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sacr1ficialang3l · 26 days ago

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Feeling me up as a pornstar dies⋆˚࿔

WARNINGS: teenage angst. underage drinking. underage smoking. underage sexual activity. smut (mdni). dry humping. coming in pants. clit stimulation. cannibalism references (barely). angst. teenagers being horny. 5.0k

The drive-in becomes something of a tradition, just like the walks.

Every Friday—with an exception here and there—you and Dean go watch a movie together.

Sam stops coming along after the night you take him to see It.

You hadn’t known about Sam’s phobia of clowns, but Dean had. He laughed his ass off when Sam’s face fell as the movie title rolled in.

“I expected this from my asshole brother, but you?”

Trust a fourteen-year-old boy to be dramatic. It takes a whole new order of marshmallow nachos and lending him your precious copy of Carrie for him to forgive you. But he still refuses to come along.

The new tradition isn’t the only change that comes from that night.

Any residual ice between you and Dean has melted away.

You hang out all the time now—after school on the empty sidewalks, at the local arcade, at Bobby’s house. Why Dean Winchester chooses to spend time with you instead of one of the pretty, normal girls from school still escapes you.

But you actually start to talk, even if sometimes it’s still too quiet for Dean to catch. You make murmured jokes, tease him under your breath, and even nudge his shoulder when you're feeling brave. You chat in philosophy class, whisper the right answers to him, and he says them out loud just to piss Richie Rich off. They even get into a fight once, after the asshole mocks Dean’s worn-out clothes.

“Does daddy not love you enough to buy you a jacket that isn’t half-ruined?”

The next day, the tires of Richie Rich’s beloved BMW convertible are found slashed in the school parking lot. There’s no proof of who did it, even if Richie keeps pointing fingers at Dean.

No one notices the knife tucked inside your boot.

You also start taking Dean along on your searches for animal bones in the forest. The two of you wander through the foggy woods of Sioux Falls—your steps quiet and doe-like, Dean’s heavy and predatory. Once, you find a small, dainty bat skull hidden beneath a bed of pine needles. You let yourself fall to the ground, knees scraping, and rinse away the remaining decay with your water bottle.

Once it’s clean, you hold it up to Dean with a grin, like a trophy. The bone gleams under the sun, and your legs and dress are now smudged with dirt. He looks at the skull with mild disgust, but then his expression shifts into something soft and fond when he sees the genuine joy on your face.

“You little freak,” he huffs, ruffling your hair. But his voice is soft, coated in affection.

You sing along to his cassettes when you hang out in his room, even buying him new ones from the town’s local thrift store. He even teaches you how to shoot, wrapping his big hands around yours to help you aim. You manage to hit five out of seven cans, and the proud smile Dean gives you keeps you walking on clouds for the rest of the week.

You get drunk for the first time with him on your seventeenth birthday. Only, Dean doesn’t know it’s your birthday. You’re not one for celebrations. At least, not when they’re about you.

You sneak one of your mother’s bottles into Bobby’s house—whiskey, because Dean once said he liked it. The first shot makes your eyes water, and Dean laughs, teasing you for endless minutes. You punch his arm, pour yourself another, and swallow it like water.

It burns with something inherited. A heirloom. A curse.

Dean seems to feel the same—judging by the way he stares at the bottle like a betrayed soldier.

Can’t escape those addiction genes, you guess.

But the burning fades about halfway through the bottle.

Then, you lose all trace of shame. The barbed wire that’s always wrapped around your throat unravels, and the ever-present tension deep in your bones evaporates, leaving only malleable, tender flesh.

Dean lies on his bed, smoking a cigarette, as you change his cassette to something you got for him. Something darker, layered, ghostly.

“That obscure indie shit you dig so much,” Dean calls it.

“Did Sam teach you that word?”

“Shut up, smartass.”

Head floaty, empty of the voices that have haunted you since birth, you twirl around the room to the soft piano of the song.

Dean watches as the golden light of the setting sun shines around you like a divine glow. The flowy skirt of your dress rises up and exposes the smooth, delicate skin of your thighs. The smoke from his cigarette curls around you like you’re calling to it—like it recognizes your mystical nature and craves wrapping around you.

Dean knows the feeling.

You twirl again, trip on one of his boots, stumble into the bed next to him, and break into a mess of giggles and rosy cheeks, nearly burning yourself with his cigarette.

Oh, you wish Dean would put it out on you.

Both of you stare at the ceiling fan for a long moment of silence after that. Your hand trails down the edge of Dean’s wooden bed frame, your fingers finding one of the many markings carved into it. A pentagram inside a sun. You wonder what it means, if it’s a band’s logo or some kind of ritualistic symbol.

Instead of asking, driven by the drunken, unstoppable need to tell the truth, you whisper:

“Today’s my birthday.”

Another moment stretches between you, smoke slowly filling your lungs as Dean blows it toward you—you asked him to, because you can’t get enough of the smell—and then he whispers back:

“Happy birthday, sweetheart.”

The next day, Dean picks you up in the pickup truck and takes you to the drive-in, even though it isn’t Friday.

“Didn’t think you’d get away with turning seventeen and not celebrating, right?”

There’s a silly grin on his face, but something filters underneath. Something somber, blue and gray.

You don’t ask. Instead, you quickly get ready for the hangout. You decide to wear your mother’s black cowboy boots. It earns you an up-and-down look and a murmured compliment—and it makes you glow.

You settle into your usual spot at the drive-in. You buy some popcorn and finish it before the movie even starts. Dean still claims he doesn’t want any but ends up stealing a handful from you anyway. This time, you both sit closer to the middle of the bench seat, just inches apart.

The movie starts.

Slasher flick again.

Your eyes stay on the screen as a girl—topless, because they always are—gives her boyfriend a little show. They’ll both be murdered in minutes.

But Dean’s eyes aren’t on her. He doesn’t even glance her way as she removes her bra, slow and sensual in a way you’ll never be.

No, he’s looking at you.

Quiet but mesmerizing. Tragic and magical.

You’re scared, but you’re also starving.

It’s been months of staring at Dean—his pretty face, his soft freckles, his darkening hair, his darker soul—and being hungry.

You turn to meet his eyes, and something grotesque crawls inside of you.

“You’re so pretty,” he murmurs, his hand coming up to brush your bangs behind your ear.

Your mouth parts, but no sound comes out. You’re not used to compliments, and you’re not used to the burning sensation in your chest—the one you know the name of, but are too scared to label.

When Dean’s eyes dart down, you know it’s coming. You have half a mind to panic because this is your first kiss. But also, there’s something animalistic clawing at your chest, something that tells you you’ll know exactly what to do.

So your lips meet—unexpectedly warm and dreamy, Dean’s calloused hand cupping your cheek—and you have to dig your nails into your own thigh to stop yourself from devouring him.

Because you want to. You want to sink your teeth into his flesh, savor it. You want to hook your fingers around his ribcage, crack it open, crawl inside, and sleep snuggly wrapped around his heart. You want to eat him down to the marrow, suck every drop of pain out of his bloodstream, press against him so close that you rot together until you can’t tell where one ends and the other begins.

But for now, you settle with engulfing his lips with yours.

Dean kisses the way he shoots. Confident, expert, hitting every target. He knows exactly where to bite, how much tongue to use, and when to bury his fingers in your hair.

You, on the other hand, are all instinct. You follow what the beast on your chest demands, for the first time in your life letting yourself take what you want. You bite his lower lip, savoring the way the soft flesh gives under the pressure of your incisors. You suck on his teeth until a small noise escapes from the back of his throat. You pull on his hair, tilt your head when he does, and lick over his lips when he breaks the kiss.

You guess you did well enough, because Dean’s eyes are dark, pupils blown wide until only a thin ring of green remains. His hand tightens in your hair, enough to send a shiver down your spine but not enough to hurt.

You wish he would make it hurt.

“You fuckin’ drive me insane, sweetheart.”

“I think you were already insane,” you deflect with humor, because it’s easier than accepting that Dean Winchester might actually want you back. “But that’s okay. I am too.”

Dean laughs, shaking his head before kissing you again. This time, his hands travel to your waist, slowly pushing you backward.

Someone in the background screams just as your back hits the leather seat. Suspense music plays—slow and haunting—right when Dean hovers over you, arms on each side of your head, his breath fanning your face.

Tobacco, cherry pie, and a hint of mint.

“We don’t have to, if you—”

You tangle your fingers in the hairs at the nape of his neck and yank him down.

“I want to,” you murmur against his lips, barely keeping your voice from trembling.

Please.

Your teeth clash, and your tongues collide. This time, the kiss is violent. Lips bruising, hands groping, nails scratching. Dean shrugs off his jacket before he starts to kiss your neck. The heat that floods through your body is something you’ve never felt before. His teeth graze your pulse, and then he sucks, trapping the flesh between his teeth and licking.

The sound that escapes your throat is obscene, your back arching off the car seat, moving closer to him. Your eyes slam shut, and your hands clutch his shoulders, nails biting into his skin through his shirt

“Dean—”

“You taste even better than I imagined,” he murmurs against your neck, his warm breath over the new bruise making your breath falter.

He continues to kiss down your throat, around your collarbones, and lower. His mouth is desperate, possessive, leaving marks wherever it latches onto. You pull on his hair, nails running down his back over the thin fabric of his shirt. It makes him moan.

You shift under him, your legs spreading, making room for him. He fits perfectly in between them, the rough fabric of his jeans scratching the tender skin of your bare thighs, his lips finding yours again.

He presses you down against the car seat, hand on your hip, his whole body weight on top of you, grounding and maddening. His large, calloused hand glides over your thigh and makes its way under your skirt, where there’s already a wet patch on the front of your cotton panties.

His thumb brushes over the damp fabric, and you gasp. Your back arches, the touch so different from your own. Your hips buck, simultaneously trying to pull closer and away from his hand.

His grasp on your hip tightens, holding you in place as his thumb rubs slow circles over your clothed core, drawing a sweet little whimper from you.

“You’re so damn wet.” His voice is low, almost a growl, as his finger presses harder against you, sliding between your lips and finding that little bundle of nerves.

“Fuck,” you whisper, still conscious of the fact that the pickup truck has no side windows, and anyone walking by could hear you.

You’re dripping by this point, pupils blown and thighs twitching. You feel Dean’s fingers making their way to the side of your underwear, and panic rises in you for a second.

Someone in the movie dies screaming, probably the love interest.

You grab Dean’s wrist, stopping him from moving further. But before he can question you and the moment gets ruined, you wrap your legs around his middle and pull him closer, until his clothed cock is pressed against your core.

That��s safer. That you are ready for.

Dean doesn’t seem deterred by the change of plans. He simply groans when he feels the heat of you through the layers of clothing. He leans down for another hungry kiss, grunting against your lips as he rocks his hips, grinding his hard-on against you.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he murmurs, husky and rough.

“It—it’s good,” you whimper, your hips jerking up when the outline of his dick hits your swollen clit dead-on, sending electricity down your spine.

Dean moans into your mouth, biting down on your lower lip as your movement gives him a new angle of friction between the two of you.

You feel so sensitive, raw, and exposed. You’ve never felt this good, this heavenly, this sinful—like divinity is just on the tip of your fingers, but you’re falling straight down into the burning pits of hell.

The rough texture of denim should hurt against you, but it burns just right. The wetness dripping from you soaks through your panties, staining Dean’s jeans. Marking him, claiming him.

Dean’s hands move, cupping your breasts and squeezing, his thumbs rubbing over your nipples through the fabric of your top. It draws a needy, strangled sound from you.

“You’re so fuckin’ hot.” His hips start to move more frantically, rubbing over your clit again and again. “Wanna ruin you.”

Yes, please. Ruin me for anyone else, turn me into something only you can touch.

You throw your head back in pleasure, your hands finally landing on his chest.

You let them roam, exploring the sun-kissed skin you’ve been craving for so long. Your fingers slip under his shirt, pressing against lean muscle and scratching down his abdomen when his cock brushes over a particularly sensitive spot. The red lines you know will mark his skin make the beast inside you howl, satisfied and territorial.

Mine. All mine.

Even though he isn’t.

Dean groans, guttural and wild, his thrusts growing desperate, feral—almost like he’s actually fucking you. It feels too good, almost too much. A bitter reminder that this probably isn’t the first time Dean’s done this, that he’s been in this exact position with other girls, maybe even some from school.

But any sour thoughts leave your mind when he moans your name, low, urgent, strained. You’ve read enough books to know he’s close, that you’re about to make Dean Winchester come. Just from some over-the-clothes friction.

Your hand tentatively travels down his body, cupping his cock over his jeans.

Fuck, he’s big.

You squeeze, hard but not enough to hurt. Or so you hope.

Apparently, that’s the right thing to do, because Dean’s eyes snap shut, his hips buck uncontrollably, and he comes in his jeans. His breath is ragged, his hands gripping you, and his hips press further into your hand.

He pants your name over and over again, like a prayer. There’s a sheen of sweat on his forehead, his jeans ruined, and he looks fucking beautiful.

He rests his head against your chest, right between the valley of your breasts, as he comes down from his orgasm, struggling to catch his breath.

You run a hand through his hair gently, admiring the portrait-worthy sight of Dean Winchester after he’s just come—skin glistening with the afterglow and warm breath all over your skin. You still haven’t climaxed, but it is okay, you’re satisfied with making Dean feel good.

But then he lifts his head, lower lip trapped between his teeth, and his fingers find your drenched cunt over your panties. Your hips jerk, and a startled, breathy sound comes out of you.

“Fuck, Dean—” you whine, your hands clutching his shoulders.

“Feels good, huh?” he teases, a smirk in his face. But there’s something else behind it, an edge that you had never seen before. It is primal, possessive, and it makes you feel like you’ll combust.

His fingers quickly find your sensitive little nub and rub over it. Your legs part wider, eager and pliant. Your cheeks burn with pleasure and shame and ecstasy, all at once.

Somewhere in the background, the final girl is fighting the masked killer. She runs for her life, bleeding, hurting, escaping. You ignore it all.

“Dean, please,” your voice comes out all shaky and filthy. Your thighs tremble as his thumb travels down your slit, pressing onto your entrance over the fabric before returning to your clit, your slick sticking to his skin, soaking him in your juices.

You feel animalistic, wild, ravenous. You crave all of Dean—his flesh, his blood, his insides. You feel floaty, on fire, soft and raw at the same time. Your thighs tense, and your back arches. Your mouth is wide open, eyes half-lidded and glossy, lips bitten-red, and tongue half out.

“Come for me, sweetheart,” he whispers against your ear, low and deep, his thumb working at your overstimulated, sensitive cunt. His eyes are all over you, like he is admiring his work—the way you are completely at his mercy, coming apart under his touch.

Far away, blood splashes all over the screen. You are bathed in bright, crimson light as a scream escapes your throat. Your teeth find the skin of Dean’s neck and sink in, deep enough to leave marks that make the beast in your chest wail.

All you can see is red.

Your orgasm burns over you like wildfire, every nerve in your body igniting as his finger doesn’t stop its ministrations. Wetness gushes out of you, completely ruining your panties and leaving his fingers sopping. You pant, your body still twitching, eyes wide as you ride your climax. That’s the hardest you’ve ever come. You had no idea it could feel this good.

Dean pulls his drenched hand away from your drenched pussy, and then he brings his fingers to his mouth, tasting you.

You freeze, hazy mind trying to wrap around the fact that Dean just licked your slick off his fucking fingers. He hums, satisfied and a little strained, like he is holding back.

Something deep inside of you growls, and you feel sick with desire.

“What the—” Your hips twitch against nothing, your breath rapid and your eyes still glossy. And Dean looks so fucking smug about it.

“God, you taste so good, sweetheart,” he murmurs with a proud little grin. Another scream, sharp and biting.

The words make you blush, and you immediately pull Dean in for a kiss, trying to hide the way your cheeks burn.

You lick inside his mouth, tasting yourself on his tongue, and you moan. Fuck, you want Dean like this, coated in you, branded, yours. You want everyone who kisses him in the future to taste you, to know he belongs to you, even if he doesn’t.

Dean keeps you pressed against him, his hand reaching for your face, fingers gripping your chin and holding you in place so he can kiss you as much as he wants, however he wants. You let him, allowing his tongue to brush over every corner, every surface. You let him take whatever he wants from you, just hoping that he will take good care of it.

His mouth leaves yours for a second before biting down on your lower lip, almost hard enough to make it bleed. You hiss, your legs tightening around him, and your cunt somehow getting even wetter.

You bite back, teeth digging into his lower lip, leaving you with matching bruises.

Slowly, the kisses turn softer, sweeter. Both of you catch your breath, the rabid desperation quietly leaving your bodies, leaving only the tingling sensation of the afterglow as your limbs tangle together in the car seat.

Dean pulls away from your mouth, nuzzling into your hair, breathing you in. One of his hands is wrapped around your thigh, keeping you close, as if he can’t stand the thought of letting you go. He holds onto you like you’re something precious—something he doesn’t want to destroy but will inevitably crack under his touch.

And you will let him. You will let him break you, let him make you bleed until he feels better, until everything is better.

You’re glad he hasn’t pulled away, because you feel like you might die if he does.

Eventually, the credits roll, and you break apart. Dean pulls back slightly so he can look at you, his eyes holding the same intensity as before, but the sadness from earlier is creeping around them. Gloomy, almost mournful.

He kisses your cheek, then leaves a light peck on your lips.

“You okay, sweetheart?”

You nod, tiny and still a little hazy. He chuckles, presses another kiss to your lips, and sits up.

Every part of your body screams at the distance, but you swallow it all down before following him, straightening up on the car seat and running your fingers through your hair, trying to tame it. Thankfully, most people have left already, only a few suspiciously dark and shaky cars around you.

“Better get home quickly.” Dean turns on the engine, shifting in his seat and grimacing. “This will get really uncomfortable soon.”

Right, because he knows what to do in these situations. Because he’s done it before.

You try to get as comfortable as you can, though your underwear is clinging to your skin and your inner thighs are somehow still glistening and sticky. Dean turns on the radio, and Bon Jovi starts playing. You raise an eyebrow at him, but he just shrugs, and your laugh is swept away by the wind as he starts to drive home.

Dean’s hand finds your thigh, and it stays there for the whole journey. You stare out of the window into the starry sky, your mind swirling with the night’s events.

Your insides feel melted, turned into ashes by Dean’s burning touch. You feel like you’re glowing, the memory of his rough hands on you still fresh in your mind, your body remembering him like a tattoo you know you will never get rid of.

Dean has etched himself onto your skin tonight, carved his name into your heart, and you should be ecstatic. But his shoulders are tense, his eyes unreadable as he stares at the dirt road in front of him like it might hold some kind of ancient knowledge. His fingers don’t drum along with the music, his mouth set in a thin line instead of that relaxed little smirk that is ever-present on his face. And while his hand is on you, it feels less like comfort and more like tragedy.

You make your way to your house in silence, utterly and nerve-wracking.

“Right, I almost forgot.” Dean kills the engine and grabs a small wooden box from the glovebox. “I got you something.”

Your jaw drops a little, your eyes widen, and you hold the box like it’s the most precious thing you’ve ever set your eyes on. You haven’t received a birthday gift since you were five, before your mother had found her true love in the bottles.

��You didn’t have to, Dean,” you whisper, but your fingers are already opening the box, delicately and reverently, as if it’s something holy.

“Of course I had to,” he huffs, his eyes studying your every expression.

You don’t argue. Instead, you carefully unwrap whatever’s hidden in the box. A gasp leaves your mouth, and Dean snorts when you look up at him with eyes full of wonder, starstruck and beautiful.

Inside the box, wrapped in velvety fabric, is a silver dagger. The blade is shiny and wavy, gorgeous and sharp. The handle is engraved—smooth, swooping little waves on the crossguard, words in a language you don’t recognize elegantly carved into the handle, and at the end, a metal goat skull.

You devotedly take the dagger into your hands, holding it with the love and gentleness you once only had for your oldest paperbacks, those with broken spines and yellowing pages. Your fingers run over one of the goat’s horns, admiring the cold perfection of pure silver.

“It matches with all those bones you dissect.”

You huff, rolling your eyes. “Articulate, not dissect.”

But the smile on your face is sweet and endeared, and your eyes swell up with tears you force yourself to hold back.

“This is too much, Dean.” But your hand is already wrapping around the handle, the weight of the blade in your palm feeling natural, like it was always supposed to be there. “Where did you even get this?”

A pure-silver dagger couldn’t be cheap anywhere.

Dean shrugs, trying to act nonchalant, but his chest puffs out at the sight of you being so moved by his gift. “Bobby had it hidden around in his basement, and I thought it’d fit you better.”

That makes you giggle, eyes darting up toward him. You fight the urge to jump into his lap, to wrap yourself around him and never let him go.

“Is it real silver?” you have to ask. Dean nods once and doesn’t offer more explanation.

“You’re a decent shot, but I’ve seen you with that knife of yours,” he chuckles, his hand wrapping over yours on the handle of the dagger and squeezing. “It’s just in case you need to defend yourself.”

He whispers it like it’s a secret, like he’s afraid someone—or something—will listen.

You look back down at the dagger, at Dean’s grip around your hand, at the way it seems almost desperate, scared.

You wonder why you can’t just defend yourself with your old knife, why Dean wants you to have this one. You wonder about him learning to shoot, bow-hunt, and knife-throw. You wonder about the markings on his bed frame and the way he always stares at the shadows for just a little too long. You wonder about what the hell his dad does for work, and what has Dean so terrified.

“Why does it have to be silver?” you murmur instead, because you’re really good at looking red flags right in the eye and then completely ignoring them.

Your thumb runs back and forth over the skull, and your heart flutters at the knowledge that Dean thought about you after seeing something so beautiful. Because that is the most important thing at the moment.

Dean shrugs, not quite meeting your eyes. “I don’t know, it might be… useful.”

It doesn’t explain much, but then Dean leans forward and presses a kiss to your lips. He tastes like popcorn butter and still a little like you, and it sends every rational thought flying out of your head.

He murmurs a goodbye against your lips, and you whisper it back. You hold the wooden box against your chest with veneration as you jump off the truck, closing the door and staring at Dean through the glassless window.

You offer him a sweet, enamoured smile, but his face is twisted. His smile doesn’t quite meet his eyes, and his hands are slightly shaky where he grips the steering wheel.

You're about to ask what’s wrong when he opens his mouth, not really looking at you.

“Just—please promise me that you’ll stay safe.”

It takes you out, because it’s a weird thing to say, even for you. You know better than anyone that there are a lot of things you need to stay safe from, that they come in all shapes, from shadows following you at night to your own family, but Dean says it like it’s imminent. Like danger is coming for you, soon and fast, like he knows it, like he’s seen it.

“I—” But he looks worried, pained, sad. And you can’t handle it. So you don’t ask any questions again. “I will stay safe, I promise.”

It seems like enough for Dean, since he nods and turns on the engine again. You stare at him a little longer. At the boy you’ve been watching forever, the boy who saw you when nobody did, the boy who was the first to touch you and who you think might just be the last.

I don’t need to worry about staying safe with you by my side, boy with the gun.

You stare at him as he gets ready to drive away, and something rises from your chest. Something bitter but addictive, something disgusting and cloying and infective but oh so fucking good. You know the name, but you don’t say it. Not now, maybe someday.

“See ya,” you mutter, and Dean clenches his jaw before nodding, finally looking at you like a cult leader looks at a lamb before slashing its throat open.

“See ya, sweetheart.”

But it seems like you did need to worry, because that’s the last you see of Dean.

He doesn’t show up at school the next day, nor the next one, nor the whole week. A month goes by, and there’s no sign of the Winchester brothers. Bobby offers no explanation more than a “I’m sorry, kid.” and a head pat.

You have no number to call, no address to mail a letter to, no reason why.

All you’re left with is a silver dagger, a newfound taste for whiskey, bruises between your thighs, and a broken heart.

The Dean Winchester special.

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NOTES: Part three! I'm so sorry for the wait, but it's finals week. I will try to be as consistent as I can with the update but it might take a little while. still, I am so in love with this story and love every second of writing it. thank you so much for all the love, I don't deserve you guys. please let me know what you think, it makes my sick little brain so happy! I love you all, hope you liked it!!!

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cryinggirlnamedhelen · 1 month ago

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never grow up - s. haruka

cw; fem!reader, mentions of violence, sakura and reader are 23

now playing ; never grow up (taylor’s version) by taylor swift

༯ sakura’s never thoroughly thought parenthood through. sure, occasional flashes of having his own child with you when thinking about your future together have occurred, but he always ended up flustered and stopped thinking about it nearly instantly.

༯ so a few months after your wedding, when you timidly hand him a pregnancy test, sakura is practically frozen as his eyes are fixated on the two red lines on the stick. positive. he was going to be a father? him? before he could realize it, his chest tightened, and tears filled his eyes.

༯ fears and worries drowned him instantly. what if his child got bullied because they received his genes for heterochromia or piebaldism? would they be able to defend themself? what if they didn’t like violence?

༯ but one smile from you eased all of his worries as his eyes softened. he would have you with him through parenthood, and sakura could face an entire life of hardships as long as he had you with him.

༯ he was financially well off enough. he was still a part of the bofurin gang and often visits furin to help out the current students. he works with the roppo ichiza in the red light district as a bodyguard, but he never entertains the hostesses; he doesn’t even talk to them. he’s only there because he really doesn’t have the ability for many other occupations for money.

༯ he still lives in an apartment at makochi with you though. now that you’re pregnant, he’s considered moving out to perhaps a larger home, but you saw no point. maybe you could when your kid was older, but for now, when the your child hasn’t even been born yet, you wouldn’t need to think about this.

༯ alumni from furin and numerous other organizations are always coming over to your apartment and bringing you both everything. from baby items to food to just helping you both around the house, they’re basically here every day. suo, nirei, umemiya, tsubaki, along with kotoha, are always the most active with both gifting and taking care of you.

༯ he did so much research on pregnant women and babies to the point where it’s his entire search history now. “can pregnant women have grapes” “is air conditioning good for babies”; you once caught him asking one of the kind old ladies at the bakery in makochi about how to take care of you.

༯ when you actually had your kid, sakura was stressing out as if he were insane, beads of sweat rolling down his temple and pacing back and forth outside of the delivery room. he wanted to stay with you, but the nurses, seeing how stressed he was, knew that he would only be a distraction, so they kicked him out.

༯ he did immediately barge into the room the moment he heard the first few cries, nearly running to see you first and then his daughter soon after.

༯ the moment the nurse handed his daughter over to him, sakura felt tears brim at his lashes. he hasn’t even known her for five minutes, but he loved her so much that his stomach was heavy and his heart was doing backflips. she was sleeping so peacefully despite the fact that she was screaming and crying just a minute ago. a bit like you when you were still pregnant.

༯ hinako. that was her name. because she was the child of the sun in sakura’s world: you.

༯ hinako rarely ever cried. as long as she had enough food and sleep, she was a quiet but curious baby. she always grabbed at your and sakura’s hands, giggling whenever you kissed her forehead, and reaching at sakura’s face whenever he held her.

༯ sakura didn’t know how to describe just how glad he was when he found out that she didn’t have heterochromia. she had your eyes, but she did have black hair with occasional white locks. sakura decided that the moment she was old enough, he was definitely going to teach her how to fight.

༯ watching hinako grow up is painful for sakura. especially with him knowing that there’ll be at least a few people making fun of her hair—especially since she looks so beautiful. he dreads the thought of her one day meeting someone who is a little more than a friend, but he knows that it will have to happen at some point. he just wants to keep her as his little girl for as long as he can though.

༯ he doesn’t seem like it, but he’s the biggest girl dad ever. whenever you go into hinako’s room, you can always catch him playing tea with her—and taking it way too seriously—or brushing her hair and braiding it cautiously and slowly.

“papa, am i ugly?”

hinako’s small voice sounded almost nervous as the words exited her mouth. she was a bit too mature for a five year old, something that sakura has always despised. furrowing his eyebrows, he crouched down to be eye level with her.

“why do you ask? did something happen?”

hinako’s hands clamped together, pulling and fidgeting with her fingers as her eyes darted away, her lower lip slightly shaky and pushing out. “kokomi said that my hair is ugly and that i look weird.”

sakura wasn’t low enough to beat up a child, especially not a classmate or friend of hinako’s, but he was certainly considering calling their parents or scolding them. his eyes softened at the fresh batch of tears that was now framing hinako’s eyes, gently petting her head.

“well she’s wrong. hinako, you’re so beautiful, you know that? you’re perfect. don’t let her words get to you. your hair is so unique, and not a lot of people in the world have hair like yours.“

hinako’s eyes lit up, and sakura couldn’t help but smile. she looked just like you. you were out shopping right now, but you always had a constant presence in the house, even if you weren’t physically there. and suddenly, sakura’s mind flashed to a few years ago, during his first year of high school.

“sakura, you’re beautiful. you know that, right? you’re literally perfect. your eyes are so vivid and vibrant and they look like marbles. they’re so colorful and look ethereal. and your hair is eye catching in the best way. no matter how big a crowd is, i can always catch sight of you from your hair alone. but not only that, but you have features that are unique to you. no one else in the world has features and looks like yours, so you should be proud. i love you the way you are, sakura.”

your words were spoken years ago, but they still affected sakura to this day. and now, they were affecting hinako as well.

#wind breaker #wbk #wind breaker x reader #wbk x reader #wind breaker sakura #sakura wind breaker #wind breaker x you #wind breaker x y/n #wbk x you #sakura haruka #haruka sakura #sakura x reader #sakura haruka x reader #haruka sakura x reader #sakura haruka x you #haruka sakura x you #sakura #wbk sakura

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sinning-23 · 1 year ago

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Baby Mama (OPLA HEADCANNONS)

In honor of mothers day, here some little headcannons I cooked up for our faves! Hope yall enjoy lol

Luffy

-This mf was like...actually capable of conceiving a child lmao.

-There was really no like initial shock, it was more like overwhelming joy? There was honestly no need to reveal it to the rest of the crew since the second you told him he shouted it loud ad fucing possible.

-"Luffy, uhhh I think im pregnant." You huff, hand over your forehead as you try to figure out the next course of action.

"YOURE PREGNANT?! THATS GREAT!"

"Y/N IS WHAT?" Nami gasps, eyes flitting form you to Luffy, then to your belly.

"YOU’RE PREGNANT?! HOW?" Usopp questions, only to have Sanji interrupt,

"Well Usopp, when two people love eachother- or well... lets talk about he birds and the bee-"

"I KNOW HOW THAT WORKS DICKHEAD-"

-Luffy is a.....he's a great dad, just a little uhhhh...wild?

-You have to explain tho him that this baby cannot fucking eat solid food.

-He's learning and that’s all that matters. He knows when to get serious about his kid and when its okay to be a lil silly.

-Oh and be prepared for when your kid hits about 6-7 cause they're so much like their father its crazy-

Zoro

-He's thuroughly convinced its your fault because he knows for a fact he has impeccable pull out.

-"That’s not mine." He hums, pointing at the newborn with a raise brow.

The fucking liar this baby is his spitting image. Like your genes didn't evens stand a chance. The baby even fucking mean mugs like he does, that lil stoic face.

-"This isn’t yours?" You question, holding the baby up side by side with his obvious father.

"Nope"

-Once he’s like fully processed and accepted the fact that your pussy just so happened to weaken his pull out game, he will claim the child and make sure he's being helpful with both you and the infant.

-It was actually pretty fucking hilarious to see the baby try and latch to his nipple cause his tits are fucking massive. Heeee didn’t think it was that funny tho💀

-Just let the kid grow up a little bit and they’re all about their father, and even though he may not show it all the time, he adores his baby. And they will always be a baby in his eyes. And he things you’re a phenomenal mother even though it was sort of a surprise.

Nami

-You had come aboaded with a toddler. And sure enough they latched to Nami in a heartbeat.

-“AHT! No, you stay with me and let them work.” You reprimand, giving a quick apology to the tangarine haired girl.

“Oh no they’re okay. Hey, you wanna see something cool?” He hum, taking the 2 year old by the hand before you can protest.

-Auntie Nami accidentally turned to ‘mamami’ (Mama Nami) andddd it just stuck.

-one night the three of you had fall asleep in Nami’squarter and she had woke up and just, admires you both. She couldn’t help the way her chest squeezed when she thought about raising this child with you or how much she loved being a part of your lives.

Your eyes flutter open and you give her a knowing look, her face already tinted pink.

“Nami,” you begin, your free hand pushing hair behind her ear as she hold your wrist, placing a kiss there.

“Thank you, love you.” You hum, letting yourself fall back asleep.

-yeah she’s stuck with you two for life

-unironically calls you her baby mama

Usopp

-is literally the best fuckinf dad. Literally ever.

-he wants to make sure he’s an active part of your child’s life, being sure to keep you both in good health and high spirits.

-when you broke the news he was terrified. How good of a father could he be? He just don’t want to let you down.

-“W-What if our kid hates me?” He voices one night, hands holding your tummy.

“I doubt that’ll happen. You’ll be okay Uso.”

-Guess having impeccable aim runs in the family because by time your child is year they’re already throwing projectiles with phenomenal accuracy.

-you can’t tell me he doesn’t make most of your babies toys.

-he loves seeing you just have little moments with your baby, he definetly cried when they took their first steps.

-keeps a picture of the three of you tucked away

-hints at wanting another one from time to time

Sanji

-fainted when you told him.

-honestly he’s a little shocked. He didn’t really put ‘father’ on his goal list but here yall are lol

-he’s very supported and knows that morning sickness is a bitchhhh

-“how’re my girls…or boy” he greets, pressing a kiss to your tummy then to your lips.

-much to his surprise, he was right on both parts because you’re having twins! Yayyyyy

-you cuss him out when your in labor.

-“SANJI YOU ASSHOLE! YOU DID THIS TO ME! WHY DID I FALL FOR YOUR DELICIOUS FOOD YOU FUCK!”

-he’s not allowed in the delivery room lmao he fainted again when the nurse asked if he’d like to see what was goin on

-after 6 horrendous hours, your baby boy and girl are finally born and he’s too delighted.

-“good job baby.” He praises, peppering your tired face with kisses.

-when the kids are older he’s always falling victim to their puppy eyes and begging when they ask for dessert before dinner

-“please dad! We won’t tell mom! Pleaseeee!”

-he loves being with you and loves that he’s been blasted with a wonderful wife and two beautiful children

Shanks

-oh the minute he found out he was stunned! He was sure he already had an illegitimate baby somewhere but for one of the baby mamas to actually let him know was, a bit of a surprised?

-and that’s it. He doesn’t really go out of his way to go visit and see if it’s true. He goes on about his business truely.

-one day, he comes across a lady at a bar, her bright red hair thrown up and she waits tables, her gaze almost immediately locking on his as she frowns

-….what the fuck she looks just like him.

-she goes to a couple other of the waiters/waitresses and the minute they catch his gaze they’re nodding profusely at her.

-it took, shit you not. 3 hours for them to get a table and that was only because her boss came in and MADE her seat the crew.

-“what do you want.” She huffs, her notepad clenched so tight it crumples the paper.

Shanks only further studies the girl, her rage ever present as she slams the notepad down.

“I SAID, What. Do. You. Want. Quickly, or I’m leaving you here to wait 3 more hours. Spit it the fuck out you old bastard.” She spits, leaving him somewhat shocked.

-“How about the-“

-“we’re all out. Deadbeat.” She finishes, dropping her apron and notepad, then walking out.

Safe to say that wasn’t the reaction he was expecting.

-when he finds where you guys live and YOU answer the door thank god, he firstly apologizes (which you don’t accept right away) and explains how he already met your daughter.

Speak of the devil she had just rounded the corner asking who it was.

“Don’t let this fucker the house mom, please.” She begs, gaze flittering form you to her sperm donor.

-yeahhhhhh this is why he hardly ever makes the effort to see his unsuspecting kids. Doesn’t quite pan out how he thinks.

Mihawk

- you’re not the only one at all. He’s got plenty fucking kids running around and you’re fully aware of that, having run into more than one child that looks just mf like him.

-he won’t deny any of them, but he doesn’t feel like he owes them anything either? It’s weird and you usually feel bad that he picked you and your child when he could very well have done that for the rest of them.

-he often assures you that we’re were one night stand situations he hardly remembers after being so damn drunk.

-he’s a good dad though and a great husband. He makes sure you’re taken care of even is he’s gone a lot of the time. When you told him you were having a baby he didn’t leave from your side.

-when the baby is born he’s a bit suprised they don’t look like him but as soon as they open their eyes he’s so mf smug. Those eyes are a dead giveaways that’s his baby.

-don’t let that baby ask for something be used Mihawk will without a doubt give it to them no matter what.

-“Honey I-“

-there standing in front of the fridge, in laminated with its light are your husband and child. Their eyes wide like an owls, staring directly into your soul.

-“We wanted ice cream.”

Buggy

-he loves his babies. Hands down loves his fucking babies. Plural because of course you were blessed/cursed with triplets.

-two boys, one sweet girl, and not one of them look like their daddy, besides that faint tint of blue in their hair.

-and he’s maddddd, well. not at you but at his genes.

-“honey wait, they might just grow into it?” You encourage, trying not to laugh as he tried to figure out why his kids don’t look like him.

-thank god you were right because by time they were all 4/5 that blue had brightened and the little red glow of their noses were ever present.

-he’s so attentive with you, taking care of the three of them when you need rest or just in general cause how gorgeous wife needs rest after making three gorgeous babies

-freaks his babies out when he takes his head off

-then they won’t leave him the fuck alone about it and will often take pieces of him while he chases them around for them back.

-his babies get their own spot on the show and it fucking adorable watching toddlers dance to circus music with face paint they insisted they do themselves

-best dad buggy 100%

#x reader #one piece #reader is black #one piece live action #i don't care he's hot #headcannons #one piece x reader #opla #hes so hot #opla luffy x reader #one piece zoro x reader #nami x reader #opla usopp x reader #opla sanji x reader #opla shanks x reader #opla mihawk x reader #opla buggy x reader #Mother’s Day headcannon

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dyl-the-pregoologist · 1 year ago

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Look at the babies move in there beauty, strong, big and healthy don’t ya think? Maybe they’re running out of space.

Your husband was right about letting someone else get you pregnant, doubt he could give you twins like these two, so active and strong, soon to come out…it was a good baby shower gift from him to give us a weekend in a hotel, so we could keep fucking while he prepared everything.

Ya know? If you two ever want to expand the family with my strong genes, I’ll be glad to help~ I’d love to give a lucky someone triplets 💜

Come on, let’s fuck again, till I make you go into labor

#pregnancy #pregnant #preggophilia #preggo kink #baby belly #preg k!nk #preg belly #birth kink #cuckcold #overdue pregnancy

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animeyanderelover · 10 months ago

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Hii!

I am so glad your requests are finally open :D

Is it possible for me to ask for yandere Meruem+royal guards (like you did at some point, if not just please ignore this!) with a darling who is on her period??

Tyy for reading my request and you are always free to ignore this one!!

Tw: Yandere themes, possessive behavior, obsession, delusional mindset, clinginess, overprotective behavior, some Nsfw, blood kink, breeding kink, dub-con, manipulation, mentions of pregnancy, isolation, afab reader

Tags: @jamayah @chxxz @shenryu-sama @maggiequinn59 @leveyani @cynniical

Darling on her period

👑🐈🎻💥Some brief questions will undoubtedly be raised, whether you bring up the topic of your menstruation and your need for hygiene products before your week begins or when it happens. After all the biology of Chimera Ants is very different than the one from a biological woman. Everything will be swiftly taken care of though as soon as you have explained yourself. Shaiapouf and Meruem are the ones who inform themselves the quickest about everything involving a period and it is the butterfly who arranges everything so that you receive what you need even before Meruem can order any of his servants to do so. Neferpitou prefers seeking you out themselves and questioning you about how a period exactly works instead of picking up a book. Youpi, who has no human genes in him is the one who would probably be the one who understands the least about your condition but with all the commotion going on around him he picks up enough to get a decent idea of what your body goes through once a month.

👑🐈🎻💥Whether you plan to tell anyone about when exactly your period starts or not is nothing you hold any control over. Not only do they sense the change, they even smell it. So when you have four pairs of eyes looking at you even more oddly than what you are used to don’t wonder why. It is Shaiapouf who makes the most drama the first time it happens as he initially believes that you have gotten hurt, his words causing Pitou to active their Nen ability in case you need medical assistance whilst even Youpi steps closer, the worry of the butterfly seemingly infectious. It’s Meruem who tells all of them sternly off with only a few words before he questions you what’s going on. The first time you have your menstruation whilst captured as their darling is the time they’re the most attentive to see how you’re feeling and how you can help. They remain that attentive to you even when you don’t have your period but whenever your bloody week arrives all of them are more overbearing than normally though all of them have different ways to treat you on your week.

👑Meruem keeps you more to himself than normally when you are on your period as the scent of your blood clings even more to you when you are menstruating. One reason for that is so that you don’t wander off and the scent of your period attracts other Chimera Ants lurking around the palace. The other reason is that he finds himself sexually more aroused when you’re on your days and wants you with him so that you’re available any time he needs to have your body. Your period is after all an indicator that you aren’t pregnant yet, something Meruem strives to change sooner or later as his biology as the king of the Chimera Ants demands of him to set heirs into the world to see it through that his kind thrives. When he isn’t in a sexual mood he sees it through that you receive everything you need. As your period tends to make you more sensitive and emotional Meruem somehow seems to be more irritated as well, especially towards his servants if they are even one milisecond too late when you ask for something, especially if you are in pain.

🐈Neferpitou is the most playful one from the servants, even more so when you are on your period. They understand pretty soon that you tend to suffer from cramps or just feel very uncomfortable and sensitive in general when you have your monthly bleeding so they do their best to make you focus on something else. Pitou lets you touch their ears and their tail if you want to, resting their head in your lap as you do so or searches for other things that the two of you can do in the time where the both of you are alone. They bring new card games and board games with them to distract you from any pain or discomfort you may feel and they lose on purpose in order to avoid making you sad since you tend to be more easily frustrated when bleeding and in pain. When they hear from Shaiapouf that apparently an orgasm helps with cramps they even offer to make you cum around their fingers or their tongue if you are in extreme pain though they won't force you if you instead ask for pills instead. Neferpitou is most likely still a tad bit disappointed.

🎻Shaiapouf is the most attentive one during your period, far exceeding everyone else to the point where it is too much. As the obsessive freak he is for his darling he marks down every day they are bleeding and then calculates when they are most likely to experience their menstruation again. A few days before it happens he is already hovering around you more, asking you if he can do anything for you. He doesn't let you take any medication against the cramps when he is the one attending to you as he believes that you don't need them when he is the one serving you. He prepares you your snacks and meals, plays the violin for you, makes sure that you drink enough throughout the day and spends every minute coddling you, especially when you are in pain and he brings you a hot-watter bottle. There is a strong urge to wrap you up in his wings and cuddle with you when you are laying in bed whilst suffering from your cramps and he may just act on that urge from time to time. He's also the first one who finds out that an orgasm helps with the blood flow and reduces the cramps and as the loyal servant he is he insists and succeeds in convincing you to let him assist you in any way he can.

💥Youpi is the breath of fresh air, the calmest one from all of them. In between his King and the other two servants he is the one who gives you the most space though he is still always lingering close to you in case something should happen or you should need something. As his obsession usually shows itself more when you are in danger he is the most normal one which is ironic considering that he is the least human from all of them. As there is no one he can kill and rip apart when you are suffering from cramps he finds himself initially struggling as he doesn't know how he can help until you tell him of the pain killers which he from that day on then promptly provides and keeps stored somewhere when he is the only one looking after you for a moment. If you need any comfort, especially when you are in pain he usually lets you sit in his lap whilst keeping one of his big hands over your womb and rubbing it in hopes of helping you with the pain until the pain killers do their work.

#yandere hunter x hunter #yandere hxh #yandere meruem #yandere neferpitou #yandere shaiapouf #yandere menthuthuyoupi #yandere x reader #hunter x hunter x reader #hxh x reader

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fancyfeathers · 4 months ago

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Always Prey But Never A Bird

Based on the Yandere Batfam w/ Wife/Mother!Darling & Daughter/Sister!Darling series

Previous Chapter <- Chapter Twelve -> Next Chapter

Taglist: @jsprien213 @toast-on-dandelioms @plsfckmedxddy @lilyalone @sydneyyyya @yandere-wishes @cxcilla @nemesis-writer @sadslasher13

“This was her last known location,” Foxglove spoke as she stood on top of the Novick Building where your emergency alert was sent out, Clove, Nettle, and Henbane were all with her in their suits and each of them looked over the scene, not a trace of anything or anyone being there. Foxglove looked around until her eyes fell upon one of the security cameras on a nearby building. “If I could get access to Mr. Austen’s network I could piece together about a quarter of the camera in the city and we could maybe see where she is, but that is a huge maybe.”

“Well Clove and I could drive down to meet him, he’ll probably be able to help us- does anyone hear that?” Nettle began to speak but was cut off by a buzzing sound in his ear from the comm lines which should be off since everyone on their team who was active was right on that rooftop. “I’m not crazy right?” “No, you are not crazy.” There was a new voice on the comm lines, a female voice, one that was unfamiliar to all of your friends and teammates, but one that you would have recognized in an instant, Barbara Gordon. “Don’t panic, I’m a friend, my name is Oracle and I want to help find your friend just like you.”

“I’m sorry, but Oracle we don’t know who you are and our friend was just kidnapped-”

“Come to the Old Wayne Tower, there is a garage door in an alley off of Kane Street that is closed to the public, you can park your vehicles there and there will be someone down there to meet you and bring you up to the clocktower.” Clove was interrupted by the mysterious woman who hacked into their network, or maybe she already had. “Also you guys really need to get a more secure security system, this is the second network of yours that I have gotten into.”

“Oh so you are with the Bat, aren’t you?” Clove questioned and there was a hum from the other end of the line from Oracle.

“More or less, look, just get here within the hour, we don’t have much time to lose here.” There was the sound of keys on a keyboard being clicked before Oracle's line went dead.

“Jesus… so we are supposed to listen to her?” Henbane groaned, glancing around at your teammates and they all just stood there in silence with their own thoughts about what had just transpired. “Guys, seriously?!”

“Well, what else are we supposed to do?” Nettle replied, shrugging his shoulders and walking toward the edge of the building. “Our friend is missing and the Bat wants to work together, or at least his friends do, I’d rather not wait around and see what happens.”

“He does have a point, we aren’t exactly in a position to refuse,” Clove responded, following after Nettle while speaking over to the most muscular of the bunch, after all Henbane was built like he was supposed to have powers but they just never came to him like a recessive gene. “Look if we don’t like the vibe they’re giving off we’ll just leave, but something tells me they’ll have more resources to find her than we do.”

“God… I would follow you all into hell and you would say it’s fine.”

______________________

You did not like the room where you were kept in, not the fact that it was nice but the fact that there were no windows, no sound outside of the room, and no one to talk to once Gabriel left you alone, putting on that unsettling owl mask as he called you sweet pet names like he always did before this, meanwhile you were left to cope with the fact that the man you had thought you were in love with was an absolute monster, one who would kill his mother with no remorse in the slightest, he almost seemed giddy at the mere mention of the blood and gore he had created.

You had been changed out of your suit while you were unconscious, which you were not exactly surprised by since he had seen how your suit was put on that night at the museum, you were now wearing a long yellow skirt and white button-up shirt with a cream colored vest and black ribbon tie, the clothing was almost reminiscent of the old school uniform of your high school you wore when you had started dating Gabriel, though this version was far less like a uniform and rather more like the sort of clothes that detective characters in books or movies would have worn. There was not much to do besides read the few books that were lying on the side tables by the bed, mostly history books or historical fiction, fitting for Gabriel’s interests in historical works that started when you were in high school.

You groaned and tossed the book onto the bed as you stood up from the armchair you sat in, you had read that book a few years prior back at the manor, a recommendation from Jason. Your stocking-covered feet led you over to the wardrobe, bored out of your mind, and you opened the heavy doors of the antique piece of furniture and inside were dress clothes, the kind someone like you, who grew up in money, would wear on the daily, there were dresses, skirts, and blouses, all most likely for you, but there were also nice dress shirts, pants, and vests most likely for Gabriel. Your hands drifted to the sleeves of one of Gabriel’s dress shirts, your fingers tracing the seams of the expensive silk shirt and then your fingers felt something, a pocket that was sewn into the inside of the shirt’s sleeves, your fingers slipped inside the shirt to feel the size of the pocket more accurately and you felt out the shape of the pocket to be the perfect size of a small throwing knife, although it was empty currently. It should not have surprised you, knowing who he actually was and his family owning the largest high fashion company in the country would have made it easy for him to get his hands on custom-made fashion pieces like this. You then checked the sleeves of your own clothing and there was no such a thing in any of your own, but then you looked over all of his clothing, suit jackets, shirts, pants, most of them had some sort of hidden pockets to hide what he needed to be hidden. Hidden weapons mixed with his false persona that charmed almost all of Gotham made him such a deadly person with such a wicked heart inside of him hidden behind all that kindness and smiles he showed you.

“The young master picked out every piece in there for you personally.” A new voice spoke up suddenly, you did not even hear the heavy doors to the room open. You whipped your head around to see a young woman in a long red dress, curled and styled brown hair, but she wore that same white owl mask that hid her expression and face from you which was unsettling, to say the least. The unknown woman took a step towards you which made you flinch at first but then she just continued walking forward towards you, if anything she was amused by your reaction. “I know you probably don’t remember me since it has been quite a while since we last met, it’s been almost five years since graduation.”

“We… We went to high school together?” You paused, pondering her words, honestly, you should have guessed if one person in your life who you were close to that was outside of your family was a part of such a cult-like organization you should have guessed all of them were a part of the Court of Owls. “I’m sorry, I don’t recognize you… the mask and all.”

“Ah… well I suppose that would be another reason.” Her hands then reached up and removed her mask, you did recognize her from your high school days, her name was Clara O’hare, and she was a friend of yours from the gardening club, one of the few things your father and siblings allowed you to participate in mostly because it was only active for such a short part of the year because of the harsh winter and autumn weather of Gotham. She was kind to you, she was one of the few people you would have called a close friend. If it was not for the given circumstances of your current reunion you would have run up to hug her, but instead, you were just left staring at her. She smiled at you and reached out, her free hand that did not hold her mask wrapped around you in a hug, a soft hum coming from her lips that rang in your ear. “It’s so good to see you, it’s been so long.”

“Are… are all of you like this from school?” You asked, your voice completely flat, no emotion showing despite the shock and terror in your veins, you were honestly terrified when you met Scarecrow but you covered it up, staying calm under stress was one of the first things you learned when you took to the streets of Gotham. You reached up and pushed away your once friend and you saw the look of betrayal on her face when you did not want her near you. “Everything was a lie, wasn’t it?”

“No! No, I would… I… I’m sorry…”

“You… I don’t know what I expected.” You shook your head and moved past her to sit down on the bed, your arms coming around you to hug yourself. She looked at you like she wanted to say something but she didn’t know what to say to you now in your current state. “I… I don’t want any of this… I…”

“I know this is probably a lot, but the Judge of Owls is-”

“Judge of Owls? You mean Gabriel?”

“Well, you are the only one who calls him by that name here.” She replied, walking over to you and sitting down next to you down on the bed, and reaching over to set a hand on your shoulder, her thumb stroking your fabric-covered skin in a way to show comfort. “The former Judge of Owls was his mother and now that she is… gone, your future husband is the new Judge-”

“I am not marrying him.” You snapped back at your former friend and you could see her recoil at your anger. “I am not marrying a psychopathic killer!” “Don’t talk like that… not in front of the others.” There was a sudden look of panic on her face at your words and she glanced around to make sure there was no one or nothing watching the two of you, maybe a camera or microphone in the room but perhaps Gabriel respected you too much to not spy on you in a private space but he would send some sort of assassin after you. “Look I know you are upset but there are other members here who would not take kindly to your words, and they are the type to try to kill you for it. Trust me the only allies you have here are me and our old classmates who have too much respect for you and while the Judg- Gabriel would never hurt you physically personally, I would not test his patience especially now.”

“What do you mean?”

“I thought you knew, I mean you were the one who warned the Judge about it.” You looked at Clara in confusion and she looked back at you with a similar expression just with a bit of concern. “The Court of Owls has come into conflict with the League of Assassins, as it seems the League has interfered with the purpose of the Court.”

You thought about Talia’s words, her original warning about danger brewing in Gotham, it was about whatever was about to go down between the Court of Owls and the League of Assassins for whatever reasons, the exact reason why was not something you knew yet, keyword yet, you would find out soon enough. Talia wanted you to get out of harm's way either because she cared, which you doubted, or because she knew you would try to interfere with whatever was going to happen. No doubt that Ra’s Al Ghul wanted you out of the way for the same reason so when his daughter failed at getting to go crawling back to your family, he lifted the veil just a little bit so you would get a peak to scare you away, somewhat of a messed up love language.

“I see… I was played.” You sighed, your eyes falling to the floor, the horrifying realization coming upon you. Your best guess was that in Ra’s Al Ghul’s philosophy, if you could call it that, to root out corruption all over the world by destroying things to build them back up, the man was a fanatic, to say the least. Gotham City was about to become ground zero for an all-out war. “God above… how many people are gonna die?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Sorry… personal thoughts…”

“Alright… I do have to ask, how did you come into contact with the League of Assassins?” Clara asked you and you felt yourself stiffen up because there was no good answer to that question. “I understand that you were- are Songbird and all, but you have been doing this sort of thing for only a few years and I didn’t take you for the type to get tangled up in their business.”

“It’s… it’s a really long story.” You did not have time to explain how your half brother, whose conception was a bit startling, was the grandson of the Demon’s Head, and how the said grandfather and his daughter were rather fond of you. “I have had a few fond encounters with members of the League of Assassins, or at least that is how they would portray it.”

“Well you certainly don’t have to worry about that now, you will be safe with us.” You internally rolled your eyes at that comment, you never needed to worry about the Leauge of Assassins, you suppose in the eyes of both the Court of Owls and in the Court of Owls harming you was extremely against the rules unless someone wished for their head to be separated from their body.

“I would call myself exactly safe when I was kidnapped to get here.” You stood up from the bed, your mind being able to piece things together in your mind. You remember that old rhyme your mother used to tell you when you asked about Gotham since you were born and raised for the first few years of your life outside of Gotham, Singapore is actually where your mother tried to raise you but sadly due to her business affairs she was brought back to Gotham and that was her biggest mistake…

Beware The Court of Owls, that watches all the time,ruling Gotham from a shadowed perch, behind granite and lime.

They watch you at your hearth,they watch you in your bed, speak not a whispered word of them, or they’ll send the Talon for your head.

Was that thing they sent after you called a Talon? It would make sense in the end since how bids like owls strike down and capture their prey is with their clawed talons. You had begun to pace the floor in your thoughts, asking yourself questions in your head like why that thing was so strong. You had fought trained assassins and other sorts of killers before but those things, that Talon’s, strength just made no logical sense if they were just human, but it could not be something like Bane’s venom since Henbane and Nettle had been working on shutting down any trade of the super steroid. It also could not be something like natural super abilities since you know what that sort of thing looks like firsthand.

You were not going to get any answers in here and you did not have a key to the locked door, but there was someone stuck in here with you who did.

“Sorry, my mind just went detective mode, force of habit.” You forced yourself to stop and smile at your former friend, coming to sit down next to her. You leaned over, resting your head on her shoulder as your hand rested on her opposite shoulder. “You know, I guess I was just startled by all this, those years of constant paranoia getting to me, just how the life of a vigilante is.”

“Oh, I figured, you were always so sweet back in school- HEY- mph!?” You did not waste another moment, your hand on her shoulder moving up so you wrapped your arm around her neck, your forearm pressing against her throat, and your other hand coming to cover her mouth out of habit even if the room was soundproofed. You squeezed down her throat, cutting off her flow of oxygen just so she passed out and her body fell limp.

“Sorry Clara, I do feel bad about this, but something else I picked up as Songbird is to keep your friends close and your enemies closer.” You quickly set her down and stood up and searched her body, found the skeleton key you were looking for, and grabbed her mask for safe measure, actually, you changed your mind last minute and set the mask back down, you did not want to even be associated with that cult of an organization. You rolled your eyes and walked towards the door leading out of the bedroom and you reached out with the key to unlock the door and…

Before you could even put the key in the lock you heard the door unlocking on the other side of the said door…

You froze up when you saw the door open to just reveal a masked Gabriel, you could hear him sigh fondly behind the mask and he reached up to remove it and you saw his gentle and smiling face. He glanced back at the bed where an unconscious Clara lay along with her mask, and then he just looked at you, shaking his head with another gentle sigh. “Always the detective and fighter, honestly if I did not love you so much I am sure the rest of Court would have tried to kill you years ago, don’t worry I’ll have someone take care of this disappointment, I was really hoping on of our old school friends would be able to calm you down, but alas it seems not.”

“Gabriel…”

“Hush now my dove, I was hoping to show you a few things.” He took your hand in his left hand and began pulling you down the hallway as his right hand placed the white owl mask back upon his face. “And it seems I should show you a few other more… rather unpleasant things in order to keep you in line.”

______________________

“This is the place she said to go,” Nettle spoke as he hopped off Clove’s bike, he had ridden along with her, his hands holding onto her waist before he got up. He looked around the empty garage, obviously unopened to the public for quite some time. “No one is here though, maybe they are late.”

“Or maybe you all are just blind.” A voice made everyone jump, even Foxflove and Henbane who were stepping out of the car Mr. Austen had made for them. They all turned to see a woman none of them had recognized, or at least never knew her secret identity, of course, they all would recognize Batwoman, or as you knew her, Kate Kane. She was standing by a door that led into an elevator which would normally be hidden by a false concrete slab, she gestured with a nod of her head to follow after her. “C’mon, everyone else is waiting upstairs.”

“Everyone?” Clove questioned, skittering after the red-haired woman into the elevator. Honestly, the comparison between the two women was so vast, Clove was the sweet and short type, her short and curly brown hair along with her round glasses gave her a doll-like appearance appearance, not exactly looking like a hero in the classic sense but she was definitely approachable to children and people who were scared and need a comforting face. Kate on the other hand was tall and muscular, absolutely towering over your small friend, her reputation as being rather stubborn and abrasive personality made her rather intimidating. “You mean like Red Hood, Nightwing, Batman…”

“Yes, I do.”

There were unsure expressions exchanged between your friends and teammates before they all followed suit after Clove and Batwoman. The elevator was the old type with the iron bar-like door that closed when the elevator began going up and everyone stood in an awkward and nervous silence. The doors finally opened after perhaps a minute or two of going up in the elevator did they finally reached their destination, they could see through the iron bars of the door, everyone was gathered there. Some of them they had worked with on occasion but that was only Nettle and Foxglove really who had encountered Red Robin or Orphan during a case and they put their combined forces together. There was a red-haired woman in a wheelchair who you would know as Barbara Gordon, but your team recognized her voice as Oracle, the one who hacked into their comm lines.

“Good to see you all made it in one piece, it’s nice to actually meet you all in person,” Oracle spoke to your friends, turning her wheelchair around from her desk to face all of them. There was a scoff heard from under the helmet of Red Hood and the red-haired woman glanced up at him with an annoyed expression. “Look I know you don’t want to work with them but they are the only ones who have had constant contact with her for the last four years.”

“Ya, we have lived with her for a while so I would say we know her pretty well, Clove especially,” Henbane spoke up, patting the young woman on the back. “Those two have gone on more missions together than anyone else on our team.”

“Or so I have heard.” Damian, or rather Robin spoke up, recalling your bathtub conversation with him and the mention of the burn scars from your fight with Firefly and Killer Moth along when she threatened to shoot your father when she felt you were threatened. He looked her up and down with a judgemental eye. “You do not look like much.”

“Clove can kick any of our asses in training, the only person who holds a candle to her skill is your sister.” Foxglove praised, patting the younger woman on the head. “But all that aside I am guessing you know why she went missing?”

“Yes, approximately nine hours ago my daughter was kidnapped on top of the Novick Building and I suppose you all know the same given you were found there when Oracle contacted you all, correct?” Your father, or rather Bruce Wayne spoke up, questioning all of your friends and they exchanged glances before Nettle spoke up.

“Well um… yes and no, we got an emergency signal from her around nine hours ago as well but we do not know what happened to her but before that, we did not have any contact with her for about a day, day and a half prior.

“That is because she returned to the manor after being given these photos.” Red Robin leaned over Oracle’s desk setting and slid over a file and zoomed in, a display of the photos of Gabriel you were given by Ra’s Al Ghul. Stunned expressions came across all of your friends’ faces, Nettle and Foxglove even looked horrified and Clove and Henbane looked like they were going to be sick to their stomachs. Then he clicked on something else, pulling up the security camera footage of your kidnapping by the masked assassin. “Her former fiance is a member of the Court of Owls, a group that most Gotham, including us, thought was just an urban legend. So given recent events there is a high probability that she was kidnapped by the Court of Owls and if it was not them then Damian, Robin, thinks there is a low chance it could have been the Leauge of Assassins since they have been active in the city as of late, but again the ladder is unlikely.”

“Alright, fine but if we help you there are a few things that we require,” Foxglove replied, stepping up and breaking their own stunned silence. “First of all if you hack into our systems, we get access to yours.”

“Easy enough.”

“Second, we get our benefactor on board, I am sure you know of Mr. Mark Austen, yes?”

“Our companies have worked together on a project or two, he is an acceptable partner.”

“Thirdly, once we find her, she does not go back to Wayne Manor unless she wants to, if she is injured she can go to a hospital or be brought to Austen Indestries’ medical lab. She can be safe living the life she wants.” There was clear tension in the room at Foxglove’s final requirement and a groan from Red Hood who was the most visibly upset about this, especially with this final requirement.

“Told you we should not have brought them in on this.”

“Well to be totally honest with you, we don’t want to work with you either,” Foxglove replied, shrugging at your older brother’s irritated comment. “But you don’t have a choice, the difference between us is you all won’t die because you want to see her out of there, but we have nothing to live for besides each other, so we would die to get her out. Your choice, but if you really need out help than you don’t have much of one here.”

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elmushterri · 11 months ago

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Omg I just read the ao3 of gunntech I love it sm🤍 and I'm so glad the speedy twins are in the au. But now I'm curious about it, is taking care of and repairing the vehicles their only job or do they also do other things? And since their also teens did they grow up at gunntech like the others? Or are they just, like, illegal aliens gunntech kidnapped somehow😭😅 and, if u can, I really wanna know what they look like here (I wanna make fanart of them)

The speedy twins are a bit hard to decide about, buuut, I’m thinking they’re normal human kids who were mutated without the use of a chest implant, rather a different trial (happening at the same time as the main heroes and villains, if a little later/so they’re a bit younger?) that involved just changing the genes by themselves without an activation switch needed. The way I pseudo-sciency nonsense it is:

In biology, (A-Level Qualifications) when you’re editing genes, to see if the ones you wanted are activated, scientists attach a marker. Commonly, this marker is a glow-in-the-dark gene they got from a sea creature. So, once, they were modifying rats with something and to see if it worked, they attached the glow in the dark gene TO it. If the gene they wanted got activated, the rats would glow AS WELL. Just visual confirmation basically.

So, to see if adding ‘speed’ to these children would work, they used the marker of the colour blue. Bright blue is GunnTech’s “speed” colour, as can be seen with Catboy (though that’s just his suit, it’s an aesthetic thing)

And that’s why they’re blue! To show “The ‘Speed genes’ worked.”

The red is just face paint and the black and pink hair is dye.

And as for their jobs, I think they’re mainly in the driving field. The main 3 can each drive their own vehicles, as you see in the fanfic, Owlette is adept at Air Traffic Control Communication, but Carly and Cartoka are probably somehow neurologically enhanced to take to vehicles like nobody in the world. Fast learners, no pun intended!

#pj masks #gunntech au #ama #fanart #digitalart #myart #pjmasks #Carly and cartoka #pj masks Carly #pj masks cartoka

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multiheadcanons · 4 months ago

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TF2 MERCS AND FAMILY

scout: he loves his ma. he loves his ma so much if you even think about thinking about making a your mom joke he is genuinely on the verge of losing his shit. his ma is not a joke. she was a wonderful lady who did the best she could at all times and everyone better respect it before he respectfully shoves his foot so far up their asses they’ll be tasting his toes until christmas. he didn’t know his dad, so he doesn’t care. insult the fact he doesn’t have a dad all you want. but keep his ma’s name out your fuckin mouth. i know people like to think he’s got brothers, frankly i think he’s got cousins. all boys, from his ma’s side. about four of them. the genes are very strong on his ma’s side, so they look like they could be brothers. they were hellions. couple of them have chilled out at this point, and scout respects them for it. even if it is weird with them being dads and shit. couple of them haven’t, and he respects that too. at least they didn’t bother to lie about it.

soldier: soldier had decent parents. his dad was a drunk, and was pretty emotionally distant, but as far as he knows was never a mean or violent person. his mom was a nice old lady. no nonsense, no coddling. she was a woman with a good head on her shoulders surrounded by fools. they had both passed by the time he took the job in teufort. he misses them sometimes, but he’s glad his parents are able to rest. comforted snipes when he heard about his parents. he knows snipes really loved them. only child; his parents had fertility issues and didn’t try again after they succeeded with him. they just didn’t have the heart for it. he sees the team as his brothers. he fights with those guys (and pyro), sometimes he actively fights those guys (and pyro), and frankly is that not what brothers do?

pyro: pyro doesn’t really remember their mom or dad, but they remember their older sister! about twelve years older than them, they did most of the parenting. it wasn’t good parenting, and they argued and physically fought a lot with their sister, but as pyro grew up pyro came to understand that their parents… probably weren’t good people if their sister had to raise them. they don’t know where their sister is, but they did take the time to locate their parents, with the support of the team behind them, helping lead the charge. it was a disheartening, frankly frightening experience to see them withering away in a nursing home, but they barely knew them. they don’t know why it aches so much. they don’t know why they’re so scared. they see the team as their family. those are the people who have shown pyro they will always be there. they don’t think the team would just leave them somewhere to die. the team loves them for who they are. and they love the team. most of the team. no, no, all of the team, all of them. they just love some of them more than others.

demo: demo’s dad passed about a decade before he took the job. a jolly man. a drunk. easygoing. down for anything. demo realized after he passed he was the one who kept his mom from imploding with neuroticism. but he loves his mom. the firecracker she is. he remembers her when he was really young. she was a woman who was simply always on the ball. intelligent, creative, brutal. a giantess of a woman, though she stands five feet two. they’re on good terms as long as he’s got a job. most of the degroots are chemists of the explosive subvariety; few made it to retirement. so he cherishes his mom. he’s glad to have her around. he had a lover at one point. genevieve. a wild woman, sporadic in her time in his life and explosive when she was in it. she brought life into him, more than he thought he could contain. any day with her was a total mindset shift for tavish. quite a few years his senior; one of the brightest chemists he grew to know in his higher educational, perhaps his professional life in general. a flame he could not stay away from. she was magnetic. she passed at 30, cutting their budding romance short. breast cancer. he couldn’t make it to her hometown to attend the funeral. he sent flowers to the next of kin. it floored him. he didn’t know how she would go, but he never thought it would be from something so mundane. thinks of her often.

heavy: heavy loved his dad, he supposes. very quiet man. it was hard when he passed. it was hard being the only man in a sudden matriarchy. and in a way, he was almost blinded. he didn’t see how well his mother actually had a handle on things as he grew to fill his father’s role. so as he matured, and took the job in teufort, he was constantly worried about them. he loves his mother. he honors his mother, prays the lord blesses her every step so she may leave nothing but life and light in her wake. he will actually fucking kill you if you even speak about his mother without his express permission. and his sisters… god help them. it has taken him a very long time to accept his sisters’ absolute abysmal tastes in men. he can’t even think about it he starts to gag. he loves his niece and nephew though.

engineer: engie comes from a big family of bright and creative minds. his mama had her masters in music theory, his dad had been an engineer, as his father before him, as his father before him. middle child of four. two boys, two girls. his younger brother became a hotshot doctor, his baby sister’s a vet; his older sister does underwater welding, and family reunions are hell to plan. he’s very proud of the family he comes from. he just wishes he wasn’t the one who got roped into the mann business. but he wouldn’t wish this on his siblings either. the siblings do a conference call every couple of months to make sure everyone’s still alive. they last maybe 30 minutes before someone is called away. his mom passed about three years into the job, and they cremated her because nobody could get the time to go to the funeral. their father followed shortly after; which they understood. he wasn’t the same man without her around.

medic: medic has been surrounded by intelligent, wild, wonderful women his entire life. he is the result of a teenage pregnancy, and he is his moms best friend. she had him when she was 16. with all credit to the man, his father did stick around. he struggled for them. but they did pretty okay as medic grew up. normally went with his mom to university and was cooed over. his dad died when he was 16 from a work accident. it rocked the home. he and his mother leaned on each other heavily in the grief, and he entered adulthood with a dear friend instead of a mother. but that’s okay, because he truly needed that. he loves his mother to death. and she is very proud of her son. she’s a zany woman, with a wild imagination. fully aware of what her son has become, and is simply happy that he found a place for himself that treats him well and isn’t jail. they call each other all the time to chat, and normally will entirely halt what they’re doing to spend time with each other. heavy’s met the woman. they have the same smile. he married his childhood best friend young. another pathologically high spirited, highly gifted woman. a chemist. genevieve. something about it never felt right (he’s gay.) but nobody could deny he loved that woman with every fiber of his being that he could spare. they were two peas in a pod. you couldn’t see one without seeing the other. the first person he came out to. she passed at 30. breast cancer. it destroyed him. he didn’t think he would survive to find someone he truly loved like her. keeps their wedding photo in his wallet.

snipes: oh man. ohhhhh man. do we have to go into it. he loves his stepparents so much. he loves them so much it hurts. he just wants to do right by them. the idea he’s failing them or has failed them or will fail them genuinely eats away at his soul. he knew he wasn’t gonna have long with them, that they were on the older side when he fell into their lap, and he was grateful for every moment he got with them. it wrecked him when they passed. and nobody was there to comfort him through it. as far as he knew, nobody tried to reach out. his real parents can get fucked though. he doesn’t hate them, but he does wish he didn’t spend so much time thinking about them either.

spy: youngest of two sons. came from a decent home. both parents were hard working and supportive. he and his brother were just brutes. they argued all the time, and his parents didn’t know how to even begin pacifying them both. his mother was a schoolteacher, and his father did paperwork for a nearby firm. they were fine, honorable jobs. made enough to live comfortably. it just wasn’t enough for him. for either of them. it wasn’t enough for one of them alone. his parents passed shortly after he reached adulthood, and he hasn’t spoken to his brother since the funeral. in a way, the team is his family. he has nothing left to go back to, that he knows of. he wouldn’t know who else to even turn to if he needed some backup muscle, or a medication, or a differing perspective, or a soundboard, or entertainment, or company, or support. the team has taken care of him, and in a way loved him, truly, for years. even if they weren’t explicitly in the room, they’ve seen him at his absolute worst. they’ve seen him at his absolute best! and stayed. and even if they don’t think it’s true, spy would be there for them if they needed him.

#team fortress 2 #team fortress two #tf2 medic #tf2 scout #tf2 sniper #tf2 spy #tf2 demo #tf2 demoman #tf2 engineer #tf2 heavy #tf2 pyro #tf2 #tf2 soldier #felt like i should acknowledge medic’s canonical wife #and the semi-canonical affair demo had with her #idk if that was canonical or a widely accepted theory #but now she’s dead so #it’s fine he’s fine they’re fine #thanks for appreciating my hcs if you got this far!

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xiaotuzu · 8 months ago

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am I..a bkdk shipper? Yes. Now here’s some headcanons cuz fuck the hyper fixation is crazy right now.

BKDK HEADCANONS

Izuku definitely steals the blanket while Katsuki hogs the bed.

Katsuki probably worked in a barber shop (because he was def the type to be like “not my money but my parents’ money”, so he made some of his own) OR learned how to do a bit of hair from Best Jeanist— Izuku’s hair grows really fast, so Katsuki will always be the one to trim it and make up an excuse like “You seriously gonna pay that much money for a fucking trim?”

Their typical dates isn’t everyone’s ‘typical dates’— they totally prefer extreme sports or like physical activities as dates.

Izuku sleeps late but wakes up early and can survive with only 3-4hrs of sleep. Katsuki sleeps early but doesn’t wake up as early because he needs exactly 8hrs to even 10hrs of sleep.

Izuku can’t style himself FOR SHIT. So Katsuki’s always picking clothes out for him.

They can both cook and either take turns cooking for each other or cook together. Katsuki would make Izuku cut the vegetables while he seasons the meat.

Izuku is amazing at baking and Katsuki is lowkey a sweet tooth.

Katsuki has like amplified and enhanced taste buds (LITERALLY CANON IM PRE SURE) and can literally taste when there’s something missing. Izuku’s cooking can sometimes come out bland but he always makes sure Katsuki is taste testing.

Katsuki’s high spice tolerance is slowly rubbing off on Izuku to the point that he’s the only one that can keep up with Katsuki. He even catches himself lowkey craving something spicy (honestly so real cuz like me too).

Katsuki is a neat freak which means his quite minimalistic but the his decor is exquisite. Izuku is a chaotic neat freak which means his got so many stuff (AM merch…) but they’re all properly organised and cleaned.

LITERALLY KATSUKI’S PARENTS DYNAMIC.

They can’t flirt for shit— yes I’m all for Izuku’s sassiness but I just know he can’t with Katsuki. And vice versa. So their flirting consists of eye contacts and awkward laughs/smiles. (“OMG HE MADE EYE CONTACT WITH ME FOR 5 SECONDS. DOES THAT MEAN HE’S ASKING ME OUT?!”— Izuku, probably) (“He smiled at me. Fuck, what do I do?!”— Katsuki, probably)

Izuku’s a freak, I just know. Not like freak~, as in FREEAAK. He def read some Y/N x reader fanfics…and Katsuki lowkey indulged in some ship fanfics too. Izuku definitely wrote some and Katsuki may or may not have read them without knowing (I READ A FIC ABOUT THIS BEFORE).

Katsuki has a 10 step skincare routine (despite having amazing skin genes) whereas Izuku just splashes his face with cold water and calls it a day.

Spa night in Katsuki’s room surely (the girls definitely included obviously).

Katsuki is so act of service and gifts and Izuku is so words of affirmation and physical touch. Both are quality time.

Hardcore gossipers. Both so nosy as fuck honestly (def gossips about the Todoroki Fam Drama 😭)

Katsuki texts with long paragraphs and Izuku sends individual texts.

Izuku is an avid emoticon user and Katsuki uses emojis.

Izuku’s an android user and Katsuki’s an apple user.

…And I think that’s it! (for now…) I definitely have more stored up in my brain but it hasn’t seeped into yet.

#mha #my hero academia #bkdk #bakudeku #bakugou katsuki #izuku midoriya #bhna #dkbk #katsudeku #headcanon #mha bkdk #mha dkbk

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benispunk · 4 months ago

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Who's That Girl?

Chapter 18: More Than Roommates

Wade is getting tired of this slow-burn. It's his time to shine now. Or, Logan learns the truth about the center's rescue.

logan howlett x reader

TW: language, D&W.

A/N: hellooo!! chapter 18 is up (wtffffff???? already!!!!!) and I would say things ARE FINALLY interesting.....but are they really?? I was giggling by myself writing it...and there's still THREE chapters left. I don't want to let this story gooooo...hope you enjoy this chapter!🩷

→ this fic is inspired by the TV Show New Girl, Wade and Logan aren't Deadpool and Wolverine (no powers/mutant gene etc) but I did take most of their character traits and storyline!!

Masterlist /Previous Part / Next Part

Logan’s first few weeks at the high school had been a mix of chaos and… cautious optimism. Everything felt new. The routine was unfamiliar, the building was different, the people were different, and numerous. This wasn’t the cosy place they had nurtured for years in an old building in the middle of the city, no…This was so much bigger. So much more serious. Logan felt like a fraud every time he put a foot inside the school. He was no teacher. He wasn’t like Hank or Ororo who had dedicated their life to this. He barely passed high school before he joined the army—not because he wasn’t good, hell he wasn’t dumb—life just had a way of pulling him down until he couldn’t stand on his own two legs.

So, when he left the army and he was jobless, barely homeless, and most importantly hopeless, the center’s job ad for maintenance staff was a godsend. He didn't really care at first. He was just there to maintain the building and fix broken things when there were any. He was always there. He didn't give a damn about anything, he just did his job, was nice to the people at the center and left it at that. But the kids started to like him. At first, he pretended to push them away. But he knew these kids were there for a reason: nobody out there wanted to help them. A bit like him in the end, he thought. After this, Charles asked if he could keep an eye on some classes when the teachers needed to go somewhere for a few minutes. And oh boy, Logan didn’t joke around.

After a few months of juggling between being the center’s janitor and the kids’ babysitter, Charles came to him and asked if he wanted to be a little bit more than that.

He hadn’t opened a school book in decades. His immediate answer was no. But Charles being Charles, he won. He always fucking did. For a year, Logan followed evening and online classes to become a teacher in the center. He’s still laughing about it today.

So, yes. Everything was new. And way too official. But some things remained the same—his students. They were still the bright, resilient kids he’d fought so hard for back at the center.

It wasn’t without challenges. Some struggled with the rigidity of the high school’s structure, missing the familiarity and intimacy of the center. Logan had calmed more than a few meltdowns, but he met every obstacle head-on with the patience and determination that had carried him this far. For every tough moment, there was a victory—small, but significant.

The quiet student who finally raised their hand in class. The one who cracked their first smile in weeks. The team effort during a group activity that ended with laughter instead of frustration.

They’re still here, he reminded himself often, a quiet mantra that kept him going. The center might be gone, but the heart of what they’d built wasn’t lost. His kids were still thriving, and somehow, so was he.

And then, there was Y/N.

Logan caught himself watching her more often than he wanted to admit. Whether it was during a quick coffee run in the teachers’ lounge or when she breezed past him in the hallway, her presence had a way of grounding him. She carried herself with a quiet confidence, her easy rapport with both colleagues and students reminding him why he’d been drawn to her in the first place.

It was becoming too hard to keep in check. She was everywhere. At home, at work. In his every thought…

So, it wasn’t always grounding. Not when he spotted her laughing with Tony near the science labs one afternoon.

From his vantage point, leaning against the wall with Ororo, they looked like they were sharing the kind of joke that left you breathless. Y/N tilted her head back, her laughter ringing out, and Tony, ever the charmer, leaned in with a grin that practically lit up the hallway. Logan tried not to let it bother him, but the twist in his gut told another story.

“Is this going to be a thing now?” Ororo’s voice cut through his thoughts, laced with a mix of amusement and exasperation.

Logan grunted, keeping his eyes fixed ahead. “What are you talking about?”

She smirked, leaning slightly into his space to whisper. “The brooding. You do realize Tony is married, right?”

Logan turned to her, caught off guard. “What?”

“Married,” Ororo repeated, clearly enjoying the moment. “Happily, too. And he’s got a kid. Adorable little guy—spitting image of his dad.”

Logan blinked, torn between disbelief and a sudden rush of relief he wasn’t ready to acknowledge. “Why are you even telling me this?” he muttered, attempting a nonchalant shrug. “I don’t care what Tony does.”

Ororo raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “Sure you don’t,” she said, her tone teasing but not unkind. “But I figured it might save you some unnecessary brooding.”

Before Logan could respond, she sauntered off to her next class, leaving him grumbling under his breath and feeling more transparent than he cared to admit.

Later, Logan found himself in the teachers’ lounge, nursing a coffee as he unwound after a long day. Natasha and Tony were seated across the room, deep in conversation about some elaborate project Tony was planning for his engineering students.

“You know, Pepper keeps telling me to stop using the house as a test lab,” Tony said with a chuckle. “But hey, Peter loves it. He’s always asking me to teach him this or that.”

Logan’s ears perked up at the mention of a name. “Peter?” he asked, his tone casual, though he wasn’t fooling anyone. “That your kid?”

Tony turned to him, his grin widening. “Yeah, my son. He’s got my brains, poor kid, and his mom’s everything else, thank god.” He laughed warmly, clearly proud.

Natasha, sipping her coffee, raised an eyebrow at Logan over the rim of her mug, a smirk tugging at her lips. If Logan noticed, he didn’t let on.

“Didn’t know you had a family,” Logan said, keeping his voice neutral.

“Yup,” Tony said, pulling out his phone. “That’s Pepper and Peter. My world right there.” He handed the phone over, showing Logan a photo of a beautiful woman and a young boy with Tony’s unmistakable features. All three of them were mid-laugh, their faces glowing with joy.

Logan nodded, his grip on the phone tightening briefly before handing it back. “Nice picture.”

“Thanks,” Tony said, pocketing the phone. “I don’t wear a ring, though. Can’t keep track of them—lost my first one in the ocean, the second at a barbecue. Pepper just rolls her eyes at me now.”

Natasha snorted softly behind her mug, her gaze flicking between the two men. “That’s one way to keep people guessing,” she said, her tone light but knowing.

Tony grinned. “Hey, keeps things interesting.”

As Tony returned to his conversation with Natasha, Logan leaned back in his chair, sipping his coffee. The jealousy that had clung to him for weeks seemed to evaporate, leaving behind a quiet sense of clarity.

Maybe, just maybe, there was no reason to worry after all.

———

The apartment buzzed with the easy rhythm of a friendly dinner. Y/N, Logan and Wade had opened their home to their colleagues from the school for a casual evening—a mix of food, drinks, and laughter that made the small space feel warm and alive. It wasn’t extravagant, but it didn’t need to be. This was exactly the kind of night Y/N loved: simple, genuine, and surrounded by people who felt like family.

From his seat near the window, Logan watched the scene unfold. He didn’t say much, but he didn’t need to. The sound of conversation flowed around him, and he let it wash over him like a tide. But even if he tried to ignore it, his gaze kept drifting back to Y/N, like a magnet he couldn’t resist. She was everywhere at once—chatting with Natasha, laughing at something Tony said, checking on the food Wade had sworn he’d handle.

She made it look so effortless, but Logan knew better. He could see the little tells: the way she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear when she felt overwhelmed, the quick glances she sent toward him or Wade when she needed help. It made his chest tighten in a way that was both unsettling and oddly comforting.

How does she do it? he wondered. How does she make everyone feel like they belong?

Across the room, Y/N caught his eye for the briefest moment before quickly looking away. A flicker of something unreadable crossed her face, but it was gone so fast he wasn’t sure if he’d imagined it.

Wade, passing by with a drink, noticed Logan’s lingering gaze. “Subtle,” he muttered, smirking.

Logan scowled and took another sip of his beer. “Shut up.”

The evening had settled into an easy rhythm when the conversation shifted, almost inevitably, to the old center where Logan had worked.

“I still can’t believe it had to close,” Natasha said, leaning back in her chair. “It was such an important place for those kids.”

Y/N froze mid-bite, her grip tightening on the fork in her hand. She hadn’t expected this to come up, not tonight. Her heart thudded in her chest, and she quickly looked down, pretending to pick at her plate.

“It’s a shame,” Scott added, his tone sincere. “But it’s a good place we have now. Right, Logan?”

Logan nodded, his expression thoughtful. “Yeah, it’s a good place,” he said, his voice soft. “I think it’s what they needed. It’s…a new beginning.”

Y/N’s stomach twisted at his words. She felt the weight of what they didn’t know—what he didn’t know. She’d done everything she could to keep it that way, to make sure it wasn’t about her.

And then Wade opened his mouth.

“You know,” Wade interrupted, his grin practically announcing trouble, “there’s someone here who doesn’t get enough credit for all that.”

Y/N froze. Her heart lurched in her chest, her grip tightening around the edge of the table. She knew where this was going. She turned towards him, her hold on her fork tightening.

Wade ignored her entirely. “Come on, Y/N,” he said, leaning back with a smug look. “You’re the reason the kids ended up at the school in the first place. You fought for them when no one else would. Hell, Charles barely had to do anything. She practically forced him to make it happen.”

The room went silent. Every head turned to Y/N, who felt like she’d been caught in a spotlight. Her cheeks burned as the weight of their gazes settled on her.

Logan’s brows furrowed. “What is he talking about?”

“I swear, Wade,” she hissed, glaring at him.

“What?” Wade said with exaggerated innocence. “You deserve the credit. Why keep it a secret?”

Logan’s gaze snapped to Y/N, his voice quieter now as he repeated his question. “What is he talking about?”

She opened her mouth, but no words came out. Her heart pounded as she looked down at her hands, unable to meet his eyes. “I… I just wanted to help,” she finally mumbled.

Jean’s eyes widened as the pieces clicked into place. “You’re the reason the school took the center?” she asked, her voice thick with emotion.

Y/N gave a small nod, not trusting herself to speak.

Ororo was on her feet in seconds, pulling Y/N into a tight hug. “You saved them,” she said, her voice trembling. “You saved our kids.”

Scott joined in, his usual stoicism cracking under the weight of his gratitude. “You didn’t just save them. You saved us. That center—it was our home too.”

Jean hugged her next, her voice soft but full of meaning. “You gave them—and us—a future. Thank you.”

Y/N blinked rapidly, her vision blurring as she tried to keep herself together. She wasn’t used to this kind of attention, and it felt overwhelming. “It wasn’t just me,” she said quickly, her voice shaking. “It’s mostly Charles.”

“Don’t downplay it,” Ororo said firmly, squeezing her shoulder.

Natasha, leaning back with her cup of coffee, smirked knowingly but said nothing. She’d known this was coming and had been waiting to see how it would play out.

Y/N’s own colleagues looked equally stunned. Tony was the first to speak, raising his glass. “To Y/N,” he said, his voice steady. “The unsung hero.”

“To Y/N!” Clint echoed, grinning.

The room filled with cheers and clinking glasses, but Y/N could barely process it. Her cheeks burned, her throat tight with emotion. She felt a mix of embarrassment, gratitude, and something else she couldn’t quite name.

And Logan…

She was going to kill Wade.

Logan was still staring at her, his beer forgotten on the table. Something shifted in his chest, something he hadn’t been ready to confront. She had done all of this. She had saved the center. His home.

Y/N, still overwhelmed by the attention, avoided Logan’s gaze at all costs. She didn’t think she could handle what she might see there.

But he wasn’t looking away. And as he watched her fidget under the weight of everyone’s praise, he knew two things for sure:

She didn’t just light up the room. She carried it.

And he was absolutely, hopelessly, head over heels for her.

———

As the last of their guests filed out, the apartment settled into an unusual stillness. The echo of laughter and clinking glasses faded into the soft click of the closing door. Y/N lingered there, a warm smile and a few parting words of thanks on her lips as the final guest disappeared down the hall.

Her posture seemed relaxed, casual even, but Logan could see the faint tension in her shoulders, the way her fingers fidgeted with the edge of her shirt, and the almost unconscious habit of tucking her hair behind her ear. It was a tell he’d come to recognize—a sign that something was swirling beneath the surface.

From the kitchen, Wade busied himself with what could barely pass as tidying up. He clinked glasses together with unnecessary force, muttering exaggerated commentary under his breath, clearly more interested in the unfolding drama than cleaning. He knew he was in trouble. Did he care though? Absolutely fucking not. Logan, standing by the couch, barely registered Wade’s antics. His thoughts were elsewhere, tangled and sharp.

The truth of what Y/N had done had hit him harder than he’d expected.

As the door clicked shut behind the final guest, Y/N hesitated, her hand lingering on the doorknob. For a moment, she stood there, her back to the room, as though steadying herself. When she finally turned around, her gaze met Logan’s.

He stood just a few feet away, still as stone. His expression, usually so guarded, was raw with something she couldn’t quite name—uncertainty, gratitude, maybe even awe.

“So…” he began, his voice rough and hesitant, “you’re the miracle?”

Her cheeks flushed a deep crimson at the words. She laughed softly, a nervous sound, and tucked another strand of hair behind her ear. “I don’t know about that,” she mumbled, her voice quiet. “I just… wanted to help.”

Logan’s jaw tightened, his brow furrowing as he struggled to put everything he was feeling into words. Her humility, her quiet determination, the way she seemed to take the weight of the world on her shoulders without asking for anything in return—it made his chest ache.

“You didn’t have to do it,” he said finally, his voice low and steady. “No one asked you to. But you did.” He paused, the next words sticking in his throat before he forced them out. “And I—” He stopped again, running a hand through his hair as he exhaled heavily. “Thank you.”

The sincerity in his voice made her breath hitch. Her lips curved into a shy, uncertain smile. “You’re welcome,” she said softly, her voice barely audible.

A heavy silence settled between them, filled with all the words left unsaid. Logan shifted on his feet, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. For a moment, it seemed like he might turn away, might let the moment pass.

Then, without warning, he stepped forward and pulled her into his arms.

Y/N froze, startled by the sudden gesture, her breath catching in her throat. But the embrace wasn’t rushed or awkward. It was warm, grounding, and spoke of everything Logan couldn’t seem to say aloud. Slowly, she relaxed, her arms coming up to wrap around him in return.

For a few moments, they stood there, the world around them shrinking until it was just the two of them. Logan’s grip was firm but gentle, his face pressed into her hair as he exhaled deeply. Y/N closed her eyes, her heart pounding in her chest as she let herself lean into him.

And for the first time, she let herself admit what she’d been so determined to ignore: Logan wasn’t just her friend or her roommate. He was something far more dangerous. He was the one who made her feel seen, safe, and alive in a way that no one else ever had.

Her feelings for him weren’t some fleeting crush or admiration. They were rooted deep, growing quietly until now, when the weight of his gratitude and the warmth of his embrace cracked open the walls she’d been so carefully keeping in place.

It wasn’t just the way he made her feel safe—it was how he carried so much of his own pain, his own battles, and still found space to be there for others. For her. Logan didn’t just share her world; he anchored it, even when he was struggling to stay afloat himself.

She loved him. And there was no pretending otherwise anymore.

In the kitchen, Wade rummaged loudly through a drawer, the clatter of utensils deliberately exaggerated. “Just looking for the… uh… thing,” he called out, his voice laced with amusement.

Logan pulled back slightly, shooting a glare in Wade’s direction. “Go to bed,” he muttered, his voice gruff.

Wade smirked, unbothered. “Sure thing, miracle man. Don’t let me interrupt.” With a mock salute, he disappeared into his room, the sound of his laughter trailing after him.

Y/N’s cheeks burned, but she didn’t move. Her hands still rested lightly on Logan’s sides, and his gaze remained fixed on her.

“Sorry,” Logan murmured, his voice softer now. “I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s okay,” she interrupted, a small, genuine smile breaking through her shyness. “I didn’t mind.”

His lips twitched into something close to a smile, but the emotion in his eyes—the gratitude, the affection, the unspoken promise—spoke louder than any words could.

And Y/N knew, with startling clarity, that her feelings for him weren’t something she could keep burying.

———

The apartment had finally settled into silence, Y/N had long since bid them goodnight, retreating to her room after the whirlwind of the evening. Her door had closed with the softest of clicks, but Logan could still hear her voice in his mind—the nervous quiver when she’d admitted what she’d done, the sincerity in her words, the vulnerability in her smile.

Now he stood on the balcony, the cool night air nipping at his skin. The cigarette in his hand burned low, more ash than anything else. He wasn’t smoking it for the habit—he barely noticed it was there. His fingers toyed with it absently, his focus lost somewhere in the city lights sprawled out before him.

The view wasn’t much, just rows of buildings and the faint hum of late-night traffic. Yet tonight, it felt infinite, a reflection of the mess swirling in his head. Y/N had done so much—more than he’d ever dared to ask of anyone—and she’d done it without hesitation. For him. For his students. The weight of it settled heavily in his chest.

The soft slide of the balcony door broke through his thoughts. Logan didn’t turn, already knowing who it was. Wade stepped out, a slice of pizza in hand, the door clicking shut behind him.

For a while, neither of them spoke. Wade leaned against the railing beside Logan, the faint scent of pepperoni wafting between them. He took a massive, obnoxious bite of his pizza, chewing with exaggerated fervor. The silence stretched, heavy but companionable, until Wade inevitably broke it.

“So…” he began, his voice carrying that familiar tone of mischief and expectation.

Logan didn’t look at him. He exhaled through his nose, his shoulders easing slightly. “I think I’m in love with her.”

The words came out quieter than he expected, but there was no taking them back. They hung in the air, raw and exposed.

Wade froze mid-bite, his eyes widening as if Logan had just confessed to committing a crime. A beat later, he choked violently, pizza crumbs flying as he slapped his chest with one hand, wheezing dramatically.

Logan didn’t so much as glance at him, his gaze fixed on the city beyond.

When Wade finally recovered, wiping at his mouth with exaggerated flair, he turned to Logan with a look of mock betrayal. “You—you couldn’t have warned me first? I almost died!”

Logan shrugged, his face unreadable.

“Oh no, you don’t get to shrug this off,” Wade said, pointing an accusing finger at him. “You just dropped the L-bomb like it’s nothing and nearly sent me to the great beyond in the process.”

Logan raised an eyebrow. “The L-bomb?”

“Love, brooding one! Love!” Wade gestured wildly with his pizza, his grin spreading wider. “This is monumental! My Super Bowl, my World Cup, my Oscars all rolled into one. I feel like I should give a speech or something.”

Logan rolled his eyes, but Wade wasn’t deterred.

“Let me tell you,” Wade continued, pacing the small balcony like a coach delivering a halftime pep talk. “You and Y/N? Adorable. The slow burn? Chef’s kiss. But come on, man, we’ve all been rooting for you two forever.”

Logan shot him a glare, but it lacked its usual bite.

“And don’t think for a second that I’m not already planning your wedding,” Wade added, tapping a finger to his temple. “I’m picturing it now—rustic theme, maybe some wildflowers, and me as the best man, obviously.”

“Wade,” Logan warned, his voice low.

“What? You think I’d make a terrible best man? I’ll have you know, I—”

“Wade,” Logan repeated, turning to fix him with a look that might’ve scared off most people.

Not Wade.

“Okay, okay,” Wade said, raising his hands in mock surrender. “I’ll stop. For now. But seriously, man.” His voice softened, the humor giving way to something more sincere. “Don’t mess this up. She’s special. You know that.”

Logan sighed, leaning against the railing as he turned back to the horizon. “Yeah,” he murmured, almost to himself. “I know.”

For a moment, Wade was silent, watching Logan with an expression that bordered on fondness. Then he clapped him on the shoulder, a little harder than necessary.

“Well, good talk,” he said, his grin returning full force. “I’ll leave you to your brooding. Don’t forget to invite me to the baby shower.”

Logan groaned, rubbing his temples as Wade slid the door open and disappeared back inside, humming a tuneless song under his breath.

Alone again, Logan let the quiet settle over him. He stared out at the city, the distant lights blurring as his mind wandered back to Y/N. Wade was right about one thing—she was special. And Logan knew, in the quiet honesty of this moment, that he couldn’t imagine a world without her in it.

He didn’t know where this was going, didn’t know how to put everything he felt into words. But he was certain of one thing: he wanted to figure it out—with her.

And, oh, how scary that thought was.

XXX

#fanfiction #fandom #ao3 #logan howlett x reader #deadpool and wolverine #marvel cinematic universe #logan howlett #wolverine x reader #logan howlett x you #logan howlett imagine #xmen fanfiction #xmen x reader #wade wilson #deadpool 3 #deadpool movies #deadpool #fanfic #wolverine fanfiction #deadpool fanfiction

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taleeater · 1 year ago

Text

Fragile Part 5

Another fluff chapter! Gonna be getting to the juicy angst after this 👀✨

Generation: Bayverse TMNT

Tmnt x Reader Fanfic

Pronouns: Gender Neutral (except ‘dudette’ and ‘princess’)

Warnings: wholesome, not proof read

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

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“Of course!!! The somatic consequences of their hyperactive stress caused a delayed growth! Their adrenal glands had been over active the whole time they were in captivity, leading to hypertension and extreme exhaustion.”

“Use real words brainiac.” Raph grunted.

“Well, basically after they had enough rest and worked through all their pent up stress, they were able to control their adrenaline response. That’s how they were able to naturally trigger their mutation gene! Fascinating.”

“So uuuuh, what does that mean?” Mikey added helpfully.

“It means that Stockman’s mutation experiment worked, and we need to ensure that he never finds that out. Who knows what Karai and the Foot would do with that kinda power?” Leo interjected.

“Since Stockman is distilling diluted mutagen from Bebop and Rocksteady’s blood, the effect of a successful animal mutation is highly unlikely. From the information I gathered from his experiments overseas, it appears that only 2% of his test subjects had permanent animal mutations. So the statistical likelihood of achieving the perfect hybrid of human and animal DNA with an impure source of mutagen is less than 0.00001%! It’s honestly a scientific miracle that their mutation appears to be stable in the first place!” Donnie rambled.

At some point the plates were taken out of your hands and you were sat down in a chair at the table next to April. April had her hand on your shoulder while listening to the boys talk about what to do. You had stopped listening a while ago. Your eyes had gone vacant. The sounds in the room felt so far away, like you were underwater. It felt like you couldn’t breathe.

“So what? If it’s that hard to do then we got nothing to worry about.” Raph said gruffly and folded his arms.

“Not necessarily. If Stockman gains access to a form of stable active mutagen, then the success rate of mutation goes up to 40%!!! He could make an army…”

“An army of mutants.” Leo said solemnly.

“Aw man, come on! Bebop and Rocksteady are already a pain in the ass. Stockmans gonna make more of them?” Mikey griped.

“Not if we can help it.” Raph said, fixing the toothpick between his lips.

“So what does that mean for (y/n)?” April spoke up, chair squeaking as she stood up.

“It means, if Stockman gets his hands on (y/n), it’s game over.”

You were barely aware of your surroundings. You were scared. So so scared. Whatever Dr Stockman did to you, it worked. It made you into a weapon. You can’t stand the thought of what he’d do if he ever got his hands on you again. Memories of your time in the lab flashed through your mind. You started to tremble and you felt something wet slide down your cheeks.

“What should I tell the police?” Casey asked from where he stood in the circle.

“Tell them to keep an eye out for any Foot activity and report it back to us. We need any leads we can on where they’re hiding Stockman. And whatever you do, don’t give away (y/n)’s location. We need to keep them out of reach.” Leo ordered Casey.

You felt something warm engulf your trembling hands. It was… grounding. A calm feeling washed over you.

“Take deep breaths.” You heard a voice say next to your ear. You took in a slow deep breath, and a shuttering exhale. Then again. And again. You slowly began to feel yourself coming back to your body. When you finally blinked away your tears into consciousness, you saw Master Splinter standing by you, patient and holding your hands in his own.

“You are safe here. Do not worry about the past. Let my sons handle it, they are strong and will protect you.” The old rat reassured you.

You sniffed a bit and raised your hand to wipe away some of your tears, and nodded. “….thank you.” You said earnestly. Your voice was horse and heavy with emotion.

Master Splinter went to put the kettle on for tea, while the others finished talking and split up into their assigned jobs. Donnie and Leo went to Donnie’s computer station to coordinate what route to take for patrol, Casey got on the phone with the police commissioner to ask about the locations of recent Foot activity, Mikey and Raph were in charge of cleaning up the kitchen for you, and April disappeared to somewhere in the lair.

Splinter returned to you later with a fresh cup of tea, and sat with you quietly at the table while Raph and Mikey bickered over drying the clean plates. He sipped his tea while he quietly kept you company, giving you time and space to fully calm down. Eventually Mikey came over to join you and Master Splinter while Raph went to go help April carry some large wrapped supplies to somewhere in the back of the lair. You relaxed into your seat and enjoyed watching Mikey’s overly animated retelling of his valiant battle in one of his new video games.

“(Y/n)?” Leo came over to check on you a little while later.

“How are you feeling? Do you feel any muscle soreness or headaches?” Donnie was standing behind Leo holding a laptop.

You sighed. “I'm fine. Maybe a little bit of a headache…” You said honestly, finishing the rest of your tea.

Leo and Donnie exchanged a look that you did not miss.

“We…. were wondering…. if you would like to join us for some training?” Leo asked you tentatively.

You looked between the two suspiciously.

Donnie coughed totally inconspicuously into his fist. “Well,… we want to test your mutation’s ability. Strength, speed, reflexes, etc…. O-only if you’re okay with it, that is.”

Splinter sighed and sipped more of his tea. “Perhaps, that would be for the best.”

You looked to Master Splinter with surprise. You had been watching the boys train every day since you entered the lair, but there had never been an invitation to train with them. Splinter’s training looked extreme, and that was only putting it lightly. You knew the turtles had been training since they were little, and it certainly showed in their skill. You were intimidated to say the least.

“Really? Are you sure?” You were hesitant.

Master Splinter answered by setting aside his tea and standing up. “No need to worry, we will start with the basics. Follow me.” Splinter walked past a stunned Mikey, Leo, and Donnie in the direction of the dojo.

You stood up and followed behind him nervously. You passed by Raph and April who had emerged from one of the unused storage rooms. Raph looked surprised as you and Splinter walked into the dojo. He looked over at his brothers and pointed at you.

“Are they….?”

Leo Donnie and Mikey nodded quickly and scrambled over each other to get a good spot in the dojo. Raph and April shared a look and dropped what they were doing and rushed after them, passing a very confused Casey that had just gotten off the phone.

“Raphael. Please wrap their hands. Leonardo, please prepare to teach them the first basic katas.” Master Splinter ordered with ease. His tail flicked as he walked over to take his position in the dojo.

Raphael obeyed without complaint, and grabbed his boxing tape. You looked up at him anxiously, certain this was the closest you had been to Raphael since the night he carried you here.

You looked up at Raph with those big doe eyes of yours and had him feeling nervous. He started to wrap your hands up as gently as he could. He gulped at how small and dainty your hands were in his big steady grasp.

Finishing up, he nodded over to Leo and the leader in blue stepped up.

“Okay, when you’re ready, I want you to try and follow my form as closely as you can.” Leo planted his feet firmly on the tatami and gracefully moved in a form that looked like basic Tai Chi.

You followed Leo’s instructions for a while, did some stretching and warming up, and then your teacher switched. Michelangelo tutored you next on dodging, then Donatello on redirecting an enemy’s attack to use against them, and finally Raphael on how to throw a proper punch.

You did your best to copy, checking to make sure your feet were lined up with your shoulders and that you followed all the way through with the motion. Raph then came over as you continued the motion and made small corrections in your stance and how you held your fist.

“Donatello. Please stand with a plank in front of Miss (y/n).” Splinter ordered.

Donnie scampered over with a small wooden board. He adjusted his tech goggles over his eyes and licked his lips as he took a firm stance holding the board a foot in front of you.

Everyone paid close attention, seemingly excited to see your mutant strength in action again. You looked at him nervously and glanced at Master Splinter for assurance. You were a little scared about what your mutation might do. You took a deep breath, adjusted your stance, aaaaand-

tap.

Your stance crumbled as you moved to cradle your bruised knuckles.

“Oooow…” You hissed, and couldn’t stop the embarrassment showing on your face.

“Well, that was anticlimactic.” Leo deadpanned.

“Huh. I don’t get it, they shattered that plate like it was a cracker.” Donnie said, straightening back to his full height.

“Dude, maybe it only works on dinner plates.” Mikey added helpfully. April elbowed him in his side. “Ow- hey! I said maybe!”

“How about we just…. Try that again. You have to throw your whole weight into your fist. Okay?” Raph patiently adjusted your stance and squared you up to try and punch the board again, Donnie at the ready. Raph held his hands on your shoulders and tried to direct your movement to demonstrate how to shift your weight, when suddenly some movement in your peripheral vision caught your attention.

Before your mind could even register the idea of danger, you ducked.

Raph also stepped back out of the way of a tail whip. Your attention turned to Splinter, eyes wide and alert.

“Good. Your natural instincts are strong, use that to your advantage. Michelangelo, Leonardo, step forward.”

You watched as the four brothers lined up to face Master Splinter, you timidly joined them.

“We are going to play a game to assist Miss (y/n) in honing their mutant abilities. Are you prepared?” He asked you.

You paused a moment then nodded, feeling a bit brave and ready to give it a shot. “Yes.”

“Good. Your goal is to stay out of reach. The boys will try and capture you by stopping your movement. They will be gentle with you, rest assured. But pretend that they are Foot ninja. You need to learn to use your mutant skills to avoid danger.” Master Splinter explained.

You weren’t sure what the trigger was that made your mutant DNA activate, but you were determined to figure it out if it meant staying out of Dr Stockman’s reach. You nodded and took on a stance that Leonardo had taught you, while the boys all moved to different corners of the room.

“Good. Hajime!” Splinter signaled the start of the exercise. First Michelangelo ran over towards you and you ducked out of the way, getting behind him. Donatello tried to sneak up behind you and wrap his arms around you but you dropped to the floor and rolled away. Next, Leonardo swept your legs out from under you and you fell on your back. But you quickly used your momentum to jump back on your feet and backed up to put some distance between you and Leo. You were focusing too much on Leo when you suddenly bumped into Raph, who wrapped his arms around you and startled you enough to make you yelp.

A strange sensation overtook you. You felt a surge of energy fill your body with power and your body started moving on its own. Following the steps of the move you practiced earlier with Michelangelo, you reached up behind you and wrapped your arms around Raphael’s neck, then pulled forward and down with your whole weight, sending Raph curling forward and was flipped onto his back. He laid there eyes wide and stunned, mirroring the expression of everyone else present in the room.

You looked at Raph in shock, then down at your own hands, not fully believing it. Then suddenly the room erupted in whoops of cheer.

“YOOOOO!!! NO WAAAAAY!” Mikey excitedly cheered, grabbing hands with April to jump around excitedly.

Leo relaxed into a cheerful grin, and Donnie was snickering and snorting. Raph sat up with a half grin and you ran over next to him to ask if he was okay.

He rubbed the back of his head tenderly. “Way to go, Tiger.” He smiled at you and you took a sigh of relief.

Master Splinter was stroking his beard thoughtfully with a pleased expression on his face.

“It seems to me that you are at your highest strength when you are caught off guard. But I’m sure with practice you will find a way to harness your power when needed.”

Donnie came over and ruffled your hair while Leo offered Raph a hand to pull him up. Everyone seemed to be in good spirits. Afterwards it was time to call it a night.

Later that week, one evening you were getting ready for bed in Leo’s room. You heard a knock next to the door.

“Just a moment!” You said while finishing pulling on your sleep shirt.

You walked over to the doorway and parted the fabric to see Mikey standing there with barely contained excitement.

“Come on, I wanna show you something.” He was clearly giddy over something. You thought he might have gotten a new high score on his video game and wanted to show you, but to your surprise he led you down the hallway in the direction of the rest of the boy’s bedrooms. Maybe it was something in his room? But then he walked right past his room and stopped in front of their storage room. You were even more confused now.

A warm glow peaked from underneath the door, and with Mikey’s encouragement, you opened it.

“Surprise!!!”

Everyone was inside waiting for you and with the big reveal. You were greeted by a freshly painted room and a queen sized bed with new sheets and a heavy knit blanket. Fairy lights hung around the walls. A wooden desk and a fuzzy plush chair stood along the far wall with a lamp illuminating a new notebook and an old laptop that Donnie had been working on fixing up. Next to it was a bookshelf with old used books and your favorite salvaged DVDs and games. You brought your hand up to cover your mouth as tears welled up in your eyes.

“Is this… for me?” You asked tentatively.

Donnie stepped forward, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. “Well, we figured you would need your own room. Since you’ll most likely be staying with us for quite some time.”

“It was April’s idea. Plus, we figured you’d want your own space, to make you feel more at home here.” Leo said, stepping forward with a grin.

“Yeah!! And I can’t watch late night cartoons with Leo sleeping on the couch all the time!” Mikey complained from beside you earning a jab from Raphael.

“Girls need their privacy. This was the room I used to use when I’d sleepover from time to time, but then it stopped getting used and became overrun with junk. We figured it was time to clean it out and put it to good use.” April said with a happy smile.

“Yeah, and April and I can keep doing grocery store runs for you if you want to keep cooking. God knows it's easier than lugging down 2 dozen pizzas and junk food every week-.” April nudged Casey to shut him up.

Master Splinter stepped forward, holding a small beautiful bonsai tree with vibrant yellow leaves, and handed it to you. “Right now, things may seem new and strange. You have experienced hardships most can never hope to imagine. But you have a home here as long as you wish it. By bond and blood, you are our family, and we will always be there to protect one another.”

Your tears spilled over and ran down your cheeks. You reached out to Master Splinter for an emotional hug. “Thank you… everyone… I don’t know what to say…!” You sniffed.

Raph grunted, “No need. This is our thanks to you for fixing up the place. Just… don’t go flippin’ me no more.” He teased with a grin.

“Nooooo! Don’t say that!! I haven’t gotten it on tape yet!” Mikey complained.

“I’ll send you the video later.” Donatello whispered to him.

“Oh, sick. Right on.”

Raph glared at them.

The next morning, Casey got a call from his supervisor that the Foot Clan had been discovered smuggling stolen chemicals into the Sacks building. But something seemed fishy about it. The Foot were not normally this obvious when moving things around the city. It felt like they wanted to be discovered.

It felt like a trap.

Part 6

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