeti! Or or or a spear! Or maybe a slingshot or a pair of wings! *Gasp* OR A PUPPY LIKE CUJO!"

Ah yes, machinery, animals and weaponry. All normal things for a little girl to want.

"Why a spear?"

"Spears are cool!"

"Fair enough," he conceded. "I'll see what I can do."

"Hey since its Daddy's half birthday you should get him something too! But something small since its not his real birthday." She told him, smiling yet subdued. "We were still moving during his real birthday so he didn't really get real presents, everyone just came over to help."

"Hmm any ideas what he'd want?"

"Daddy likes space a lot. And making things. He likes to you too. I think he'd like anything that made you think about him." she told him as if she wasn't dropping info that made Jason's heart leap.

He nodded a bit flustered, and rushed to reply. This was a good a chance as he'd get to bring it up. Something in him screamed "Now! Now's your chance to ask! you have to do it now!"

"I like him too. A lot, actually." he began, swallowing his pride and his nerves. "Ellie I wanted to ask you something."

"Hmm?" she tilted her head at him inquisitively. Jason crouched down and held her hand before continuing.

"Elle, I like your dad a lot. He makes me laugh and smile. He makes me feel warm and happy. I care about him. And I care about you too. Your both so.. incredibly important to me. And, well I- I wanna ask for you permission."

"My permission?" she questioned, her brows furrowing suspiciously.

"I-... Would it be alright with you if I asked your dad on a date?"

"A date?" she parroted back at him like she didn't quite understand what he meant.

"Yes. I'd like to take him out, to do something fun with him. I want a chance to make him as happy as he makes me." he tried to get his point across.

"Oh!" she gasped in realization, "you want to court Dad!"

Her voice seemed surprised but steady.

"Yes," Jason confirmed. "I would like to court him. But I'll only do it if you're okay with me spending so much time with your dad. I don't wanna make you uncomfortable."

Ellie kept her body language surprisingly neutral for a 6 year old. She face was blank as she carefully stared deep into Jason's eyes. He could see the deep thoughts and mental calculations in her eyes. As if she as if trying to gauge his sincerity, to examining his soul for stains. Her silence was beginning to scare him. He wondered if perhaps he had too presumptuous.

Then, wordlessly, Ellie grabbed a heart-shaped strawberry from the bowl. Slowly, looking directly into his eyes, she crushed it in her tiny fist. Jason suppressed the urge to flinch. She maintained eye contact as she brought up the pink mush to her mouth, before she chewed and swallowed. She gave off such an intense aura it nearly made him shiver. It seemed to carry the implication in her actions.

That's what I'll do to you if you hurt him.

Jason gulped wordlessly but did not look away. He could understand the subtext of their interaction loud and clear, but it didn't matter. He loved Danny. And he loved Ellie too. He'd never want to hurt them. If Ellie didn't want him too, then he wouldn't. But until she said something he would keep meeting her head on.

Suddenly, her cold facade broke, giving way to a wide grin. She began to vibrate excitedly.

"Yes! You can have my permission to court Dad!" she declared.

Jason let out the breath he'd been holding. "Thank you, Princess," he said, grateful and relieved. His smile grew to match hers. He drew her into a hug and she returned it tightly.

Ellie tilted her head up and gleefully whispered in his ear. "I was gonna give you permission from the start, I just wanted to see you sweat a bit first."

Jason gasped before barking out a laugh. "You little menace!" he said fondly, tickling her stomach. "Where'd you learn to be so devious?"

"Hehe- nooooo, Haha. Uncle Jason, HAHAHA, stooop!" she shrieked.

"There is no more uncle Jason," he began gravely, "Only the TICKLE MONSTER!"

"Hahahaha- noooo! Hahaha!"

~

Danny came to pick up Ellie around five. Despite the blessing he obtained that afternoon, Jason decided not ask Danny out just yet. He wanted that moment to be special. So instead he just had another normal send off.

"Thanks again for watching her."

Danny stood in the doorway as Ellie gathered up her things.

"Like I said, its no problem," Jason waved him off, "Anything for my favorite neighbors." he teased.

Danny just smiled back fondly as Ellie rushed over with her bag.

"Alrighty then Ell, ready to go?"

"Yup! I just gotta say good by to Uncle Jason!" She turned and he crouched down to hug her. Similarly to what she had done earlier, Ellie placed her arms around his neck and brought her face close to his ear.

"Goodbye Uncle Jason!" she said at a normal volume before tilting her head to whisper in his ear. "Also, please try not to mess up with Dad. I like you and it would be a shame if you had to get knee surgery."

Jason really shouldn't have been as distracted as he was based on her prior behavior. She released him from her arms and in a flash she was bouncing down the hall as her dad trailed her.

Jason stood slowly, shaking his head. 'That precocious little spitfire had really threatened me. I should find it as cute as I do', he thought.

~~~

Group Chat Name Guide

I tried to make it obvious who was who but just in-case:

Dad-man: Bruce, play on Batman

CoachPretzelHead: Dick, he's a gymnastics coach in this au (not a cop) and it references his flexibility

AllSeeingEye: Babs, reference to Oracle

BossBaby: Tim, bc he's still currently CEO of Wayne enterprises

PurplePain: Steph, reference to Spoiler and the Prince song Purple Rain bc her mom likes the song even though she personally doesn't actually listen to his music

VeeseChiking: Damian, a play on his canonical love for the video game Cheese Vikings

(D)Re(a)dSon: Jason, play of words on "dread son", "red son", "read son",and "Jason"

TechnicallyADemigod: Duke, reference to how canonically his bio dad, Gnomon, is some immortal god dude

Also Not featured in this chapter but:

GrandBattementOfJustice: Cass, reference to the ballet move: grand battement (which is a high kick) and also to Black Bat, and the term "Hammer/Fist of Justice"

Mr.Bond: Alfred, its bc he's British and will use guns

[harmless-variety-of-garden-snake]

I saw a post today that made me sit up and go 👀 so for the kiss prompts if ur into it: SalBuckTommy with maybe 18, 36, or whichever sparks the most joy/inspiration <3

~ @wee-fuckin-woo :]

(...as encouragement, ...to give up control)

This is going to be borderline porn, sorry, I can't not with that idea and those men. I fused the two a little.

Sal is an asshole, but he's not a homewrecker. He's especially not going to wreck the home of Tommy, someone who's meant more to him over the years than he's ever been comfortable putting words to.

So when Buck starts giving him those shy little smiles and ducking his head and flushing all pretty and licking his lips when Sal's around, he backs off. He doesn't want to tell Tommy, but he doesn't want Buck to turn around and break the guy's heart by stepping out on him with someone else.

Tommy, bless his heart, seems to be oblivious to the whole thing. He doesn't treat Sal any different, doesn't back off on the hugs or the shoulder and neck squeezes, doesn't stop grinning at him over every little thing. It's the same it's been between them for years, the same easy affection that's sometimes spilled over into something more on lonely nights.

He's having dinner with them one night, and there's more wine than there should be. Sal brought a bottle (he was raised right, despite what some people might say) and Tommy had cracked one open before he arrived, so they're a couple bottles deep and scraping the remnants of dessert into their mouths when Sal feels a foot brush his calf.

They've all got long legs, Buck especially, and the table isn't especially huge. So he writes it off as someone stretching at first, and then it happens again. Sal looks across the table and sees Buck watching him, and he feels heat and anger flare in his chest.

"You're kidding me, right?" he says, nodding toward Tommy. "Does he mean nothing to you, kid?"

"That's not his foot, Salvatore," Tommy says dryly, and Sal's anger freezes in his throat. "But thanks for defending my honor."

Sal looks between them, sees the look they exchange, and understanding dawns on him.

"Oh," he says, brows raising. "So, what are we thinking here?"

"We're thinking," Buck says, getting out of his chair and coming around to Sal's seat, settling easily on his thighs and pressing his hands to Sal's suddenly heaving chest, "that you haven't been picking up any hints."

"For weeks," Tommy adds, swallowing his last mouthful of wine. "Months, actually."

He gets up and kneels next to the two of them, and Sal's struck as always by how pretty Tommy looks on his knees.

"Go ahead," Tommy encourages. "He's been wanting it for months."

Sal looks up at the kid perched on his lap, brings his hands up to cradle his neck and jaw, and draws him into a kiss. Yeah, sue him, he's thought about kissing Buck a whole lot. He's beautiful, he's sweet, he's sharp, he's brave, he's enough of an idiot that he'll put up with Tommy's bullshit. So maybe he'll put up with some of Sal's.

When he feels Tommy's hand curl around the back of his neck, he turns his head and kisses him, too. Fuck it, if he's going to give in to them, he might as well give up any ounce of self-control he's been clinging to while he's been been flirted with for months by these two.

"C'mon," Buck says, sliding off his lap. "There's a really big, brand new bed in our room."

"I know," Sal snarks. "I moved the fuckin' thing in."

"Yeah, and then you ran off before we could ask you to fuck one of us on it, so let's go," Buck says, grabbing him by the wrist and tugging.

They kiss in every combination they can on their way to the bedroom and even try for one of those three-way kisses, breaking down into buzzed giggles.

"Think we might be too Italian for that," Tommy says, rubbing his nose after he'd smashed it against Sal's.

"You sayin' I got a big nose, Kinard?" Sal teases.

"I'm sayin'," Tommy says, bullying him up against the wall and grinning at him, sly and pretty, "shut the fuck up, Deluca, and show me what you got."

"You know what I got," Sal reminds him, looking over at Buck. "But he doesn't."

"Happy to find out," Buck says, coming at him from the side and kissing his jaw.

It's like being swept up in a riptide and yanked out to sea, having these two all over him, and Sal closes his eyes and gives in.

[literaila]

three things

gojo satoru x fem!reader

summary: a fun trip to the grocery store (how do you raise children?)

warnings: a bit of anxiety, a bit too much of gojo

last part | next part

*

year one.

"no, satoru." 

how many times have you said that today? 

how many times has satoru pouted--like he's doing right now--and put back whatever he'd plucked off the shelf, grumbling something about how you hated him or you weren't his mom or how he was the one buying everything? 

oh, too many times to count. you stopped after five. 

megumi rolls his eyes with you, already familiar with this routine, looking at everything in the cart again with the same analytical eye he's had since you all walked into the store. you're pretty sure he's counting the total cost.

it might be cute--the way his frown deepens just a little bit after each new item is added--if it didn't worry you completely. 

because it's the first time you've taken the two of them to the store, and the first time you're trying to recall everything their eyes trail over, the things they want but neither of them will say.

you're trying to remember yourself as a kid--if you begged your parents for anything you could possibly want, or if you stood there and stared longingly. but your childhood has always been a dull memory you keep hidden in the attic of your mind. 

so you're not sure what to expect. 

because neither of them has asked for much, since the first night. tsumiki requested a notebook she could draw in, and megumi asked if you could get gojo to stop talking to him. 

the first which you did immediately, even letting gojo get her some expensive pencils to draw with, the second which you... tried. 

it hasn't been easy, the past few days. settling two kids into a dysfunctional house didn't exactly fit into your schedule for the week. 

"why not?" satoru demands, walking right along slide you, pushing the cart because you'd forced him to. "we need dessert." 

"there are seven different types of dessert already in there. i'm hiding at least three of those, by the way." 

"i'll find them," satoru grins mischievously, but waves a hand. "we've got two extra people in the house now. i'm not just shopping for me. do you want them to starve?" 

you roll your eyes, again. then pull on his hair, which he squeaks at. "you're only shopping for you. i've seen your pantries, you know. and i lived with you for three years. we all saw your grocery lists." 

satoru is about to say something, but tsumiki giggles. maybe at the stupid way his face looks. 

the way he's almost smiling, even in denial. how his eyes show from just behind his glasses, his brows moving like a separate entity on his face. 

you haven't really talked to him, the past couple of days. nothing beyond a question about megumi's technique, or where the two of them went to school. 

how long will it take before you finally ask him--

you look over to tsumiki, shaking your head at satoru and smiling back. 

"megumi doesn't like sweets much," she adds to you, easily.

you add it to the mental list of things you know about them.

you look at the little boy, and he nods, looking straight ahead. his shoes catch on the ground every couple of steps like they don't fit right. 

satoru gasps like this is an outrage. because not drinking straight sugar is offensive to him. 

"what?" he asks, stopping all three of you so he can grab megumi by the shoulders. "were you cursed?" he inspects the boy carefully, peering over the glasses on his face.

megumi seems to sink back with each glance of his eyes, his face turning red. 

"cursed to deal with you, maybe," you tell him, pushing him away from megumi. the boy fixes his hair--which had been pushed over his eyes--and glares at satoru.

"he doesn't like sweets?" the man repeats, mouth open, glancing at all three of you like he's not sure that any of you are sane.

"you say that as if you don't eat enough for all four of us." 

"i need the calories," satoru whines, fluttering his eyelashes at you. you ignore him--and the funny way you feel about the gesture.

you look at both of the kids, observing the two of you closely, and give them a look. a look as in, he's crazy. 

megumi swallows. "i like dango." 

"great!" you nudge satoru to keep walking. "we'll get some." 

"that's it?" satoru prods. "what about--" 

you pinch his hip and shake your head, glaring at him when he pouts at you again. 

you step on his heels as you walk through the aisles, still watching the kids with sharp eyes, trying to figure out anything they might want. 

tsumiki murmurs something to megumi every once and a while, but beyond that, they only walk alongside you and satoru, stepping out of the way of any other adults that pass by. 

honestly, you might as well have taken them to the park. they don't even glance at any of the shelves--except when satoru pushes one of them away to grab something. at least at the park, they'd be getting some fresh air. 

after you sigh in--what? frustration? disappointment?--for the fourth time, satoru gives you a look, raising his brows. you shake your head. 

he nudges you with his shoulder but doesn't say anything. whistling while he sneaks more sugar into the cart. 

after the fifteenth minute of this, megumi falls in stride beside you and you look down at him. his eyes evade yours, focusing on the necklace you're wearing instead.

"um, i have to use the restroom," he says to you, soft and embarrassed. 

"okay," you place a hand on his back, gently turning him around, "i think it's just over here," you say, listening as satoru follows along idly. 

"me too," tsumiki says, trailing on your other side. 

the store is almost completely empty, so you tell the two of them that you'll wait right outside the door, and lean against the wall, watching the both of them disappear. 

satoru is already looking at you. 

"what?" you groan, glaring at the doors. 

"what what?" 

you sigh. his voice is annoying. "why are you looking at me?" 

satoru is too close for comfort, his arm brushing against yours--uncomfortably of course because he is the worst--without a care in the world. "what's up?" 

"what do you mean?" 

"why are you acting weird?" 

"i'm not acting weird," you look at him, frowning. 

he's wiping his glasses on his shirt--like he can actually see out of them--and looking at you quizzically. "oh, so you staring at tsumiki and megumi like they're a science experiment isn't weird?" 

you ignore him and his stupid blue eyes. 

"if i was doing that you'd push me down a flight of stairs, but okay..." 

you sigh again, rolling your eyes. and then again. and then you relent because satoru's silence will inevitably break you. "they haven't asked for anything," you say, almost whining to him. "you told them they could pick out whatever they want." 

satoru shrugs. "so they don't want anything." 

"everyone wants something, satoru. especially kids." 

"everyone?" 

"yes. i'd expect you to know better than anyone," he laughs but you frown. "it's a human trait." 

he smirks, leaning down towards you. "what do you want, then?" 

you scoff, flicking his forehead. "i want them to feel comfortable. and i want you to stop bugging megumi." 

"but he makes it so easy," satoru says, pretending to be innocent.

"you're the adult, here," you say, even though you don't really believe it--nor should you. "act like it." 

"all the kid does is scowl," satoru complains. "i'm just trying to make him comfortable." 

"by invading his space?" 

"you stare from far away, i stare from up close." 

"you antagonize." 

satoru grins, crossing his arms, very pleased with himself. he's silent again. 

the past year has almost made you forget that satoru knows you like this. he's always known how to keep you talking, how to read your face and your hesitant glances. 

it's not like time could make him forget. it's not like you've forgotten anything about him. 

"you aren't worried?" you ask, after a second. 

"about the kids?" 

"yes," you say, obviously, "that we're already messing something up." 

he gives you a dubious look. "it's been four days." 

and he's right. you can't expect to understand either one of them after seventy-two hours of merely knowing about their existence. but you don't know how to treat kids like these, because any mistake you make--anything you say--will inevitably come back to haunt you. 

"it's--" you shake your head. satoru doesn't worry about anything, so you don't even know why you're bringing it up. "it's like when you play with someone else's kid and feel like you're breaking some unspoken rule. except this time we're the ones making the rules. there's no one to tell us if we mess up." 

"i think megumi would tell us," satoru answers, almost sarcastically. 

"he's the kid, idiot," you groan. "he doesn't know." 

"rude," satoru is still grinning. "what could you have messed up, at this point? all you've been doing is asking them questions. that's pretty straightforward." 

"maybe it's too much, too fast." 

satoru snorts, shaking his head at you. "grocery shopping?" 

"everything." 

satoru raises a brow at you, watching as you deflate. you feel like each move you make takes a little more air out of you, and who's to say when you'll finally run out? 

how many mistakes do you have to make to finally get it right? 

and you know--and you know that he knows--that it's not just about them, but about you. is this too fast? is this too much?

satoru rests a hand on your head. "you're too in your head about this." 

"well, i have to do it for the both of us." 

he ignores that. "if they need something, they'll ask," the words are soft, genuine. he's completely sure like he always is. "you made it clear that we're just here to help. it's been four days." 

you sigh, nodding reluctantly. 

"we'll figure it out," he says, simply. "you don't need to worry about anything. i mean, i'm here, so..." 

you push his hand away, glaring. "megumi doesn't even talk to you." 

"hey, yes he does." 

"to call you a freak, maybe. or tell you to shut up." 

"don't be jealous of my relationship with megumi. we're bonding." 

you roll your eyes but find a laugh making its way out of you. 

he's always been good at this, too. making everything seem easy. 

when tsumiki comes out of the bathroom door, she smiles at the sight of the two of you still there--both talking animatedly, with similar glares in your eyes. she settles in beside satoru, copying him as she leans against the wall. 

"you think i'm great, don't you tsumiki?" satoru asks her, goading. 

she nods immediately. 

you snort and look away while tsumiki giggles when satoru leans down to smack a kiss on her cheek. 

something inside of you warms, just briefly. 

and then megumi comes out, rubbing his hands together. unlike tsumiki, he glares at satoru and chooses to stand beside you. 

"okay," satoru clasps his hands together. "are you both ready to go?" 

"um," you turn to him. "satoru we haven't--" 

megumi nods immediately, looking a bit brighter at the prospect, and tsumiki furrows her brows, questioning. 

"great! both of you pick out three things that you want and then we'll leave." 

megumi glowers. 

"three things?" you clear your throat. "they need more--" 

"three things," satoru repeats, looking right at megumi while he says it. some words pass non-verbally between the two of them. you might have to tell satoru not to talk to megumi about anything without you. "we'll get everything else we need." 

tsumiki runs alongside megumi and grabs his arm, which he allows, though you watch his eyes roll. 

"go on," satoru shoos them away, smiling all proudly. when they're gone, he turns to you again. "there. now you don't have to worry about picking something they like." 

and he reaches his hand to grab yours, as a simple habit. 

satoru has never tip-toed around the line of physical contact. even with shoko, even when she would push him off.

something passes between the two of you. holding his hand is familiar; egged on by four years of standing alongside him. 

you try not to flinch away from the contact. 

and, sure, satoru probably just lost both of them in the store, and you don't actually have everything else you need, or know what those things are, but he's smiling at you. 

he's trying to be reassuring. 

so you smile back and let him hold your hand. 

"we'll figure it out," he whispers to you, and you push the cart this time while the two of you try to find the children he just lost.

*

later that night--after forcing satoru to put away the groceries with the rest of you--megumi lets you sneak into his room with a (third) bag of candy that satoru grabbed last second, acting like you wouldn't notice. 

"where's the best hiding spot for this?" you ask him, looking around.

it's pretty doubtful that satoru would risk going into megumi's room just to look for it. and, you're sure, that megumi probably wouldn't let satoru open the door, nonetheless go through his things.

the boy points at his dresser and moves some clothes so you can hide it at the bottom of one of the drawers. he doesn't even question your motivations.

as you back out of the room again, you make him promise not to tell, and, for a single second, megumi smiles back at you, crossing his heart. 

*

next part

[wcnderlnds]

you and i | peter maximoff

・❥・ summary: peter loves his daughter very much and wants another one ・❥・word count: 1.9k ・❥・warnings: 18+ smut, nsfw. unprotected p in v. swearing. female reader. ・❥・ authors note: we all love dilf!peter so i tried. the smut is badly written pls be gentle im still trying to get more confident writing it. also i went with katya for the name bc always headcanon his family is from europe/sokovia.

Never in a million years did Peter think he’d ever settle down. He’d always thought of himself as a loner – someone who would be happy by himself for the rest of his life and he had no problem with that. Commitment had always been something that he feared. Maybe it was something to do with his dad leaving his mom before he was even born. He’d never had a good father figure to look up to when it came to… well, anything. All the people around him had severely unhealthy relationships so he never wanted to be a part of one himself. Peter would much rather hook up than settling down and being unhappy with someone. As much as there was some part of him that idolised his father, he never wanted to be like him. Being a let down was one of Peter’s worst fears. All he wanted to do was make sure his mom and sisters were taken care of. If he was doing that then he was doing something right. He didn’t need a relationship or another person to make him happy.

That was until he met you.

It had been a chance encounter at the arcade. You had been occupying his favourite Donkey Kong machine. There were others but that one was his. So, annoyed, he leaned against one of the other machines with arms across his chest obnoxiously blowing a bubble with his gum. When you finally did step away, he ran over quicker than you could even say Donley Kong to get his machine back letting out a loud ‘what the fuck�� when he saw that you’d beat his high score. Peter had tried for the whole day to get his name back at the top but it was no use. As you tried walking out of the arcade, he had caught up to you bombarding you with questions about how you'd done it and if you’d cheated. All you’d done was smile and tell him it was a secret. That was enough to keep him hooked. Day after day the two of you would meet at the arcade. Peter would find himself seeking you out. When he’d started to get little heart flutters every time you smiled at him or any time you’d beat him at a game, he freaked out. Feelings like that weren’t something he was used to. In fact, he’d never had feelings quite like it before. It was all new to him.

Over time he had come to accept that you had won his heart. Somehow, someway you had wormed your way in there and he couldn’t get enough of you. All he wanted to do was spend every second with you. The relationship had blossomed so naturally – it all came so easy to him. Being with you felt like heaven, it made him the happiest he’d ever felt in his life. He had convinced himself so much that he didn’t need anyone but himself but he did. He needed you and he wouldn’t live the rest of his life without you. So, he had proposed at the arcade where the two of you had first met. It wasn’t overly romantic but it was Peter coded and that was more than you could’ve asked for.

Now, two years on, the two of you were married with a two year old daughter. Peter had taken to being a dad like it was the easiest thing in the world. He was so fun and caring. There wasn’t anything he’d do for his little girl. Katya was his whole world.

“Oh sh-” Peter instantly stopped knowing if you heard him swearing in front of your kid, you’d kick his ass. “...shizzle.” As he’d walked into the room, he’d noticed that Katya had drawn all over the wall with crayon.

To be fair, that had been his fault. You’d told him before you left for work to put the crayons out of reach because Katya was in her ‘destruction’ era and wanted to draw on any and every surface she could get her hands on. In true Peter fashion, though, he’d been distracted. The newest Pac Man game had his attention. He just had to beat it before you did because - he’d never admit this - you were better than him. It was one of the reasons he’d fallen in love with you in the first place.

But, right now, he had to clean this shit off the walls before you got home and gave him the scolding of a lifetime. “Alright, baby girl, come here.”

Katya grinned instantly dropping the crayons as Peter crouched down in front of her. With wobbly legs, she got to her feet and slowly toddled into his arms. He picked her up, holding her tight to him. Her little smile was enough to almost make him put her back down and let her carry on showing her artistic skills on every wall in the house.

“You’re gonna get me in sooooo much trouble, Kitty Kat,” he booped her little nose to which she grabbed his finger between her small ones. It was enough to melt anyone’s heart. He placed her in her crib with promises of snacks once he’d got the walls all cleaned up.

It was a few hours later when you got back home. The house was oddly quiet. Usually you’d come home to the sounds of Peter chasing Katya around the house or him teaching her naughty words that he definitely shouldn’t be teaching her but there was nothing. That made you slightly worried. Your footsteps on the wooden floors echoed off the walls as you peeped into your daughter's room but she was fast asleep in her crib. So, where was Peter?

When you walked into your bedroom, you spotted him easily. His mess of silver hair could be spotted a mile away. He was sprawled out on the bed, his face buried in the pillows, limbs spread out all over the place. It brought a smile to your face. Careful not to wake him, you sat on the edge of the bed, running your fingers gently through his hair.

“Feels good,” he mumbled sleepily into the pillows. Sometimes you forgot how much of a light sleeper he was.

“Hey sleepy head,” you greeted him, kicking your shoes off to lay on the bed beside him. Peter’s head turned slightly to see you. His tired eyes meeting yours, sending a jolt of electricity through your body. Even now years later, he was still the most handsome man you’d ever laid eyes on. His dark brown eyes, his perfect nose and the stubble that adorned his face was enough to make any person melt. It was still mind blowing that this man was yours.

“Your daughter is a menace,” he wrapped his arms around you, rolling over to pull you onto his chest.

“She gets that from you.”

“Nuh-uh, you.”

“Definitely you. You’ve been a menace since the day I met you.” Your lips brushed against his.

“You love me anyway,” he kissed you, lips moving together slowly. “We should have another one.”

With a furrowed brow, you pulled away to look at him. “Another…?”

“Kid, babe. Baby. Y’know, that little human we have in the other room? Yeah, we should make another one of them.” His eyes were hopeful, almost pleading.

“You’re serious?”

“Yeah! I mean, I’m fuckin’ exhausted and sometimes this whole parenting thing is real hard but… it’s worth it. Having a family with you, being a dad… it’s everything I never knew I wanted. You make me want this, babe. So, why not have another one? Kat’s old enough now for us to bring another one into the fray.”

It was another big step for the two of you. Could you really handle two children? You were always the most practical one out of you and Peter. He mostly followed his heart while you followed your brain. It was probably one of the reasons why you were so perfect for each other. It was the look in Peter’s eyes that really sealed the deal. He wanted this. He really, really did. Watching him be a dad, the way he loved your daughter — it was everything you had ever wanted.

“Okay,” you cupped his cheek, the pad of your thumb stroking against his soft skin. “Let’s have another little Maximoff.”

Peter didn’t say another word. Instead, he flipped you over so you were on your back, lips lazily attaching to yours. It took him no time at all to have your dress off and tossed to the floor, his own shirt and sweatpants following. His hips lazily, slowly grinded against yours, the feeling of his growing bulge rubbing against your core. Peter could already tell how turned on you were by the small gasps that left your lips, the way your nails were digging into his sides as you held on to him. He moved his way down your body, lips leaving a trail of wet kisses down your neck and between the valley of your breasts. Hands snaked behind your back to unclasp your bra.

“Want you so bad,” he mumbled against your stomach as he trailed lower down your body. Your panties were off in one swift movement. When Peter got impatient his powers always came into play. One of his long fingers trailed up your slit, your arousal coating his finger. That was apparently all the restraint he had because before you knew it, his boxers were off and the head of his cock was prodding at your entrance.

“Peter, please,” you pleaded with him, bucking your hips against his erection. He didn’t need telling twice as he slowly pushed into you. His eyes almost rolled back at the feeling of your warm walls squeezing around him. He buried his head in the crook of your neck, his hand lacing your fingers together as he slowly thrust into you. Going slow was never Peter’s forte but right now, he was too tired to care. This was gentle and it was perfect.

Your free hand tangled in his hair, lightly tugging on the strands as he tortured you with his slow, lazy pace. He was tired, exhausted but he wanted nothing more than to put a baby inside you and what better time was there to start than the present. He brought his forehead to rest against yours, your breathy moans mingling with his.

“I love you,” he whispered against your lips. His thrusts losing rhythm as he felt his release closing in. He sped up and you took this as your opportunity to wrap your legs around him. Peter groaned, angling his hips to hit deeper.

It only took a few more shallow thrusts before he stilled, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he came inside you. The sounds leaving his lips enough to trigger your own, a cry of his name leaving you as your walls clamped down on him.

Peter collapsed on top of you in a heap of sweaty, heavy breaths. His lips pressing light kisses against your neck as you both came down from your shared high. “Think we made a baby yet?”

It took you a minute to register what he said. You laughed breathlessly, your hand lightly running along his back. “Dunno, might have to keep at it just to really make sure.”

Peter grinned. Even in his completely exhausted state, he felt like the happiest man on the planet because he had everything anyone could ever ask for, something he’d always wanted — a loving family.

tag list (ask to be added or removed): @ldydeath @jazz-berry @lemoniiiiiii @bohnerrific69 @honeymoon8 @lacucarachapisser @evanpetersbf

[honey-on-your-tongue]

Warnings: depictions of blood/blood kink.

Mean Miguel O'Hara x fem!reader

-----

Miguel isn't the type to ever be smitten. He's not the kind to stare after some pretty girl that gives him eyes, and he's not the kind to flirt around. Ever. And he was pretty sure you were going to be just another of the many spiders he's worked with.

You're not. He's head over heels for you.

Funny, witty, persistent. You take no shit from anyone. Not even from him. You've never been afraid of him, when he snaps or yells or makes his usual snarky comments, you don't even blink. You cross your arms, level his gaze, shift your weight to one of your hips and call him out. Calm and collected, your voice full of authority and confidence, and it always manages to shut him up. He'll purse his lips and turn away from you. Then you know you've won.

Not today.

Today, you walked away first. He yelled at you in a fit of rage even though the issue hadn't even been your fault.

"Miguel. Take it easy,” you tried to calm him down. “We'll fix this. We always do.”

“The fuck would you know? All you do is make more of a mess.”

“No. I don't. I'm here to help.”

He scoffed. “Help? You're useless. All you ever do is annoy everyone around you. No one stands you.” His eyes had met yours and he'd snarled, “Everyone hates you.”

And you knew it wasn't true. But it still hurt. You'd clenched your jaw, eyes narrowing at him. And then you turned around and walked away.

No one saw you the rest of the day.

Guilt has been eating at him all day. He's in his bedroom, pacing from one side to the other, hands tangled in his hair, sharp teeth digging into his lower lip.

“Fuck,” he growls at himself. He doesn't want to, but he's going to do it anyway.

You're sitting on your bed, a cigarette between your fingers. You exhale the smoke slowly, wiping away a tear that rolls down your cheek.

A portal opens in your room and you sigh. You're expecting Peter to show again, fully intending on comforting you again.

Instead, Miguel shows. When you see him, surprise rushes through you, but you're quick to mask it.

“Took a wrong turn, did you?” you say flatly. You take a drag from your cigarette and he frowns.

“Didn't know you smoked,” he mumbles, not waiting for an invitation. He steps closer to you and sits beside you on the bed.

You hum.

He swallows his pride. “That's not good for you, sabes. It'll kill you.”

“Yeah, thanks, dad,” you spit. “Is that what you came here to do? Point out all my mistakes and tell me how I'm gonna die?”

He sighs. “I'm trying to apologize, kid.” That stuns you into silence. “I...overstepped.”

“Understatement,” you mutter, putting your cigarette out.

He huffs silently. “This is fucking ridiculous,” he sighs. “Look. I didn't mean what I said. I was...upset. You-you know how I get when things don't go my way. And it...It was a low blow. I'm sorry.”

You blink at him. “Say that again?”

He throws you a glare, but sucks it up. “I'm sorry,” he says between clenched teeth. “I didn't mean it, alright.” He huffs a thick sigh, looking away from you, his gaze focused straight ahead. “And it's not true anyway. It was a cheap lie.”

You smile slightly, nudging his shoulder with yours. “I know that. I'm too much of a likeable person.”

He turns to look at you, that sharp gaze making you freeze. Your breath hitches, mouth inching open, and his eyes fall to your lips.

You swallow, drawing his eyes to the dip of your throat. He meets your gaze.

“Miguel...” Your voice is a soft, quiet sound. A low purr that makes his blood rush south.

“Ven acá,” he growls, huge hands moving to cup your face. He pulls you closer, kissing you roughly, sharp canines poking your lower lip.

You gasp, palms pressing to his chest. He kisses you rough, hungry, like he's been aching for you all this time.

His hand slides from your cheek to your neck, down your arm to your waist. He tugs you closer, your leg pressing against his.

Your hand finds one of the buttons of his shirt and starts fiddling with it. He smirks against you, hands moving to your hips to drag you onto his lap.

He makes a low, contented sound against your lips when your clothed core rubs against his hard cock. He slides his tongue into your mouth, tasting the cigarette you'd been smoking.

Your hands hold onto his shoulders, nails digging into his skin slightly. Almost instinctively, your hips start grinding on his, a whine leaving you.

He grunts slightly, starting to guide your movements in small circles, your clit rubbing against the thick tip of his cock, making you jerk in his grasp.

“Princesa,” he hums, “let me make it up to you.”

You meet his gaze. His pupils are blown wide, eyes darkened with lust. You don't even have to _think_ about it.

“Alright,” you say. “As long as you don't leave me waiting.”

He chuckles lowly. His hand moves to your thighs, thumbs caressing the inside of your thighs, inching higher until he's rubbing your cunt through your jeans.

You exhale softly, swallowing hard. He pops the button open, unzips your jeans, his knuckles grazing against your soaked folds.

You quiver on top of him. “Miguel.” It's a soft sigh, a breathless plea for more.

He dips his mouth into the crook of your neck. His tongue is warm, wet as it drags over your pulse.

He lifts you slightly, helping you out of your jeans before pulling you back onto his lap. His rough fingers caress you through your panties, gathering your slick until his fingers are dripping with it.

He raises his fingers to his lips, licks your arousal off. You blush as you watch, a wave of desire crashing over you and flooding your senses. He can barely contain himself at your taste.

He wants to toss you onto the bed, bend you over it and fuck you hard and fast. He wants you on top, wants to make you bounce on his cock until you're crying with ecstasy. He wants to tie you up, watch you squirm as he makes you come over and over and over, making sure you feel nothing but pleasure.

He pulls your panties aside, his digits quick to find your clit. You barely have time to react when he's already rubbing the nub in tight circles, his sharp teeth dragging over your jaw.

You whine, hips bucking, thighs tightening around his hips. “Fuck,” you hiss, eyes shut tight.

“I'm sorry, princesa,” he says. “Didn't mean to make you feel bad. Never meant to hurt you.” He nibbles your shoulder, his fingers pulling away from your clit. He tugs your panties and you lift your hips to take them off. Instead, he holds you down against him and tears your panties off.

You gasp at the sound of the thin fabric tearing, and he chuckles. “Después te compro más, princesa.” I'll buy you more later. “Don't worry about it.”

You nod. “Yeah, alright.”

He considers throwing the ruined panties aside, but he ends up tucking them in the front pocket of his jeans. He knows he's going to find a bunch of uses for it on those late nights he can't fall asleep.

He runs his fingers up your slit, spreading your folds and tracing your slick entrance with his middle finger. You shiver and he digs his teeth into his bottom lip.

“Princesa,” he groans, “look at how wet I've got you. You pretty, pretty thing...” He kisses your jaw, sharp teeth grazing your skin. He slides his thick middle finger into you, feeling your soft walls clench around him.

You moan softly, a breath leaving your lips. Your nails dig into his shoulders, a shaky exhale escaping you. “Miguel,” you say quietly, beginning to move your hips against his hand. “Ahh...”

He slides a second finger into you and grunts at the sound you make. He curls his fingers, pressing against your g-spot and making you whimper. His thumb catches your clit, drawing neat circles on it.

“Princesa, there's something I wanna teach you,” he says against your shoulder. “Want to make you feel something new.”

“Yeah?” you question, breathless.

You can feel him grin against your skin. “Has anyone ever made you squirt?”

You shudder. “No,” you reply, eyes fluttering shut. “Never.”

Miguel smirks. “Then it'll be my pleasure to teach you, princesa.”

You shiver, whimpering lowly. His fingers touch every right spot, with the perfect pressure and rhythm.

He pulls his face back a little so he can see you, his eyes watching your every reaction. He admires the way you tremble, your plump lips open as moans and whimpers leave you.

His eyes glisten with a predatory lust that has you shivering. And then he kisses your mouth, hard and hungry, almost bruising your lips with his. He licks you, his tongue sliding into your mouth to taste you.

You whine softly, legs quaking, and he moans lowly, a deep rumble in his chest that makes your arousal spark.

He slightly grazes your lips with his sharp canines, making you gasp, and the sound sends an animalistic heat through his body. Almost involuntarily, he bites your lower lip, hard, not only bruising the soft flesh, but also drawing a little bit of blood.

You hiss at the sensation, the pain adding to the endless flow of pleasure within you. He licks at your blood, groaning at the taste of it.

You move a hand from his shoulder to the hair at the back of his head, tugging at the soft locks there. He growls out a moan, a sharp breath leaving him. “Princesa,” he says lowly, as if in warning.

You whine in response, your hips beginning to stutter against his hand. You can't breathe right and you're trembling almost violently. You can feel your orgasm nearing, growing within you like a balloon of warmth low in your stomach.

He can tell you're close. His eyes shine as he watches you, his cock twitching as your velvet walls clench around his fingers.

“Come on, princesa,” he says lowly, leaning closer to your ear,licking your earlobe. “You can do it for me, yeah? You can come for me, can't you?”

You nod, moaning. “Yes...Mhmm!”

“Muy bien, princesa,” he praises, eyes darkening. “Almost there, aren't you?”

You whimper, trying to reply. But the sensation within you is dizzying, stupefying. Your orgasm grows closer and closer, making your every moan nothing more than a pathetic little whimper.

And suddenly a new sensation takes over you, growing deep in your womb and spreading to the rest of your body.

“Miguel—” You don't get the chance to say anything else to him. Your body shivers and your orgasm is suddenly dragging you under, your eyes fluttering shut.

He gasps softly as you come, your body shaking as you squirt onto him. He can't glance away, can't stop moving his fingers. He just keeps going, stuck in a trance as he watches your arousal gushing all over him.

You whimper when the pleasure becomes too much, one of your hands racing to grab onto his wrist weakly.

“Miguel, 's too much.”

He stops his movements then, eyes rising to yours. “Oh, princesa,” he says, voice rough and deep. “You did so well. So good, cariño.” He pulls his fingers out of you, licking them clean as you watch.

You lean towards his ear and whisper, “Miguel, please, fuck me.”

He shudders as your breath caresses the skin of his neck. “Say it again,” he orders quietly.

You grin. “Miguel, fuck me. I want you inside of me. Need your cock in me.”

“Dios,” he grunts, eyes shutting as his cock jerks in his pants, eager. “Esa boca tuya, princesa...Tienes carita de ángel y aun así...” That mouth of yours, princess...You have an angel's face and yet... “Capable of being so, so dirty. It drives me fucking crazy, princesa.”

He picks you up, placing you face down on the bed, one of his hands on your hip while the other one pushes you down against the mattress.

You gasp, back arching as he teases your raw, soaked folds with a finger.

He keeps his eyes on your cunt before moving them to your ass. His hands splay over the soft flesh, kneading it and squeezing it before he delivers a soft slap to it. You whine and his lips curl into a slight smirk.

He undoes his pants eagerly, pushing his jeans off, his underwear falling away with them. His cock springs free, the tip glistening with precum. He's so hard, he can't believe the way you affect him. It's insane how easy it is for you to turn him on and make him forget about everything else.

He runs the thick head of his cock between your folds and you shudder, hips jerking away before pressing back against his in search of more.

He holds tight onto your hips, fingers digging into your skin as he slides his cock into you.

You mewl at the sensation, gummy walls stretching to their limit, your legs trembling as he fills you to the brim. You gasp softly when the tip presses against your cervix and then some. You clench your hands around the bed sheets, your eyes shut tight.

“Fuck,” Miguel groans, his eyes locked on your cunt and how his entire cock has sunk deep into you with so much ease. “Oh, princesa, you've no idea how much I've wanted this.”

You whimper in response, not really able to say or do anything else.

His thrusts start out slow, measuring how much you can take while giving you time to adjust to his size. But soon, when he feels you're wet enough and you're rolling your hips against his in a desperate plea for more, he starts going faster, harder.

Your entire body quivers with each thrust, the breath leaving your lungs accompanied by little whimpers. Your eyes roll into the back of your head as he fucks you, and you're absolutely certain that you are going to pass out from the ecstasy.

“Princesa,” Miguel grunts, “I wanna try something else with you. May I?”

You nod, moaning out a squeaky, “Yeah,” as he keeps going.

He smirks, one of his hands leaving your hip to grab your hair and tug it hard, forcing your back to arch even more. He leans down to you, his chest against your back. You feel his lips on your shoulder, slowly trailing up to your neck, and then his teeth graze over your skin.

His sharp, sharp canines, send shivers down your spine. You shudder out a breath as he slightly bites you, the tip of his teeth digging into your skin.

He bites down a little harder, the pressure gradually increasing until his teeth sink into your flesh. You shudder, crying out as a shock of pain slices through you.

Miguel groans as blood starts flowing from you, its taste invading his senses. He licks your blood, reveling in the taste, and then he kisses the small wound he's inflicted.

You whimper, the pain adding to the pleasure and making your body shiver. You can feel the bliss within you growing into an unbearable entity within your womb, and you can't take it anymore.

“Miguel!” you whine, eyes fluttering shut, stars dancing behind your eyelids. “Miguel! I-I can't—! Fuck!”

“Shh,” he coos. “It's okay, princesa. Respira.” Breathe. “You're almost there.”

You cry out, biting down on the duvet to keep yourself quiet. Still, your little sounds echo in the room, growing louder as you reach your release.

Your orgasm tears through you, destroying whatever little was left of your composure. You shudder violently, body falling limp against the bed.

Miguel gasps as your cunt tightens around him, your arousal gushing out onto his cock. He keeps his hands on your hips, holding you up as your legs falter and give.

He thrusts into you a couple more times and then he comes, spurting his load deep into your pussy. You mewl weakly at the sensation, truly fucked dumb, and you can't do anything but feel him fill you up.

He grunts softly, grinding his hips against yours lightly before pulling out.

The two of you stay there for a moment, breathing heavily, bodies shaking from the shared effort. And then Miguel's quickly taking care of you.

He helps you onto your bed, laying you down gently and pushing your hair out of your face. He cleans you up with a towel, gathering your combined release with the soft material before tossing it in the laundry basket. He helps you into his shirt and he slides a pair of clean panties onto you.

Then, he lies beside you, his fingers tracing your skin, his eyes stuck on the way his shirt is too big for you because he's huge.

You cuddle up against him, your nose nuzzling into his chest. He smiles softly. “Am I forgiven, princesa?” he asks quietly, caressing your jaw.

You smile up at him, sleepily and pleased. “Yes. You absolutely are.”

-----

Blog masterlist

[eclipixels]

Believe

Yoichi Isagi x Reader

Content: You’ve known since childhood that Isagi had something unique about him and you see it evolve into something greater as you both grow up

[1,658 words]

      You first meet Yoichi Isagi on a warm spring afternoon, the sun dipping into the horizon as the neighborhood kids scatter across the small park. You’re barely more than five, a child with scraped knees and tiny hands grasping at the world, and so was he. A boy with messy black hair and bright blue eyes that sparkle with something fierce, something unshakable.

      He’s different from the others, you realize quickly. Not because he’s taller or stronger, but because there’s something about the way he looks at things. Sharp, calculating, even at such a young age. While other kids chase soccer balls mindlessly, kicking them without care, Yoichi watches. He waits. He moves like he’s already thought five steps ahead.

      And when he finally kicks the ball, it’s with precision that no five-year-old should have.

      “That was amazing!” you say, running up to him, eyes wide with awe.

      He grins at you, a little bashful but proud. “You think so?”

      “Yeah! How did you do that?”

      He tilts his head, thinking for a moment before shrugging. “I just… saw where the ball should go.”

      From that day on, you’re inseparable.

      Growing up with Isagi means seeing that fire in him up close, the way his eyes light up whenever he plays, how his face scrunches in concentration when he’s dribbling, the sheer exhilaration when he scores a goal.

      But it’s not just soccer. You notice it in everything he does.

      “Y/N, you should move your queen there,” he says one day while you play a simple game of chess against the computer.

      “Huh? Why?”

      “If you move here,” he taps a spot on the board, “you’ll be able to set up a checkmate in three moves.”

      You stare at him, confused. “How do you even see that?”

      He shrugs again, like it’s the easiest thing in the world. “I just do.”

      You don’t realize it then, but you’re witnessing the earliest traces of his brilliance, the way he sees the world and processes things at a level most kids don’t.

      You leaned back in your chair, the frustration building up as you stared at the assignment in front of you. No matter how hard you tried, the numbers and equations just didn’t make sense. The page felt like it was mocking you, the lines blurring together as your mind scrambled to find some semblance of logic.

      “I don’t get it,” you huffed, pushing the paper aside and letting your forehead drop to the desk in defeat.

      Yoichi, who had been sitting across the room with his own work, glanced up at the sound of your frustration. He hesitated for a moment, but then stood up and walked over to your desk, his usual calm expression on his face.

      “What’s got you stuck?” he asked, his voice steady, with that familiar, reassuring tone that somehow always managed to settle the storm inside of you.

      You gestured at the paper, still feeling a little embarrassed. “This whole thing. I don’t even know where to start.”

      Isagi leaned over your desk, his eyes scanning the page for only a second before he tilted his head slightly, like he was figuring out the best way to explain it. There was something about the way he processed things, it wasn’t just that he understood; it was that he could break them down so easily, so naturally.

      “Okay,” he began, sitting down beside you, “let’s look at it like this.” He grabbed a pencil, and with quick, practiced movements, he began drawing simple diagrams on the side of your paper. His hand moved fluidly, as though he wasn’t just doing math, he was painting a picture, shaping the solution into something that was easy for you to see.

      Your hands accidently brushed up against each other as he explained, but he didn’t move it. He kept his pinky finger crossed over yours. Your cheeks were now dusted with red.

      You watched him, your frustration ebbing away as you listened to him explain in the simplest terms, breaking down the concepts like you were piecing together a puzzle. He didn’t rush you, didn’t make you feel dumb for not getting it right away. Instead, his focus was entirely on you, guiding you through it.

      “I think I get it now,” you said, blinking in surprise. You sat up straighter, finally able to follow along, feeling a little bit of pride in yourself. “That wasn’t so bad once you explained it.”

      Yoichi smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling with warmth. You couldn’t help but smile back, your heart skipping a beat at how effortlessly he helped you, how easily he made everything seem clearer. You found yourself wondering, as you always did, how it was that he could see things so clearly, not just in math or soccer, but in everything.

      And as you looked up at him, eyes still bright with the spark of understanding, you also wondered how he saw you.

      Was it the same way he saw the game? With that sharp, calculating mind that noticed things no one else did? Or was it something different, something warmer?

      And while you admire him, he never makes you feel small. If anything, he shares his world with you, pulling you into his orbit, encouraging you, supporting you, making you feel like you belong right there beside him. You couldn’t help but start to fall for him because of it.

      By middle school, Yoichi Isagi wasn't just a boy who liked soccer. He was a boy who breathed it.

      You see it in the way he spends hours on the field, practicing until sweat soaks through his uniform, in the way he mutters strategies under his breath, imagining plays no one else would think of.

      “I want to be the best,” he confesses to you one evening, sitting on the swings after practice.

      The streetlights hum softly above, casting long shadows on the pavement.

      You swing your feet idly, looking at him. “You already are amazing, Yoichi.”

      He shakes his head, frustrated. “Not enough. Not yet.”

      There’s something intense in his eyes, an almost desperate hunger. It should scare you, but it doesn’t. It fascinated you. What was going on inside of his head? And so, you stay by his side, watching as he chases his dream, as he pushes himself harder, as he starts to shine, hoping you could understand. You tried to push away the desires of your heart, as analytical as he was, you hoped he wouldn’t figure it out.

      By the time high school rolls around, Isagi isn’t just good. He’s phenomenal.

      You watch as he weaves through defenders effortlessly, as he scores goals that leave the crowd breathless. You hear the murmurs in the stands, the whispers about his vision, his strategy, his sheer genius. You see the way his teammates look at him, not just as a player, but as a leader. As someone destined for something greater.

      So when he lost nationals, it almost broke him. Almost.

      You find him sitting alone on the bleachers, staring up at the stars. His usual fire is still there, but there’s exhaustion too, something quieter, something more vulnerable. It was obvious he was devastated about the loss.

      You sit beside him without a word.

      After a while, he speaks. “Do you ever think about the future, Y/N?”

      You glance at him. “Sometimes.”

      He exhales, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sometimes I wonder if… if I’ll make it.”

      You frown. “Yoichi.”

      “No,” he murmurs. “I push myself so hard, but what if it’s not enough?”

      You grab his hand without thinking. “It will be enough. You will make it.”

      “How do you know that?” His mind raced, unable to grasp how anyone be so certain. How could anyone know for sure? What guarantee did he really have that everything he was working for, everything he had poured himself into, would be enough? That he wasn’t just fooling himself into chasing an impossible dream?

      “Because I know you, Yoichi. And I’ve seen you.” You say sternly, recalling every moment since you met him where he proved to be unique and exceptional.

      His breath caught in his throat, and for the first time, you saw that glimmer of vulnerability flicker in his eyes, the one that made him seem so human in spite of everything he’d achieved. For a moment, he didn’t speak, didn’t even blink—just looked at you. Really looked at you, as though he was seeing you for the first time. Why did you always know the right words to say?

      His body moved on its own, an impulse too strong to control. One heartbeat, two heartbeat, until he closed the distance between you, and before you could even process the moment, his lips were pressed against yours. It was soft at first, like he was testing the waters, unsure of whether this was real, whether it was right. But then, as if that one touch unlocked something deep within him, the kiss deepened, full of yearning and warmth, like he was pouring everything he felt into it. The years of self-doubt, the pressures of the world, the overwhelming expectations, they all seemed to melt away in that single, breathless moment.

      He pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours, and his breath came in soft, uneven pants. “You always believe in me,” he whispered, his voice so raw and vulnerable that it sent a shiver down your spine.

      You were left stunned, your heart hammering in your chest as you struggled to comprehend what had just happened. The world around you seemed to blur as you tried to catch your breath, the only sound the gentle rustle of the wind and the rhythmic rise and fall of your own lungs. The stillness of the night enveloped you, the crickets chirping in the distance.

      It seemed as if the stars in the sky themselves were watching you two.

[arlana-likes-to-write]

Celestial

Summary: Snapshots of your relationship with Kamala Khan. This story takes place in the Family AU.

Warning: fluff, small amount of angst, mention of panic attack, self harm, first kiss, shovel talks, Kamala is head over heals for the reader and the reader is trying their best, mention of past trauma

Note: Tagging @jusnough for the idea!

Word Count: 4.2K

It wasn’t the most ideal of timing. A lot was happening, especially with the trail you were preparing for. Your parents were stressed. You were stressed, which was 100% understandable, but Kamala wanted to plan something special and then maybe ask you to be her girlfriend. Baby steps. She couldn’t get ahead of herself. There was a plan. First, ask your parents permission to date you. Second, she needed to survive the shovel talk they no doubt had for her. Third, ask Tony for a favor. Finally, take you on a date and make it a great day. Easy. Simple. Kamala was going to throw up.

She found your parents in the kitchen. You had a checkup with Helen, so it was a perfect time to walk to them. Natasha saw her first while Wanda focused on the lunch she was making. “She should be done soon,” the Black Widow said to her. “She’s with Helen.”

“I know,” Kamala said. “I was wondering if I could speak with the both of you.” Natasha raised an eyebrow in question. Kamala believed she was fearless. She fought alongside the Avengers, looked danger in the eye, and did not back down. It was impressive for a high school student. Starring down your parents was a new level of fear she’d never experienced. “I want to take Y/n on a date, and I know she has a lot going on, but I want to do something nice for her,” the couple stayed quiet. “She means a lot to me,” Kamala decided to continue. “I don’t know everything she has been through, but I know I’d never hurt her like that. I mean, I may hurt her. But not intentionally,” she added on quickly. “I am sometimes an idiot,” Wanda chuckled. “I think I should shut up.”

“Probably for the best kid,” Natasha smirked. Kamala cringed and scratched the back of her head. The Black Widow leaned on the counter and narrowed her eyes at Kamala. “You are about our daughter,” Kamala nodded. “Being with her won’t be easy.”

“She’s been through a lot,” Kamala turned to look at Wanda. Some days may be good, others may be bad.” Again, she nodded her head. Kamala knew healing wasn’t linear, but she was ready to catch you when you needed her. “She may lash out, shut you out, or blame you for feelings she can’t place.”

“Are you committed to that?” Natasha asked.

“Yes,” Kamala answered without hesitation. It was not going to be easy, and she knew that. Even her friends told her to stay away, and she tried. But there was something about you that kept drawing her in: your shy smile, the soft look in your eyes when you hung out with your brothers, and your laugh. Your laugh was Kamala’s favorite. She loved hearing it.

“Okay,” Natasha said. But if you hurt her, not even Danvers will save you.” Kamala gulped and watched the couple focus back on making lunch.

“Right, got it. Aye, aye, captain,” Kamala gave them a salute, spun around, and headed towards Tony’s lab. Phase 1 and 2 was a success onto Phase 3.

Delete Created with Sketch.

Natasha sighed once Kamala was out of earshot. “What is it?” Wanda asked, nudging the Black Widow with her hip. Is it hard to believe our daughter is dating?”

“No,” she washed her hands and dried them. “Well, yes, but that means Hill won the bet.” The witch laughed and shook her head. She was not part of the bet between the older team members on how soon Kamala would ask you out. Natasha had her bets on after the trial, but the heart wants what the heart wants. Wanda knew how good Kamala was for you, but the mother bear inside her worried. You’ve gone through so much. She wanted to protect your heart as much as she could.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“Calm down,” Kate said. That was the opposite effect the archer was going for. It heightened your anxiety as you passed back and forth in her room at the Avenger tower.

“I don’t know what to do,” you said. “I’ve never been on a date before. Kamala approached you and asked if you wanted to hang out with her. You were to be ready at noon, and Happy would drive you to this secret location. She gave you no clue on where you were going. You were oblivious to this being a date until you turned around and saw the smirks on Tommy and Billy’s faces.

The twins teased you until you were a stuttering mess, which got them grounded. This caused you to panic, which led you here with Kate.

“Bug, I need you to breathe,” Kate said as if it was the simplest thing, but you couldn’t. You’ve gone on one ‘date’ since the Blip, and that was with Jason. That needed horribly. Everyone took something from you; they took and took until you were a husk of your former self. “It’s only Kamala.” It was a simple statement that was supposed to lessen your anxiety, but it made it worse. “Sit down,” you sat next to her, but your leg continued to bounce.

“Do you trust her?” You nodded. She’s done nothing to break your trust. “Does she make you smile? Laugh? Do you feel at ease when you are around her?” Again, you nodded. “Do you like her?”

“Yes,” you admitted.

“Then enjoy your day with her. You guys are just hanging out,” you nodded and stood up. Once again, you started to pace. At this point, you would pace a hole in the floor.

“Right,” you bite your thumb. “What do I wear?” You walked over to the archer’s closet. You had a limited wardrobe here, but you knew you could wear something that Kate or Yelena owned.

“Keep it casual. Maybe jeans and a cute top. Oh! Bring that sweater Wanda gifted you. You might get cold.” Your brain slowly processed what she said. She knew where Kamala was taking you. You spun around to face the archer. Kate was looking at everything in her room beside you.

“Where is she taking me?”

“I’ve sworn to secrecy and threatened by bodily harm if I told you.”

“Kate!” You whined and flopped on the bed next to her. She laughed at your dramatics and pushed you on your back.

“You are so cute when you throw a tantrum,” she pointed at your cheek. Your pout deepened. “Trust, bug. Trust that she knows you well enough to not push you out of your comfort zone.” You nodded. In reality, you wanted the date to go well. With the upcoming trial, you wanted to have a good day.

“I’m thinking about the blue jeans and the light pink top. The sweater will go nice with both.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The ride to the mysterious location was fun. You thought it would be awkward with Happy, but Kamala filled the silence with stories. When the car stopped, Kamala was quick to get out first. She opened your door, offered you her hand, and you took it. You stood at the corner of Central Park West and West 76th Street. Kamala spoke with Happy before he drove away. “Ready?” She asked you. You nodded and followed her to the American Museum of National History. You were surprised by the lack of people waiting to get in. A new exhibit opened about the advancement in modern medicine. You’ve been dying to go, but the increase in popularity caused considerable crowds to form at the museum.

Kamala gave you a reassuring smile and led you up the steps of the museum. Her hand is still holding tight onto yours. It was quiet when she opened the door, and no one was in the lobby. “Kamala Khan?” A worker walked over. It would help if you had listened to try to understand what was happening, but you were fascinated by how quiet it was. You could hear the slight hum of the air conditioning. There was no yelling of excited children or the echo of footsteps moving from one exhibit to the next. It was quiet, and you enjoyed it. A weight was lifted off your chest. The tingly feeling you sometimes felt when you were in crowds was gone.

Kamala squeezed your hand, and you looked at the girl. A teasing smile was on her face. “Were you talking to me?”

“I was but you seemed a little distracted,” you felt your body heat up and you mumbled a quiet, ‘Sorry.’ But Kamala shook her head. “Don’t be. Come on. The exhibit you want to see is over here.” You let the girl guide you.

“Kamala,” you said and forced her to stop. You could make a sign explaining the new pop-up. “What is going on? How are we the only people here?” Kamala looked down at the floor, embarrassed.

“I rented out the museum for us. We are going to walk through each exhibit for as long as you want, and then a few of the workers are going to set up food for us. Wanda made your favorite,” she explained. You were a little lost for words. They seemed stuck in the back of your throat. However, Kamala took your silence as rejection. “If you want to do something else, we can.”

“No!” You said suddenly. “Sorry,” you cringed at the sound echoing on the museum walls. “Why did you do this?” Kamala shrugged.

“You mentioned you wanted to see this exhibit but were worried about the crowds,” you mentioned it once. You made an offhand comment while you and Kamala were eating lunch at the tower. She finished training, but you weren’t sure if she was listening. She was. “I asked Tony for a favor, and he pulled some strings, so here we are.”

“I uh-,” you cleared your throat, desperately trying to keep your tears from escaping your eyes. “Thank you.” A smile formed on Kamala’s face, and you allowed yourself to feel butterflies form in your stomach.

“You’re welcome. Come on, let’s see why this exhibit is so cool and popular.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Kamala was not a fan of museums. You could tell she was trying hard to take in the information you were telling her. For the most part, she was doing well, and she wasn’t rushing you. She let you take your time - reading each plague and adding your commentary. You decided to cut her some slack when her stomach growled for food. How embarrassed she got was cute and led to where the food was. A table was set up in the Invisible Worlds display. The colors weren’t as bright and intense, but it was a unique experience to be here with no one else.

“Wanda helped me make paprikash,” Kamala said, pulling back your chair for you and taking her own when you sat down. “So if it’s horrible, blame her.” You chuckled and opened the food container. It was still warm and smelt great.

“Thank you for today,” you smiled. “I’ve been having a great time.” She took a few sips of her water and cleared her throat.

“I know you have a lot going on,” she offered you her hand, and you took it. “But I wanted to give you one good day and ask if you want to be my girlfriend,” you couldn’t stop the surprise noise that escaped your lips.

“Dating me won’t be easy,” you told her. “I come with a lot of baggage.”

“It’s a good thing I’m so strong,” she flexed her free arm. You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile on her face. “Seriously though, I want to be there for you and help carry some of that baggage.”

You weren’t sure how to give your baggage to someone. You had a track record of picking ones that hurt you. But Kamala was different. Kate made you admit how easy it was to be around her. She made you smile and laugh. You felt safe. “I may fuck this up,” Kamala smiled.

“Are you saying us?” You nodded.

“I am saying yes,” you smiled. “I am saying yes to being your girlfriend.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Kamala was multitasking, which wasn’t her strongest suit. She was trying to make you and her a plate of food while keeping an eye on you. She knew you would be quiet after the trial, but she was still worried. You seemed lost in thought while you sat near the fire pit. It wasn’t lit, but you were watching it as if the flames were there. “You are holding up the line,” Yelena said. Kamala jumped.

“Sorry, I was-”

“It is fine,” Yelena said, following her gaze to you. It was Billy’s turn to try to pull you out of whatever your mind was creating. “You are worried, I understand,” Yelena said, taking the plate meant for you and helping Kamala add to it.

“I’ve been waiting for you to come up to me,” Kamala saw the smirk on Yelena’s face. “Am I going to survive this shovel talk?”

“I am not going to threaten bodily harm, or my niece would never forgive me,” Kamala was thankful that the Romanoff-Maximoff family accepted you into their home. “This has been the happiest I’ve seen her in a long time; Kamala watched the Blonde put butter on a piece of corn for you. “Her heart has been broken by people who were supposed to protect it,” she sighed and looked at you. The Bartons were now with you. “I am surprised she was strong enough to offer it to someone else. You must be special,” Yelena handed the now full plate back to her. “Don’t misplace that trust.”

“I won’t,” Kamala said before Yelena could walk away. I may mess up, but I would never be like the others.” The Blonde looked over her shoulder, scanning Kamala up and down.

“I know,” the Black Widow smirked. “Just keep it that way, or there will be consequences.”

“I thought you said no to bodily harm,” Kamala called out after her. She heard Yelena laugh.

“I am a Black Widow,” she said. “I can do more than hurt you physically.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Maybe Kamala was overthinking it. Your phone could have died, you could have been sick, or something bad happened, and no one was telling her. It was strange that you missed a scheduled date and weren’t answering your phone. So it was a quick taxi ride from the tower to your house, and she was knocking on the front door. “Kamala,” Wanda answered the door. What are you doing here?”

“Is she here?” Kamala asked. “We were supposed to meet up, and she isn’t answering me, so I just need to make sure she’s okay and safe,” Wanda gave her a sad smile and stepped to the side. Kamala walked in and followed the witch into the kitchen.

“She’s in her room,” Wanda said, pouring her a glass of water and beginning to prepare a small board of snacks. “It’s not her intention to ignore you, but today was a bad day.”

“It’s been a bad day,” Kamala said slowly back and took a piece of cheese that Wanda offered. She remembered Wanda telling her that some days were bad. Wanda crossed her arms and leaned on top of the counter.

“With everything she’s been through, some days are better than others,” the witch sighed. “She had therapy this morning, so maybe that caused it, or it could have been a nightmare or none of the above. We may never know.”

“Can I-can I go see her?” Kamala asked. Wanda smiled.

“Of course. Bring her this,” she pointed to the board. “She hadn’t eaten, but don’t be upset if she didn’t want to see you.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The world seemed to be covered in a foggy haze. Everything seemed to move slower. Your body felt heavy, and it took so much energy to go to the bathroom. You barely heard the knock on your door. “Hey, sweetheart,” it was Kamala. “Can I come in?” You rolled to your side to face the door. You hated that she was going to see you like this. You missed her and you hated yourself that you missed your date.

“Yeah,” you whispered. The door opened, and Kamala came in holding a plate of snacks and glass filled with juice.

“Hi,” she smiled and closed the door. Wanda made you a little snack platter because she said you hadn’t eaten.” Kamala placed the food on the side table. Something inside you snapped. You felt it all day, and you tried to keep it buried inside. Seeing Kamala being so nice after you ignored her all day broke it. Everything came bubbling over. A broken sob escaped your lips. “Hey, hey, why are you crying?”

“I don’t know,” you cried. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay. Can I hug you? Do you need a hug?” You sat up in bed and cried harder.

“I don’t know,” you repeated. You wanted to fall into her arms and be safe, but the idea of her touching you sent shivers down your spine. Why was everything so complicated? Why were you so broken? You began to scratch at your wrists.

“I need you to stop doing that,” you heard Kamala say, but you couldn’t stop. You needed to feel anything besides this suffocating weight. Suddenly, Kamala’s hands grabbed yours, and you fought against her. “I know, I know,” Kamala cooed, pulling you against her chest. Her arms held you tightly down. “It’s okay. You’re safe. You’re safe.” Soft humming filled your ears. Your body slumped against hers, and you cried on her chest.

When your sobs quieted down, you pulled away from her. Your head was pounding, and you felt gross. “Hi, khobsurat (beautiful),” you rolled your eyes.

“I doubt I look beautiful,” Kamala shook her head.

“You will always be beautiful to me,” she could make you flustered. “Do you wanna talk about anything?” She kept her hands on her lap but was itching to hold you. Her fingers were twitching. Sighing, you held out your hand for her to take.

“I didn’t want you to see me like this,” you admitted.

“Like what?” she questioned. It was hard to describe this state you sometimes found yourself in. Sometimes, it felt like you were in a pile of quicksand, and no matter how hard you fought, you kept sinking. “This is a bad day for you. That’s what your mother called it.” You nodded.

“They don’t come often, but when they do, they can be depleting,” you explained. “I wanted to hang out with you today but couldn’t leave my bed. So I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” she said. “I was worried that you went radio silent, so a text would be nice,” you nodded. You could do that even though you had no idea where your phone was. “But I want to be there when it gets bad. I want to see the good, the bad, and the ugly.”

“Even when I miss dates and can’t leave my room.”

“Yes,” she answered without hesitation. “We can just sit here and watch movies as long as I’m with you. I’m happy.” She kissed the back of your hand.

“Thank you,” you smiled. It was nice having someone so patient. If you are interested, there is a new movie I want to watch.” You moved against your headboard with your arms. Immediately, Kamala moved into your arms. She sat between your legs with her back against your front. “Thank you,” you said again. It was starting to not feel like enough. Hopefully, one day, you would find more than those two words.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Something changed. You weren’t sure when it happened. You were looking at Kamala’s lips and wondering what they would feel like on yours. She has kissed you on your cheek, the back of your hand, or the top of your head. You were okay with that, but you wanted to kiss her properly. Could you do that? The last time you felt someone’s lips on yours was Dmitri. “Is that math problem that difficult?” Natasha asked. You were doing homework in her office while she was working on a few mission reports. You chuckled and closed the textbook.

“Can I ask you something?” You asked, twirling the pencil in our hand. The Black Widow nodded and moved to sit on the couch next to you.

“Ask away,” she smiled. Was it an appropriate question to ask your mom? You weren’t sure, but the relationship with your mom wasn’t normal. You continued to twirl the pencil.

“Is it weird that I want to kiss Kamala?” You asked. “Do you think it’s too soon?” You added on. You wished you had captured the look on Natasha’s face - eyes wide and shocked. But she recovered quickly. A part of you wondered if she wanted Wanda to be here for this conversation. Natasha sighed.

“I can’t tell you if it’s too soon or not. That is for you to decide,” you groaned and let your head fall back. The Black Widow laughed and pulled you back into a sitting position. “When it comes to kissing and sex, we both have a complicated relationship with it.” You frowned. Slowly, it dawned on you what she meant.

“How did you learn how to trust someone with your body like that again?” You asked. Natasha grabbed your hand and placed them on the back of the couch.

“A lot of unhealthy coping mechanisms,” the Black Widow teased. You rolled your eyes, but your frown remained on your face. “I slept around hoping it would be different, but never until I started seeing Wanda.”

“How?”

“I finally felt safe with her. She made me feel seen. So,” she cringed slightly. “If you feel those things with Kamala, then maybe it’s the right time to open yourself up to that again,” Natasha pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “Don’t force it, though, Firefly. You and her have all the time in the world.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

You were trying to pay attention to the story Kamala was telling. You were lying on the tower’s roof - the night sky was blanketed with stars. It was your turn to plan a date, so you decided to picnic atop the tower. It was peaceful. It felt like you and her were the only people in the city. “Why do I feel like you aren’t listening?” Kamala teased.

“Sorry,” you whispered. “I got stuck in my head.” The girl frowned. “I’m okay,” you promised and sat up to reach for your phone. Opening up Spotify, you began to play music. “Do you want to dance with me?” You asked.

“Yeah, sure, I can dance,” you giggled at her nervous rambling. You both stood up; her arms went around your waist, and you put your arms around her neck. It wasn’t really dancing; it was more like swaying side to side to the music. “I had a good time,” she broke the silence.

“Good. So did I,” you glanced at her lips but looked away. Carefully, she spun you in a circle and brought you back into her arms.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You titled her head. “Where was your head when I was telling you an amazing story?” You chuckled.

“You,” you paused. “You make me feel like my troubled heart is a million miles away. You make me feel like I’m drunk on stars and dancing out into space,” you let out a shaky breath. “When I get lost, I know your arms will be reaching out towards me.” Gently, Kamala cupped your face and forced you to look up at her. “This may go wrong,” your voice shook as your nerves got the best of you. “But can I kiss you?”

“Yes,” Kamala sighed. Time seemed to slow down as you inched closer. You could feel the warmth of her breath, and you fought your mind to stay in the present. You tried to push away the darkness that threatened to overtake it.

“Khobsurat,” she whispered, her voice pushing away the darkness. Your heart pounded in your chest, and a soft flutter stirred in your stomach - a mix of nerves and wonder. Then it happened. Her lips touched yours, gentle and tentative. It was soft, warm, and sweet, sending a cascade of warmth down your spine.

For a second, you forgot to breathe. Everything else vanished - no more nerves, no more doubt. Kamala pulled away and rested her forehead against yours.

“Thank you,” you were surprised by that. “Thank you for trusting me with this.”

“You’ve earned my trust,” you whispered. “You’ve been so patient with me. I-” you couldn’t say it yet. The words felt trapped in your throat. But Kamala nodded.

“Can I kiss you again?”

“Yes,” you smiled. This time, her kiss was more aggressive. She felt more confident in her movements. Her touch was soft against your skin. Natasha was right. This felt different. It felt full of warmth. It felt like love.

[flamingpudding]

Part 13 of Ghost Kid in Gotham

>>Masterpost >>AO3

<<1 Previous Next

A/N: I got a bit too self conscious in regards to why Danny is the older twin in this story. I know it would be nice and cute for him to be the younger but when I started to work on this idea, I always saw him as the elder twin. It just kept bothering me that some wished differently and made me feel like I needed to explain my thoughts. Besides when I first thought of Danny as an assassin that couldn't kill, I also thought of Odasaku from BSD and the image just fit in my head, including the older brother energy and getting pushed over the edge when losing loved ones.

Interlude: A Brothers Protection

When they had been four Danny had quickly learned what it had meant to be an heir. Their grandfather had showered him and Dami in love and praise at first. Happy about having two heirs that would lead the league to glory. Even if only one heir was needed, having two was a blessing in his grandfather's eyes. His mother always spoke proudly of them, of how they were meant for something great. Then their training had started, and words of love and praise became criticism and pressure.

From the outside there was no difference in the pressure put on the twins. Their teachers and handlers treated them equally when they had lessons together. Both were heirs, but Danny was the primary one. So when they were separated for their training Danny knew their teachers were making differences influenced by that. At the age of five he started to egg them on, challenging them, making them more aware of him, to take the pressure off his brother. He didn't mind, because no matter how harsh they were with him, he still got to late night stargaze while cuddling his twin. Damian would indulge Danny's need to rest on him thinking Danny's stamina was not the same as his own but still pushed him away at times if he hindered his twin from drawing.

He had read about how elder brothers were supposed to protect the younger ones. When he learned about that concept he had gone to their mother asking, who was the elder and his mother had told him that he was born before his twin, which was why he was the primary heir. Yet all he cared about was that the elder twin had a responsibility towards the younger. Though even if he had been the younger one, Danny would still have found an excuse to protect Damian, this just made it easier for him to rationalize protecting his twin from the true harshness of their training.

With their growing skills, soon came the time for them to be sent on their first mission. An easy one. They were to eliminate a traitor. Someone that had joined the league for only a couple of months before deciding to quit, taking secrets with them that they weren't supposed to know.

Grandfather never liked loose ends. So they were sent out, with clear instructions. Grandfather had instructed Danny to be the one to deal the killing blow. Danny was supposed to prove his worth, for the first time their grandfather was acknowledging him as the elder twin. Words of promise were spoken to him during the briefing and when he had asked about Damian, grandfather had told him that his brother would prove his right during their next mission. For now Damian was to follow up and eliminate any third party that would prove to be a risk to the mission.

That mission was the first of many of Danny's failures.

He had critically injured the traitor but hesitated too long in dealing the killing blow. Their observer for the mission stepped in. Killing the target with a disapproving stare that made Danny wither and seek his brothers closeness. Grandfather had lectured him afterwards furious of how he as the primary heir could fail at something so simple when he had the target before him on a silver platter. A silver platter he had created with his own hands.

The image of his wheezing target, with glassy eyes, begging with fear and pleading for their life flashed before his eyes. Even without a killing blow, Danny knew he had injured them enough that they wouldn't have survived anyway if no help arrived within 15 minutes. But that was not up to league standards. Even if slim, do not leave your enemies with the slightest change of survival, his grandfather's words ringed in his ears.

They started to separate Damian from him more often then, sending Danny off to more harsh training that he had no problem completing. He had the skill but still, from there on he continued to mess up his mission in similar ways. Yet Damian was covering for Danny whenever they were sent on mission together. Danny incapacitated the target soundlessly and Dami killed them.

In a way Danny found another form of how to protect Damian like this. He couldn't kill but Damian would gain their grandfather's praise by covering for him. Danny in return would earn the punishments for failure, the lecturers and their teachers' harshness. Their displeasure would focus on him during lessons leaving his twin to learn their lessons in peace without them constantly shouting at him what to do better. Because that was directed at him, the failure they needed to correct.

Yet his twin insisted that they were meant to complete each other. Danny had the talent in incapacitating anyone no matter their size and impromptu thinking and a heart of mercy while Damian had the calculating and strategic handling with a heart steeled to kill. They were each other's missing half's his twin had told him. They were meant to work together this way, to balance each other out.

Danny loved Dami for that even more but he knew better.

When they were six Danny lost his title as heir. His grandfather had declared that Damian was the one true heir, the one meant to lead them in the future. He didn't mind that, he had expected that the moment he was unable to kill the first time. Besides even if he had the harsher lessons, Damian was still better skillswise, he truly was the better between them. His twin was of a different opinion, in the privacy of their rooms his twin kept insisting that Danny could prove their grandfather wrong. That they were meant to lead together and not alone but Danny knew better.

With the loss of his title, the scorn and mockery began from other league members more openly. The focus of his mother and grandfather turned to Damian and so did their love. Still Danny continued like before, challenging teachers and other members, drawing the focus on him despite having become the black sheep. His skills were still on par with his brother's, even if he couldn't kill and he made sure their teachers were aware. His mother was giving him knowing looks whenever she had to pull him off teachers sometimes several times a day. She knew why he continued doing that.

His twin also still adored him in a way that made Danny think that Damian might know about the way he attempted to protect the other even without the title of heir. As if Damian knew that whenever Danny learned that a teacher had been harsher on Damian than needed that Danny was the one injuring said teacher in his own lessons. That Damian knew that the exhaustion he displayed at night when they sat on the roofs to watch the stars over Nanda Parbat while Dami drew into drawing pads, was not because of a lack of stamina but the work he put into honing his skill so that they focused on the back sheep of the family and focused their scorn, jealousy and envy on him instead of Dami.

He was eight when he realized he had screwed up to much. His grandfather's words from long ago rang in his ears as he stood before his twin with drawn blades and the eyes of nearly every league member watching them, awaiting his inevitable death. This was his last act to protect his twin and fulfill the role of elder brother in the way he had read about when he had been even younger. Dami would live and that was all that had mattered to Danny.

"Is there a reason why you bring these memories to the surface, Nocturn?" A sixteen year old Danny asked frowning, watching his own memories like he was a bystander. His surroundings changed once more. Gone were the images of the memory of the last time he had protected his twin as a wide and empty space surrounded him. In the distance stars glinted, reminding him of the night sky of Nanda Parbat. An answer never came. It wouldn't matter either way. Because by the time he woke up he would have forgotten again anyway.

"If you won't answer, could you at least ask Clockwork what he was thinking by doing this?" He asked into the nothingness. Still not receiving an answer. With a sigh Danny plopped onto the ground, eyeing his surroundings as his earliest memory of Damian's and his first lesson in parkour started to form around him, coaxing a small smile from him.

Blinking into awareness Danny yawned before rolling onto his back, his eyes briefly flashed green before settling into blue. His head lay in his twin's lap as this older Dami was drawing something on a drawing pad. His head felt clearer these days but not by much. There was also the feeling like he remembered more stuff in his sleep yet whenever he woke up he felt like something was missing. There was always a headache pounding in his head making him dizzy when he tried outside of sleep. His eyes watched this older version of his twin and an image of the Dami drawing while they sat on roofs overlayed the one he was watching right there.

He chirped happily. There were still so many questions in his mind but the answers didn't matter to him anymore. Dami was alive and doing what he loved openly. Whatever happened in between his last fuzzy memory and now didn't matter. Because Danny was sure, he must have done something right in protecting Dami as the elder twin for this to be the result. Yawning, curled up more pressing his face into his twins stomach, to silence the noise in his head. His mind started to feel muddy again as he snuggled into this older and alive version of his twin brother. The extra set of instincts still screamed at him.

Blobbert and the other blob ghosts were trying to help him with that but the struggle was still there.

A small hiss escaped him as he turned his head, eyes zeroed in on the eldest that kept trying to pet him or give him sweets as bribery halted his approach. His nose scrunched up as he bared his teeth and the briber coed at him. Danny protested and he could hear his twin scowling as suddenly his senses were thrown for a ride. Danny's eyes focused on the icky one as he entered his field of vision.

The icky one was feeling more icky than before. Like the first time he had met him. Danny hissed in displeasure feeling something strange but familiar run through him. With his instincts screaming he sat up quickly before his brother could stop him and lunged as he let something else in him take over, not knowing that his eyes were glowing green.

[leaderwon]

CHAPTER 22 — WHAT I NEVER SAID.

wc — 1k+

prev — masterlist — next

Jay had always thought he was good at pretending.

Pretending he didn’t notice the way you smiled differently when you were around certain people. Pretending he didn’t hear the subtle shift in your voice when Jake made you laugh. Pretending it didn’t sting when you started drifting, just a little, barely noticeable — to places he couldn’t quite reach anymore.

He’d always assumed he’d have time. That whatever he felt for you would eventually find its moment. It wasn’t like he hadn’t thought about it — he had. More than he cared to admit. But you were his best friend, and he’d been so convinced you’d always be there, orbiting close enough for him to reach out whenever he was ready.

Except now, things were shifting. He could feel it.

The change hadn’t been loud. It was quiet, creeping. The kind of change that settled in your bones before your mind even registered it. It was in the way your eyes lingered on Jake for a second too long. In the way you smiled softly at nothing when you thought no one was looking. In the way Jake looked at you like he already knew a secret Jay had never been let in on.

Jay wasn’t stupid. He’d been watching.

And lately, what he’d seen made something cold coil in his chest.

It wasn’t the first time Jake and you had shared moments — he’d always chalked it up to friendship, the kind that came easy and unspoken. But now? There was a shift. A hesitation in your voice. A tension in Jake’s posture. A layer of closeness that hadn’t been there before.

Jay caught it in glimpses. A glance exchanged too quickly. A flicker of something behind your eyes. And the worst part? You were trying to hide it. Both of you.

He noticed the way Jake avoided sitting next to you during lunch. How he laughed a little louder than necessary when you were nearby, like trying to draw attention away from the tension between you. And you — you wouldn’t meet Jay’s gaze for more than a second. Not like you used to.

It was driving him insane.

He tried to tell himself he was overthinking it. That maybe nothing had changed, and it was just his head playing cruel tricks. But then he remembered the way Jake had touched your arm yesterday. Barely a second, just a light brush as you passed each other in the hallway. It was a nothing gesture, really. Except Jay saw the way you smiled afterward, small and involuntary.

And that was when it hit him in full.

He was jealous.

Not just irritated or confused — he was completely, bone deep jealous. The kind that crawled under your skin and made everything feel too sharp. And the worst part was that he had no one to blame but himself. Because he’d had time. He’d had every opportunity to say something, to reach for you, to tell you he didn’t just see you as a friend.

But he’d stayed silent.

And Jake, in all his easy warmth and soft charm, had stepped into the space Jay had left wide open.

Jay hated how much sense it made.

You and Jake had always clicked. People noticed it. And now, Jay was starting to think maybe you had too.

He remembered the day he first realized he liked you—really, truly liked you. It wasn’t some grand moment. Just an afternoon, you sitting on his bed with your legs crossed, ranting about a book you hated and gesturing wildly with your hands. You were wearing mismatched socks and had chocolate on your chin from a snack he’d handed you ten minutes earlier. And somehow, in that chaos, Jay had looked at you and thought, God, I’m screwed.

But he’d buried it. Buried it so deep it barely surfaced, except in quiet moments when you laughed too hard or leaned your head on his shoulder during movie nights. He’d told himself it wasn’t the right time. That maybe one day, when things settled, he’d tell you. Maybe you already knew. Maybe you were just waiting for him to figure it out.

But now he wasn’t so sure.

Now, watching you disappear around the corner with Jake earlier, your fingers brushing, eyes flicking away like guilty kids—Jay realized he might have waited too long.

And it burned.

The idea that Jake could be the one you chose. That he could be the one you shared all those quiet little moments with. That he could be the one you kissed in hidden corners while Jay sat on the sidelines pretending everything was fine.

He clenched his jaw and tried to focus on anything else—his notebook, the sounds of the classroom, the scratch of pen against paper. But it was impossible. The image of you kissing Jake wouldn’t leave his mind, no matter how hard he tried to push it out. He didn’t know for sure that it had happened, but he could feel it.

Something had changed between you. And Jay was tired of pretending not to see it.

By the end of the day, he found himself lingering behind in the hallway, standing by his locker longer than necessary, trying to shake the restless energy under his skin. He saw you down the hall, walking with Lia, laughing about something he couldn’t hear. Jake wasn’t far behind.

Jay’s stomach twisted.

He wasn’t the type to act on impulse. He’d always been careful, controlled. But this was different. This was slipping through his fingers faster than he could hold onto it.

He didn’t have a plan. He didn’t even know what he was going to say. But he knew one thing for certain—he couldn’t keep watching from the sidelines anymore. He wouldn’t.

If Jake was going to step up, then Jay was done standing down.

It was time to stop hiding behind the comfort of friendship. Time to stop pretending he didn’t want more.

Even if it was already too late.

Even if it broke everything.

Jay would rather crash and burn than keep wondering what could’ve been.

And maybe, just maybe — there was still time to change the ending.

© @leaderwon 2025. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

[royal-chandler]

got the flu, wrote a little firstprince+family friday ficlet ✨ 💫 ✨

--

“Daddy!” Bianca shouts after scrambling out the backseat of Alex’s car and that’s when Henry truly feels back at home. His lovely daughter streaks up their driveway to meet him where he's sat at the front steps.

Henry welcomes the collision when she bodily runs into him, bony knees in his front and the crooks of her elbows around his neck as he scoops her up. Into her afternoon-warmed hair, he fiercely tucks, “I missed you terribly.”

“I missed you, too,” Bianca returns, as though she’s sharing a special secret, tender and thoughtful. She hugs him tighter and kisses his cheek.

Mouth mostly stuffed with his heart, Henry whispers, “Thank you, darling.”

After another moment, Bianca peels away to ask, “What was London like?”

“Exceptionally grey. And very wet. It poured the entire time. I’ve got a suitcase full of soggy socks to show for it.”

“Yuck.”

“Indeed but those soggy socks took me to many shops. Where I may have picked up a few gifts for you and your brother.”

“Ooh,” Bianca sing-songs on a scheming slide, fingers steepled and giddily tapping together like the cutest cartoon villain there ever was. 

Henry gives her a smile back. “Would you look at that? You did your nails! They look gorgeous!”

“Thanks!” She showcases them proudly, neon colours fanned out and prancing again. “I did my left hand but Papi did my right for me since it gets messy when I do it.”

“You both did really well, wonderful jobs.”

In agreement, Bianca nods. “Papi said you couldn’t come back to them looking like monsters or he’d be in big trouble.”

Henry chuckles, reaching out to curl loose strands back behind her ear. He hums and replies, “Well, it’s the weekend. I would have gone easy on him.”

“Yeah right,” Alex says with a smirk, joining them. Bianca’s sequin bookbag hangs from one hand and the other is spread across the back of a napping Arturo, whose peaceful face is wrinkled into Alex’s shoulder. It’s a sight for sore eyes. Alex makes a show of unburdening himself of Bianca’s bag, commenting on how heavy it is. When she takes it from him with no trouble, he wonderfully compliments Bianca on her strength and makes her beam—effectively turning Henry into goo. “You wanna take it inside and then we can get going, mija?”

“We have to go to the grocery store,” Bianca says, breaking the news to Henry. Over-the-top, she despairs to Alex, “We always have to go to the grocery store.”

“We always eat,” Alex counters. “I think you’d be pretty upset if there wasn’t any food in the house. I mean, what’s a Friday night without mango ice-cream?”

“Uh oh. I’m not built for that.” Hurriedly, she smacks a kiss to Henry’s cheek again. And then she’s off, tossing back, “Gotta go, Daddy! Love you!”

“She’s not built for that?” Henry echoes. 

“New lingo sweeping through Hickory Elementary like the flu after a kid licks a doorknob.”

“That is not an actual thing, Alex.”

“I saw it!”

Henry rolls his eyes. 

“Her need for new shoes is becoming more apparent, Alex. Maybe we should stop by the mall as well.”

“Hah, good luck getting rid of them.”

“A hole is starting to tear through the front.”

“They’re her favorite pair. And most importantly, the toes stop the swings at recess the best,” Alex recites, clearly having heard the argument plenty. 

So has Henry. 

“I do not have the energy for that battle,” he sighs before standing. He collects Arturo from Alex gently, careful not to wake him. Pressing a soft hello to his son's forehead, he murmurs, “Hey, sweet kit."

"He's going to be so excited when he wakes up and sees you."

"I can't wait."

Alex's roving gaze is considerate, loving. "How was it?"

"It's to the point—," Henry continues after an inelegant swallow, a hot threat around the edge of his eyes, "the next visit will have to be all of us."

An apologetic noise leaves Alex and he draws Henry in close and holds him. His scent is familiar and comforting, makes breathing easier. Lips lingering against Henry's skin, Alex asks, "Do you wanna talk about it?"

"Yes," Henry admits, "but tomorrow. Just need this for now."

--

thanks for taking the time to read! 🤍

[noctiva]

Can we know anything more about ur oc Zöe? I love an oc sm and realised there’s not much about her up xx

asking about my oc????? we might as well just start making out now LMFAO OKAY! You wanna hear about her? I’ll tell you EVERYTHINGGGGG this post is about to be so long

here’s a couple new drawings I made of her recently <3 she is my little sweetheart

I say, and yet her story is a harsh case of “creator uses their character as a punching bag” oops. i love her I do I swear

I’ve been meaning to write like,,, an actual full on story for her I just haven’t gotten around to it because I know it’ll be a beast but one day it will happen

for now, I will give you a rough and unpolished version of it along with some character relationship sheets

Okay! Let’s go over her story! CW for: abusive relationships, mentions of physical abuse, minor descriptions of gore

also, it’s long lol. I got carried away.

If you don’t wanna scour through the whole thing, here’s the cliff notes version:

Sheltered, naive girl goes to uni out of state to escape her overbearing parents

Meets and quickly falls in love with horrible frat dude

He sucks so bad. Makes her life hell

She snaps one day and kills him with a pair of scissors from her sewing kit

Scared of what’ll happen to her bc he had a great social rep, so she flees

Into the slender woods baby!!!

Cue - the worst camping trip ever

Gets attacked by a bear, a wolf, and steps on a bear trap that will eventually take her leg from her

Hoodie shoots her in the hip while she’s down lol

Toby gives her a good ol’ hatchet to the back

But then ultimately decides that her perseverance is pretty admirable, so decides to keep her alive

Brian’s peeved about this

Back at slender manor or whatever, Zoe gets passed over to Jack bc she is quite literally about to go into septic shock

Amputation time

Wakes up with weird prosthetic Jack made out of scrap metal and leather he found

Also is mysteriously now branded with a proxy symbol on her shoulder. How’d that happen I wonder!!

New life unlocked through the worst set of trials ever lmfao

-

At the beginning of her story Zoe is a 20 year old, burnt out honours kid, living life to the “fullest” once she finally moves to a university out of state and away from her overbearing parents. She was smart as a kid, particularly proficient in maths and science, and her parents took note of that and abused that fact to the fullest. Sheltered beyond all belief, always had to come home straight after school to keep studying - even all throughout her high school years. So naturally, she takes advantage of the numerous scholarships she’s offered, and picks the one as FAR AWAY from her hometown as possible. She’s originally from Toronto, Canada - she moves to Boulder, Colorado.

And the freedom hits her like a TRUCK. So out of her element she barely even knows what to do with herself - late nights she never had, places she’s never seen, experiences she only ever dreamed of or saw in movies. She’s naive, and overwhelmed and also - easily taken advantage of.

Her soon to be boyfriend Noah, notices that. Notices how her eyes go wide and dreamy whenever she goes to a party, or waits in line at a bar with a fake ID. In his eyes, she’s stupid - easy. To him, he’s her dream man. He schmoozes her up, lays the charm on thick, and for a girl who’s never even held hands with a man, it’s so easy it almost makes him laugh. She’s falling head over heels for him in seconds, just because he helped her pick up her books when she dropped them after a lecture.

Noah’s the perfect man, in Zoe’s eyes. He’s the son of one of the professors, the head of one of the biggest frats on campus, smart, funny, charming. Deceptive.

They start dating, of course, and it’s great at first! It’s everything to Zoe. This new, exciting life, filled with social gatherings, freedom, and a boyfriend who loves her so much. She gives everything to him, because she doesn’t know any better, and he takes it all greedily - like taking candy from a baby.

Her second year they move in together, in a shitty little apartment off campus. It’s a bit quick, she’s barely known him for a year, and yet it feels right to her. He loves her, and she loves him, so living together is just the next step, right? Then marriage, then kids, just like her parents had done it.

But that, is where it alllllllll goes downhill.

Noah’s intentions had been malicious from the start. He didn’t pursue Zoe because he actually liked her - he just thought she was cute and easy. Someone he could bat around and she’d keep crawling back because he was all she really had. It starts off slow - isolating her from any friends that weren’t his own, shaming her for wanting to go out of the house without him, making passive aggressive comments about her clothes and her makeup. Slowly reeling in the leash more and more until he finally got physical. When he hit her for the first time, she just stood in a frozen, wide-eyed stupor.

Living with him, she’s stuck with him for most hours of the day - that is if he wasn’t out with his friends getting drunk. She wouldn’t even risk leaving during these times, for the fear that he’d come home and find her missing.

This goes on for months and months, slowly breaking her down more and more, until she barely even goes to class anymore. She loses her scholarship, drops out, and spends most of her days either sewing and crocheting (she loves fashion <3) or getting an undeserving earful from Noah’s disrespectful ass.

One day, she just kind of snaps. If you ask her about it, she doesn’t remember what even happened. All she could recall was Noah coming home drunk and making a beeline towards where she sat on the couch sewing patches onto her jeans. Then, he was bleeding out of the floor beneath her, with a pair of scissors sticking out of his right eye.

Panic set in quick, and the sight immediately makes her wretch. He was alive, but barely. Lacerations cutting deep into his neck, and his eye… well we already covered that.

From there, she moves on autopilot.

Noah was known. His death would be found out about quickly, and she had a sinking feeling that people would be much more inclined to believe that she was wholly in the wrong. Noah’s reputation was spotless, she was just some no name from out of the country.

So, she moves fast. Wrenching her scissors from his eye to try and lessen evidence against her. Bolts out of her apartment, down the steps, and onto the street with so much adrenaline pumping through her veins that it makes her feel dizzy.

She needed to hide. Where? She didn’t know. But she definitely couldn’t show her face around here anymore. In a panic, she makes a beeline for the wooded area around her apartment complex in the dead of night.

This is where shit just goes from bad, to worse, to HORRIBLE for Zoe.

The plan is to camp out in the woods for a couple days until she could figure out a plan. Maybe find a way to hitchhike across the border and go back home. Grovel on her parents doorstep and beg them to hide her from it all.

That does…. Not work.

The forest is dense and unforgiving, littered with animals and… other creatures that all hope for her demise.

On night one she startles a lone wolf and just barely evades a full blown attack. She doesn’t leave unscathed, a couple scratches to the face leave her right eye wounded and blind - like some sort of sick karma for what she did to Noah (an eye for an eye ehehehe). She only gets away because she socks it right in the snout and disorients it.

Then, the bear. (Girl cannot catch a break i stg). Spotted her when she was washing dried blood from her hands and face, giving up on fishing in the stream for the much heartier prey on the river bank. This nearly kills her fr. Dehydrated, exhausted, and mentally overwhelmed, she is not in the position to be fighting a BEAR of all fucking things. Rips into her stomach with its claws, and she scrambles away from sheer willpower alone - hacking rocks at its face to try and slow it down before she’s hauling her battered body up into a tree. She is LUCKY that brown bear was older, bc if it was in its prime it woulda followed her right up and ripped her to pieces. Instead, it just decides to give up onthis far too difficult prey - back to the river for fish.

So, one night in the forest and Zoe is

Partially blind

Wounded in multiple places

Near hysterical

She finally ends up finding refuge in an abandoned animal’s den - aware that the owner could come back any time, but at this point she honestly couldn’t give less of a shit. Her adrenaline was wearing out and she was in painnnnnn dude. Physically and emotionally. She sleeps for maybe one hour total.

The next morning, things do not get easier of course- because why would they????

She very warily makes her way back to the river and washes her wounds. Manages to spear a fish and eats it raw. Barely satiated at all but it’s something, and at this point she has no choice - because she got herself lost. In the panic of it all, of course she wasn’t keeping track of where she had been and where she had come in from. So now, she’s just got to make do.

On the way back to her little den she steps on a bear trap lmao. Coulda used THAT yesterday. It bites into her ankle and latches on tight, and for a solid 40 minutes she does nothing but sit on the ground in a heap and sob because holy fuck dude what did she DO in her past life to deserve any of this??? It’s just one blow after another. Obviously, she can’t get it off so instead she hauls herself back to her hideout - dragging her limp foot behind her and leaving a trail of blood in her wake.

Then, she sits. For two solid days that’s all she does. Fading in and out of consciousness, watching her ankle go red, then purple, then sickly shades of green and blue. Watches how it begins spreading up her leg - until her entire calf was swollen and her wound was leaking pus.

She is literally on her last leg, mere hours away from giving up, but the past two days gave her time to think, and she realized something. She was fucking angry. Angry at Noah, at this stupid forest, at her luck, at the entire world. Giving up felt like she was submitting to whatever evil force was toying with her. So, with her last bits of strength - she pries the bear trap off and claws her way back to the river.

Can’t catch a fish this time, but she finds a few ripped up carcasses from the bears around so she eats those - along with some questionable looking berries. It’s just enough to keep her going. Just enough to give her the energy to haul her body up once more - her left leg practically just dead weight now - growing more and more worrying by the minute. She’s also starting to feel feverish now, and her lungs feel tight every time she takes a breath in. The already disorienting forest seems like even more of a nightmare now and then-

A gunshot.

She’s hit in the hip when she stands up - the bullet casing lodging itself deep in her skin. Shocking her so badly that she stumbles back and lands flat on her ass. The pain from this wound barely even registers because she’s been near delirious from pain for the past three days straight. Instead she just barks out a weak and exasperated, “Realy??” At her attacker, at god, she doesn’t even know. Probably both. But one of them is a much more real threat than the other.

It’s Hoodie, of course, because guess what??? These are the Slender woods baby!!! (Zoe im so sorry) He fires at her again, and she just barely avoids it, again, and its grazing her already wounded leg. She is full on dragging her body away from the scene, but her attacker seems to be enjoying it - how weak she is, treating it all like a game.

A game that she had a sliver of hope that she might just win - because she got through everything else right??

She doesn’t even see Toby walking up behind her until she gets a hatchet in the back.

That’s the final straw. She crumples, crying out like a kicked puppy as she falls to the ground - her body limp and heavy as her face smushes into the dirt. And she’s expecting another blow, another gunshot, another anything; but it never comes. Instead, she gets a voice.

“J-Jesus Christ, you’re a fuh-fuckin’ mess.” It’s followed by a cruel snicker, but the words themselves sound flabbergasted. “Look at that l-leg… I know Hoodie ain’t do that, th-that’s a few days of rot there.”

“Bear trap.” She mutters weakly, too out of it to even bother trying to run. To even question who she was speaking to. To even lift her head to look at him. “Two days ago.”

“T-Two days?” Sounding even more shocked than last time. “You’ve been here for t-two days?”

“Toby, the hell are you doin’? Kill her already.” A different voice, deeper, riddled with a southern twang. Must’ve been the gunman.

“L-Look at her, Bri. Shit’s definitely septic, it’s c-crazy she’s still kicking.”

“And? Just makes it easier for us. Kill her, and chuck her ass in the river.”

“Do you n-not find it interesting? She’s been here for two whole days with a l-leg like that. That’s some c-crazy willpow-“

“Oh, shut up. The bitch is probably lying.” She hears a gun click. Doesn’t even flinch. She could feel the life leeching from her with every drop of her blood that seeped into the soil. “If you can’t do it, then I will.”

Okay im getting tired let me try and finish this - Toby and Brian bicker for like fifteen minutes while Zoe clings to life. Brian is on the side that she’s a trespasser and needs to die, Toby convinced that there’s something to be said about Zoe’s perseverance (something that could be utilized as a proxyyyyy). In the end, Toby wins, only because Brian says that he’ll have to take all the blame if shit goes sour.

SO! Brian walks off, and now Toby’s left with this dying girl - watching the life drain from her eyes as the infection in her leg just grows worse and worse. So what does he do? Well, the only thing he can think to! It’s just going to keep spreading, and it’s probably already a lost cause, so he might as well save Jack some work. He flips her onto her back, and Zoe watches with hazy eyes as he raises one of his hatchets - convinced that it’s the last sight she’s going to see before she dies. It’s not, because the hatchet doesn’t land anywhere fatal, it just lobs her leg off lmfao. She doesn’t even have the energy to scream, and to be honest she doesn’t have time to. This pooor battered girl, she barely even has time to register what happened before she’s passing the FUCK out (well deserved honestly. Girl deserves some rest)

So Toby shrugs off his jacket and wraps (what’s left of) her leg up, trying to stop the bleeding before he picks her up and hauls her over his shoulder, trekking back to the manor.

At the manor, she’s taken straight to Jack. Who, understandably, is like ‘what the fuck did you just bring me.’ Because she’s got multiple unhealed wounds, has been SHOT, STABBED, and is MISSING A LEG lmfao. Not to mention he doesn’t even fucking know this girl so why tf would he put the effort into what is looking to be a lost cause. Toby looks pretty committed to making sure she lives though, so (begrudgingly) he agrees to… take a look at her.

“Taking a look” turns into a six hour surgery. She was already septic when she was brought to him, so her body is quite literally on the brink of shutting down. Not to mention the blood loss, dehydration, and physical strain she went through. He somehow manages to keep her breathing, and if you ask him how he did it he’s gonna say that he doesn’t fucking know tbh lmao. The entirely of it all was practically a fever dream - from stitching her up, to stabilizing her vitals, to scavenging scrap to rig together a prosthetic for her. Al the end of it all she’s very crudely put together, but she’s breathing, so that’s all that mattered. Takes her awhile to wake up after it all, and Toby visits every now and then to see if his little… project proxy has come to yet. It takes a week, and honestly by the time she’s awake again she has drained Jack of basically his entire supply (if any other proxies get injured they’re fucked lol)

So when she’s finally conscious, and is questioning him about the strange mark now branded onto her shoulder, he tells her that it’s “payment for my efforts”.

So yeah. Now she’s a proxy. Barely. She’s still got to take time to heal and figure out how to walk on this absolutely egregious fake limb Jack made her - but she’s still alive, so she’s taking that for what it’s worth (despite the fact that she’s now surrounded my monsters day by day. oh well, not worse from how she was living before tbh)

-

OKAY THATS IT IM DONE!!!!! THATS ZOE!! I got lazy at the end but ok that is her thank you for giving a shit about my darling girl here’s some extra pics of her some of my lovelies drew:

tryna figure out how to spell gorgus <3 (also yes her weapon is scissors and they’re the same ones she killed noah with)

I’ll also add every other reference page on her I have so that everything can be in one nice tidy place:

ok that’s it jesus mf christ

[itsajollyjester]

yessss that defo answers my questions! ur thoughts on compassion & community intertwined w rebellion definitely show up in ur art lol. something more specific i have been curious abt is ur version of the endings of each specific hunger games & ur characterization/portrayal of the victors at those points! if u have any more thoughts abt any of those characters or their games id love to hear.... im also very not neurotypical abt hunger games

For sure!! But this is a novel and a half so I apologize in advance (also most of this is from memory so anyone can correct me if I'm getting any details wrong)

((TW: For visual depictions of Blood, Gore, and Wounds))

I realized I'd seen barely any art showing what the victors would have looked like when they won their games. They were all just kids and I feel like it can be easy to forget that sometimes

For all of them, I made the background one of their main "weapons" but tried to make it look like its turning back on them instead since there are no victors as Haymitch said.

I'll try to explain them all more in depth individually going in the order I drew them:

Finnick Odair, 65th Games:

His main weapons were his trident and nets that he made with vines. His background is one of the nets ready to trap him.

Finnick was the youngest victor ever at only 14. I really really wanted to emphasize just how little that is. (Especially since we know exactly why the Capitol loved him from the start…) Once I actually drew him looking that little I had to step away for a bit because I made myself too sad…

Outside of just how horrific his age is as a concept, I tried to think about what circumstances would lead to him actually winning when surrounded by older tributes. I think he would have had to avoid any kind of fight he didn't have the upper hand in. We know that he got the most expensive sponsor gifts in the history of the games (a trident), so he probably got plenty of sponsors outside of that as well. Because of that I doubt he needed to go looking for supplies much if ever so it was easy to avoid people there. He was also probably in a career pack, despite his age, due to his training and his popularity, and they would have hunted other tributes down together much like the one we saw in the first book (safer in numbers). Once it was narrowing down and the pack broke is when I think he started catching people in nets. All of that is a long winded way of saying that's why, unlike the other victors I drew, I only show him with minor cuts and bruises.

Originally I was going to draw him with a kind of strained smile like he was acting for an audience from the start. But I decided I actually think its sadder if he believed he was popular because of his skill and strategy as a fighter and only learned the whole truth after he won and that's when he started acting more for the camera. Instead I gave him a more muted despair kind of look, like his world is crashing down. One of my favorite parts about the movies, mainly THG and ABOSAS, is when they give the career tributes at the end a moment of realization about what they've done, and I wanted to give Finnick his. I'm a person that believes Finnick had to have volunteered for his games. I think he would have legitimately believed in the propaganda the career districts were fed and had a bit of a (very middle school boy) ego about his abilities. (I was NOT expecting to write so much about his lmao)

Enobaria, 62nd Games

She's most well known for ripping someones throat out with her teeth. (Her background is her sharpened teeth getting ready to eat her.) This is treated by The Capitol, and by Katniss, as grotesque and terrifying blood lust (Which obviously the Capitol loves her for). However, and I'm not at all the first to say it, that sounds more like a terrified and desperate attempt to survive a fight she was losing and an example of hysterical strength. We know that Career packs have had bloody betrayals in the past and I can see Enobaria being a part of one of them. Enobaria doesn't have a canonical age, but I decided to put her on the younger side (15 or 16.) I can imagine some of the older, bigger tributes deciding she was the weakest link towards the end and that was the result. I tried to make the blood around her mouth and down her shirt look more faded, like she tried desperately to wipe it off (Also I had to step away from drawing again after I drew her little tooth gap)

I think she probably leaned into the bloodthirsty image afterwards as a way to protect herself and (maybe even started to believe it too)

Annie Cresta, 70th Games

Annie's known for losing her mind after seeing her district partner decapitated in front of her. After that, she ran off and hid until the game makers started an earth quake, which made the large dam in the arena break and cause a huge flood. Annie was the only survivor because she was the strongest swimmer. So I decided to make her background dark water that's churning up and over her head. I also think it can work well as a way to show her mental state in the moment (and afterwards) Annie is actually one of my favorite characters in the series and I've been writing out a plan for a possible comic series about her that'll go more in depth about my headcanons for her. (when I say comic series, I mean sketches and oneshots, not a full thing lmao) It wouldn't take place during her games (outside of a few flashbacks when I need more context), instead it would start at her Victory Tour and go into her first (and last) year as a mentor for the 71st Games. Which is a perfect segue to-

Johanna Mason, 71st Games

Johanna is actually first mentioned early on in the first book when Katniss is wondering if the reason Peeta is crying is because he plans to act weak and helpless as a strategy in the games. (Katniss, he just found out he has to fight in a murder tournament with his crush. He's just Sad.) She bases her theory on Johanna, who pretended she was a "sniveling, cowardly fool" in the arena until the final stretch of the games when she proved to be deadly with an axe.

OR….. Katniss is an unreliable narrator and Johanna was actually a terrified kid from a district with so few victors that she was the only name in the bowl for the Quarter Quell… This is totally just a personal headcanon of mine tho lol. I think there would have been a point in her games where she realized she actually had a chance and that's when she seemingly had a huge character turn around. Maybe there was a infighting with the careers that ended in multiple deaths and there was only a few left along with any other tributes hiding away like her. Maybe she poked around what was left of their camp, found the axe, and felt strength from her district.

Her background was a little harder for me. Just slapping a big axe behind her felt cheesy. But them I remembered her saying there was no one left that she loved. So instead I put trees that could represent her loved ones (Two fully grown trees, a younger "teenage" tree, and a sapling) that are in the process of being cut down.

Haymitch Abernathy, 50th Games

Don't worry, I'm almost done. I don't have as much to say about Haymitch since we know SO much about what happened in his games. But his background was probably the hardest for me. His main weapon was invisible after all. I thought maybe the axe that was used, but again, That would look cheesy. I tried (and kinda failed imo) to draw the cliff side the force field was on instead. But the main thing I did was split the three panels I had on the previous drawings into six for two reasons. 1: Because he had to face twice as many tributes in order to win and 2: Being the only victor of a district that's tributes are seen as fodder for the blood bath means he had to meet and watch the death of twice as many kids every year.

[bullet-prooflove]

5000 Follower Celebration: Field of Daisies - Mitch Ripley x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @spaghettificationandpretzels @mini-bee-bee @mandy426 @jareaulamontagnes

Companion piece to:

Seperation!Series:

Marley 2.0 - Mitch doesn't realise your hiding a secret from him.

Not Your Problem - Mitch feels you pulling away from him.

Pill Popping - Mitch confronts LJ about what happened in St Clair.

Not Enough - Mitch realises he won't ever be enough for you after you reveal what happened in St Clair.

Therapy Sessions - Mitch talks through his issues with his counsellor.

Hollow - Mitch returns home to an empty house.

Swings - Mitch steps up when you recieve some life changing news.

Don't Hold Back - You struggle after spending the night with Mitch.

It’s two days later that Mitch turns up on your parent’s doorstep. You answer the door half asleep because you got off shift twelve hours ago and there’s a deep set exhaustion inside of you that has nothing to do with physicality and everything to do with the mess inside your head.

“Put on some sneakers.” He says, tucking his hands into the light blue windbreaker you’re wearing. “We’re going running.”

“You gave up the right to tell me what to do when you served me with separation paperwork.” You remind him, your temple coming to rest on the door and his jaw tenses as he looks down the street for a second.

“I deserved that.” He says before he tilts his head towards you. “But I’ve been where you are right now Marley and it’s a really dark fucking place. Trust me this helps.”

He doesn’t flinch when he meets your gaze and you sigh before you retreat into the house and step into your running shoes before snatching up your jacket, headphones and phone.

“Fine but I’m listening to my Yellowstone playlist.” You tell him as you place the earbuds in your ears.

“Sure.” He says as he takes out his own matching set.

It takes the two of you a second to sync your phones to the Bluetooth before Mitch takes off, leaving you to follow his lead. It’s a new route, one you don’t recognise until you end up running along the lake with Mitch by your side. He’s slowed his step to keep pace with you, his skin is flushed from the exertion and the cold as he draws to a halt underneath the railway bridge.

“I wanted to show you this.” He says as he gestures at the graffiti art sprayed onto the wall.

It’s a Brenda Barnum piece, a mural of white daisies painted onto the concrete amidst yellow and green hues and it makes something inside of you light up the way it always does when you see something of hers.

You’d always been a weird kid, perfect on the surface but with an oddness underneath. You didn’t like the same things as other kids, you liked quirky things, vivid colours and shit that challenged your thinking. There was always a battle to conform and you had because it made life easy but you never really felt like you fit. You’d lived with that feeling for years, thinking there was something wrong with you until you saw one of Brenda Barnum’s paintings and in that moment you realised that you didn’t have to hide yourself, you could be exactly who you wanted to be.

You’d told this to Mitch when you’d taken him to an exhibition in the early stages of the relationship, you’d explained how each painting made you feel like you’d been seen, like someone had taken the thoughts out of your head and committed them to canvas.

When he’d finished renovating the house, he’d put a framed museum print of ‘Purple Firecracker’ on the wall above your bed because he knew how much you loved the piece.

“I know you feel displaced right now.” He tells you as he leans back against the concrete pillar. “That you don’t know which way is up but I thought this could be your anchor point, a reminder of who you are underneath the rest of the shit that’s going on in your head.”

Your chest grows tight as you stare at the colours, the vividness, the complexity and in that moment everything just quietens.

“Thank you.” You say finally because you’ve been on the edge ever since you got your diagnosis and this is the first time you’ve actually allowed yourself to take a breath, to step back from the abyss that threatens to swallow you up.

“I mean it.” You say as you tilt your head towards him and his cheeks start to colour. “Thank you Mitch, for bringing me here, for reminding me I’m stronger than this.”

“You’re the toughest person I know Marley.” He tells you as he pushes off the pillar. “You just needed to find yourself again.”

“Yea.” You say, your gaze straying back to the artwork in front of you. “Yea I did.”

Love Mitch? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[starsoverbrooklyn]

just the headline, doll: "i've loved you longer than i should've." (#4/30) starring... Asshole/Toxic/Ex/HonestlyIDKwhat!Bucky Barnes x f!Reader storm ahead, sweetheart: *waves hand at the drabble* innn the general vicinity of angst. curse words. bucky being immature. a southernish accent instead of 1950s brooklyn?(shh..don't squint too hard at it) inked just for you: 754 a word from yours truly: man, to resist the urge to dive into history and then reminding yourself 'uh, ma'am...you're writing a drabble'. i think i'm getting the hang of getting where i want in a short amount of time (something i have always struggled with), but oooh, wrapping it up... different story. hope you enjoy! ♡⋆｡°✩ -rrinnie

“Hey, kiddo, ‘preciate you swingin’ by…”

The pub owner’s voice reaches you the moment you step inside, warm and familiar. The space is just as you remember—cozy, worn-in—but conspicuously quiet, missing the usual hum of laughter and music that used to breathe life into the old walls. “Figured if anyone could talk some sense into ‘im, it’d be you.”

You answer with a graceful smile—rehearsed, worn smooth by too many moments like this—but still unmistakably yours. “Thanks for calling me instead of the cops, Gare. He out back?”

The older man nods, sliding a half-empty glass your way. “Here. Poor sucker was spillin’ his guts over the terrace earlier—figure he could use a bit of hydration.”

“What would I do without you?” you murmur gratefully, taking the glass and drawing it close like a lifeline—one that might sprout legs and bolt if you loosened your grip. Or maybe it was just nerves, the tremor in your hands betraying all the self-regulating you’d done on the ride over. 

You don’t let yourself dwell on it. You make your feet move. You’re here for him—because walking away never came easy, not with Bucky.

“He oughta be askin’ himself the same damn thing about you!”

The wooden screen door clicks shut behind you, sealing you both onto the terrace—tucked away from the rest of the world. The city is hushed, as it always is on a Tuesday night—but that quiet makes room for memory: late nights after nursing school, venting over cold beers and leaning into the one shoulder that never moved away.

The same shoulder you reach for now, giving it a gentle shake—careful not to startle him. Your voice is soft, barely more than a whisper, slipping into his dreams like a lighthouse beckoning him home.

“James?”

Haunted blue eyes snap open—glossy, bloodshot, rimmed in a red so raw it wouldn’t surprise you if he wept blood. Recognition flashes across his face before it hits you like a lash—he looks worse than he did the last time you saw him.

“Look at you,” he exhales, a crooked smile tugging at his mouth where his cheek’s still pressed to the table. “Still comin’ around to take out the trash.”

You’d learned not to entertain the self-deprecation—your shrink drilled that in, warning how it always snowballed into an argument.

“Nice to see you, too. C’mon—” You set the glass of club soda down with an unintentionally sharp clink. He winces. “Drink this. Let’s get you home.”

“Oh? And what will the husband have to say about that?”

Affirmation Six: Establish boundaries, even when it’s uncomfortable.

You say nothing, just circle behind him and guide him upright by the shoulders. You nudge the barstool around with the toe of your white tennis shoe and set the glass in front of him again.

“My husband isn’t an appropriate conversation topic for us. Drink.”

He scoffs, turning his head to dismiss the glass. “Jesus, doll. What kind of yuppie bullshit water they got y’all drinking? ‘Appropriate conversation topic’—the fuck does that even mean?”

He stands slowly, deliberately, not to intimidate but to level with you—as if rising could make the question more reasonable. “What, I ain’t allowed to talk shit on him anymore?”

“God… Grow up, would you?” Your voice cracks with the effort to stay composed. “Gary called my landline. You woke my kids. My husband had to call the hospital to find me because he thought you were dying.”

You stare at him—really stare. “And here you are. Killing your liver and making me wonder why the hell I just crossed town for you.”

The moon casts a stark shadow across his face, catching the thin ribbon of blue in his eyes—bright against all that hollow.

His voice slices through the silence, low and certain. “’Cause you know deep down where your heart is.”

You let out a breath, shaky and quiet, and for a moment, all the years between you collapse into silence. That’s all your love was—a pawn in a never ending game of chess.

“You don’t get to say that anymore.”

He doesn’t flinch when you move away from him, doesn’t call out for you—pride a white-hot sword down his throat. He just watches you like he’s memorizing the way you look when you finally let go. 

You linger a second longer—long enough to give yourself the chance to turn back. But you don’t.

Your hand brushes the doorframe, fingers tightening like you’re steadying yourself before the fall.

“I’ve loved you longer than I should’ve.”

[soaringthroughthegalaxy]

Gentle Hands

Back on Kamino after successfully rescuing Echo and retaking Anaxes, you know just how to soothe Wrecker’s lingering back pain.

Pairing: Wrecker x f!reader

Word count: 1.4k

Warnings: established relationship, pet names, little bit of angst and comfort, flashback to how Wrecker got his scars, minor mentions of blood, fluff, soft love, light sprinkle of the hots for this giant mans size/strength, slight suggestiveness.

A/N: saw a headcannon that Wrecker doesn’t have a cybernetic eye and is instead partially/fully blind in that eye, and now I can’t get that out of my head.

Translations: ner kar'ta – my heart

“Urgh.” Wrecker’s grunt echoes through the barracks as he flops face-first onto his bunk. You’d just arrived back on Kamino from Anaxes, another successful mission accomplished and a new squad member onboard.

Tech had disappeared off with Echo in search of better armour and weapons for the ARC Trooper. Crosshair had slunk off in the direction of the shooting range – not that he needed the practice - while Hunter had remained on the Marauder, needing the peace of the empty ship to finish his mission reports.

That had left you and Wrecker alone, and your man had wanted nothing more than to nap.

“At least take your armour off first.” You gently nudge Wrecker’s shoulder, earning a grumble of protest. He pushes himself up, big hands prying his armour off his body, depositing it with various clangs beside his bunk. You loved him, but Maker above, he could be messy.

Back on the bed, face pressed into the mattress, Wrecker winced, feeling a tweak in his lower back. “Babe…” He called for you, turning his head to watch you take your armour off, stacking it neatly on the large table in the middle of the room.

His gaze roved across your body, admiring the soft curves of your frame as you turned back to him, hands on your hips and an eyebrow arched. He couldn’t help but feel lucky to have you. You’d started as their civilian handler, feeding them missions and making sure they came back safely – the Kaminoans couldn’t have anything happen to their prized experimental unit, after all – but somewhere along the way, you’d stolen his heart, with your soft smile and easy nature. You laughed at his jokes, stayed up to watch holofilms with him, cooed over Lula the first time you saw her, and were always happy to hand over a detonator or two when he had the urge to blow something up. At times, you tempered the big kid in him, while other times, you let go of the reins and let him run wild.

“Yes, ner kar’ta?” You ask, taking a few steps over to his bunk. For the sake of appearances, you had your own bunk, though it was never used. The rest of the squad knew of your relationship, but it was a well-guarded secret, not wanting to risk the Kaminoans finding out.

As you draw closer, Wrecker drags an arm out from underneath him to gently snag your hand, tugging you in. He’d always been hyper-aware of his size and strength, but he was especially cautious with you. Hurting you was something he never wanted to do, even if it was an accident.

“Think I’ve tweaked my back,” Wrecker admits, offering you a sheepish smile.

You can’t help but smile in return, the corners of your lips curving as your loveable giant gives your hand a soft squeeze. For a moment, you admire him, still in awe that he’s yours. But as usual, a flicker of guilt passes through you as your traitorous eyes slink to the web of scars across half his face, his damaged ear, and the milkiness of his right eye. It was your fault he was partially blind.

You’d only been with the boys a handful of months when you’d missed a tripwire as you’d been pushing forward through a cave, setting off a nearby explosive. You’d been out in the open while the others could duck for cover. Wrecker had decided to protect you, turning you and pressing you to his chest, shielding you from the blast, taking the brunt of it himself. The memory of the dust settling, the blood as you pulled back from his chest and looked up, the panic and fear that had consumed you as you’d taken in the damage he’d sustained right before he passed out... all because you’d forgotten for one moment to look where you were stepping.

He’d been medevaced to a nearby Venator. You’d gone with him, his brothers insisting on it while they finished the mission, knowing it would upset Wrecker if they lost their 100% success rate. Washing his blood off your hands in a small fresher as you waited for news from the medics almost broke you. You’d been so close to handing in your resignation and retreating back to your quiet home planet.

But then he’d woken after surgery, after his brothers had successfully completed the mission and returned, and you’d all been briefed on his condition. His first questions to the medics had been about you – were you safe or hurt? Tears had rolled down your cheeks as the medics had relayed this to you all, Tech subtly pressing a tissue into your hand, and you’d known then in your heart that you could never leave.

“You’re doin’ that thing again,” Wrecker says, having watched a faraway look cross your face. He knew you still struggled with the guilt of his accident. “You’re thinkin’ too much.” He tacks on, gently bringing you down to sit sideways on the edge of his bunk, big arm sliding around your middle. “I don’t blame ya. It was my choice, and I’d do it all again.” He reiterates, pressing a kiss to your body. He said it every time he saw you slipping back into the memory, and he’d keep repeating it until you believed it. 

Pulled back to the present, you offer him a soft smile, one of your hands moving to rub across his broad shoulders. “Sorry, ner kar’ta.” You murmur, focussing instead on the quiet noise of delight falling from his lips as your hands stroke his tense muscles. “Those tri-droids are probably the cause of your back pain.” You comment, watching his eyes flutter shut at your touch, the peacefulness of his expression chasing away the lingering guilt.

“They were stronger than they looked, but I wasn’t gonna let ’em crush the locals.” He comments, feeling himself melt into the mattress the more you rub at his shoulders.

You loved seeing him work, the effortless way he shoved assault tanks around or pried blast doors open, lifting up gunships like they weighed nothing, and how his thick fingers somehow nimbly managed to disarm explosives. “It was hot.” You admit, feeling warmth in your cheeks.

A rumble of laughter leaves him, the deep noise setting off butterflies in your belly, but he winces again as it jostles his back.

“Here.” You shift, gently easing the top of his blacks up. He helps you remove the garment, settling back on the bed as your hands return to his body. Broad shoulders taper down to his narrow waist, scars crisscrossing his warm, tanned skin. Evidence of a lifetime of war.

You get up momentarily, moving silently to your bunk to snag your unscented lotion – constantly aware of Hunter’s senses – and return to Wrecker a moment later. He shifts over, and you sit at his side, squeezing some of the lotion onto your hands. Rubbing them together, you warm them up before you press your hands against his back, dragging them across his body in firm, even strokes.

Wrecker’s moans of appreciation fill the barracks, and you stifle a giggle. Your hands keep working across his body, feeling solid muscles give with every pass, the knots loosening. Pressing your thumbs into his lower back, he grunts, hips rutting against the mattress. “Not until your back is better.” You tease, giving his butt a playful swat.

He grumbles in protest but knows you’re right – he’s too tired for anything anyway. The ache in his back is easing exponentially under your soothing touch, and he smacks his lips together as sleep beckons him, shifting on the mattress into an even comfier position.

The first drag of your nails across his warm skin makes him shiver, the corners of his mouth curving upwards as you start lightly scratching, fingers drawing patterns across the vast expanse of skin. The patterns shift to words, Aurebesh spelling out how much you love him, how handsome he is, how strong he is.

“I love you. You’re so good to me.” He mumbles, feeling the weight of your adoration, his eyes heavy with sleep, his mind struggling to focus on the words you’re scrawling across his body.

A warm smile passes over your lips, and you dip down to kiss his cheek softly. “I love you too.” You whisper back, fingers still moving lightly over his back as you hear his breathing turn deep and heavy, face going slack as he falls asleep.

You scoot to lay beside him, drawing his arm over your body. A nap wouldn’t hurt you, either.

[motthe]

Hi!! Since you were doing a holiday request event, I would like to request a fic which reader is female, and character we are gonna be with is megumi from jujutsu kaisen. Relationship status would be newly dating and settings ice skating!! Fluff ofc! I hope u have a good day or night!!

my first jjk drabble!!! i hope it’s enjoyable 🥺♥️ happy holidays!!

“This is a waste of time…”

Your fingers froze, the laces in your hands leaving behind the slightest burn from how hard you’d pulled to tighten them.

Lifting your head, you found Megumi scowling off to the side on the bench next to you. The ice skates sat by his feet, ignored.

“What? You don’t want to?”

He tilted his face towards you, brows slanted. “They said we were going out to shop.”

A wave of gibberish went by, the flash of pink giving away Yuji as he skated for his life from a rampaging Nobara. Luckily for him, she seemed to be struggling to keep up. Unfortunately, the speed her feet were running against the ice was enough to propel her after her target.

“C’mon, it’s seasonal fun,” you urged your boyfriend, nudging him as he scoffed and looked away once more.

“The rink is open year round.”

“And yet, this is our first time together.”

His eyes narrowed, shoulders tensing—a sure sign you were wearing him down.

“C’mon, Megs,” you said, wrapping your arms and leaning against him, “let’s go look horrendously stupid together and make memories!”

“That’s not helping your case,” he huffed.

You rubbed your cheek into his shoulder, humming. “Please?”

Instead of answering, he sighed bone-deep and shimmied in your hold.

“Tie your skates, dummy.”

Smiling into his uniform, you squeezed him one last time and resumed tightening your laces.

You were the first out onto the ice, quick to remember how to keep your feet under you. It’d been a good few years since you’d skated but you adapted well enough. It was hard to turn around, though you managed as Megumi grabbed the wall, slow to get one foot on the ice and testing it before fully stepping on. He stuck to the rail, eyes on his skates and body hardened from nerves. You’re sure if you grabbed his shoulder it’d be as tough as the frozen layer beneath him.

“Push off with the side of the blades, like you’re drawing a ‘V’ with one foot at a time.”

“This isn’t your first time,” he noted, grumpy as he focused.

“I said our first time together,” you giggled, moving closer as some kids went by.

Megumi groaned, put off by how easy it was for the toddler. “This is stupid.”

“Woo! Go Megumi!” yelled Yuji across the rink. He was being pelted by makeshift snowballs from the piles of shaved ice Nobara had made in her a few laps.

Your boyfriend flushed, pulling his collar up higher. It didn’t hide his pink-tipped ears.

Snickering into your shoulder, you took a slow breath and grabbed his hands, pulling him off the wall and towards the center.

“There you go!” you praised, a bit clumsy going backwards but he was doing well pushing forwards. “You’ll be better than me in no time!”

“Where did your gloves go?”

You hummed, looking down at where his navy gloves brushed your chilled skin. “Oh, Nobara forgot hers so I lent them to her!”

“Dummy, here.”

“No, I’m fine! I don’t want your hands to be cold.”

He grumbled, tugging a glove off and shoving your hand in it. His naked one grabbed yours as he pushed off to skate by your side. He wobbled but stayed upright.

“There,” he said, squeezing your hand.

“Thanks, Megs,” you mumbled, squeezing back.

His ears were red as you made your ways towards your friends, but you saw his smile before he covered it with his collar.