#unknown water quirk

[evilminji]

*evil grin of The Ponderings™*

You know who DEFINITELY would have Unfinished Business?

Heroes. Professional "If I could just MOVE, just fight a BIT LONGER, save ONE MORE PERSON" Heroes. It's the ultimate and unending Unfinished Business. To protect people. Not just their friends, their co-workers, but the innocent people around them.

That kid, stuck crying in the rubble.

That business man, screaming in pain, caught in the cross fire.

The People NEED them. They SWORE. Their very SOULS burn with the NEED to help. But... the flesh gave out. Injuries. Age. Quirk overuse. They knew... they KNEW, this was not a safe line of work... but... but! Please! Just one more person! Why can't they just make their breaking, dying, bodies MOVE!

Of course they refuse to move on.

They are needed HERE.

Yet? Their hands pass through. Their voices do not reach. A hell of their own, unknown, making. They can't let go, but they can't HELP either. There isn't enough Ectoplasm here. The walls of their reality overly patched up, since that unfortunate leak a few centuries back.

After all, the Zone had dumped near lethal quantities of unfiltered Ecto into the atmosphere. They're STILL dealing with the mutations and fall out, aren't they? At least, they are according to the Zone. (Wtf is a "Quirk"?) And, yeah, someone should PROBABLY do an assessment on the ecological recovery of the Reality. But like?

Do you have any idea how few people have an Obsession for stuff like that? Wait your turn! The list is long and you're not fuckin special, okay? The agents are BUSY.

Now, you might wonder? Wait. If they aren't moving on. Are DEFINITELY Ghosts. Starving as they are. Refusing to die as they may be. Wouldn't... Wouldn't that leave the whole ass area around their Reality an ecological dead zone? If it got over patched and no Ghosts LEFT, thus noticed, and started to try and work on it from the outside? Assuming the COULD?

Yeah. Yeah it would be!

It's called the "New Wastes"!

There used to be some cool Lairs around there. But there was a turf dispute. Someone DID something. Punched a HOLE. And everyone re-died. It was fixed but never quite re-healed. Portals... don't show up there? For some reason? Meh. Wanna brawl?

No. Danny's curious. He wants ANSWERS.

It's his fatal flaw.

Well... that and his inability to keep his mouth shut. But he likes to think he's funny. So... off he goes! And MAN! Does it feel funky out there! Weird textures. Mmmm, Don't Like THAT ™. It's probably a King thing? The Zone here... FEELS wrong.

Not... the way it's SUPPOSED to be shaped, if that makes sense?

And? It feels... if you sorta squint? Like... a LOT of people AREN'T where they should be. But aren't gonna leave until they're READY. Ooof. Great. Someone messed up again. Why does he KEEP FINDING bits and pockets that need straightening out? Unruffling? It's like he has to keep smooth out this giant peice of fabric with all these stains on it. Clean the messes on it.

He feels more like a maid then a King.

Maybe he is?

Pretty sure he's more of a nanny, since the Zone is more of a whiny yet excitable toddler then anything else. Alright, let him in. And fix... whatever THAT is.

So he steps into the Reality and? Huh. Japan. Neat. He always meant to go, never got around to it. Why is that man an otter?

.......oooohohooo, this place was HELLA fucked up by Ectoplasm, wasn't it? This is multi generational exposure. It's in the air. The water, ground, buildings. But stale to the point of stagnation. That can't be healthy. At least a few people he sees have developed ecto-resistance, thank the Ancients.

Danny discovers there are? "Superheroes"? Or just... heroes, apparently. They sell shampoo lines and athletic gear. Villians are petty criminals and psychopaths. All lumped together. He gets fuckin CHASED by the COPS and half the cities spandex patrol, called a "villian" (you know, like the purse snatchers and the DUDE WHO TRIED TO OPEN FIRE ON A CROWD) for flying around trying to assess the situation. Not speaking Japanese fast enough.

Soooorry! He TRIED to answer your confusing barked demands! This isn't his native language! He's translating through Ghost Speech! He knows it sounds unsettling to the living! It's the best he's GOT, man! (Asshole)

He escapes, obviously, because he's not 14 anymore. And honestly? He could top 200mph or so AT 14. He's only gotten faster. Intangible flight means no wind drag, motherfuckers~! OR need to dodge buildings! HA. Try to follow him through THE GROUND!

A few Blob sucked (to remove the ectoplasm) bits of treasure later? And he leaves a pawn shop with local currency. Thank YOU shady pawn shop! Ask him no questions, he'll tell you not lies. Enjoy Pariah's gold.

He does tourist things. Buy foods he's never tried, wanders around. Sees what's needed. Noticed a lot of people struggle with some aspect of the ecto-mutations brought on by the extreme Limnality. Need accessibility aids.

.....well, he IS a Fenton. His parents would disown him on the SPOT if he left with out at least TRYING to help. So he tracks down one the local ghosts. He'll need a guide or two.

He? VASTLY underestimates how desperate a sea of Obsession Starved Hero and Vigilante Ghosts will act, the INSTANT, they realize not only someone can see them... but it's? Their "Boss"? They aren't sure HOW they know that. But they DO. It's THE Boss. Here to help them! Asking for HELP ™ from THEM!

Yes

YES THEY CAN DO THAT

He gets swarmed. Hundreds of ghosts fighting over each other. Shouting. Turning on each other like rabid animals. All worn down and ragged by their Obssesion starvation. He's forced to shout over them.

And? Holy shit, these are only the ones from THIS CITY, too.

Thank Zone, again, he's no longer 14. That he has friends who are Rulers ™ that taught him HOW to Rule. To delegate. Pretend he TOTALLY knows what he's doing. That every action is on purpose.

It takes less then two hours, with all the experienced Unground Heros help, to make himself a Real Boy and buy a building. Put himself into the correct databases. He officially has licenses for things he's never studied. Is a tax paying citizen. Even belongs to several local clubs.

Over the next few days? He sets up his new... oi! Quickdraw! What're they called again? Right. "Lifestyle Support Company" which? Is a dumb name. But, Fenton Works is Fenton Works. Somehow he always kinda knew he'd be inherenting. It's in a cruddy part of town and the prices are cheap as he can safely get um.

He already had two customers, even though half the building isn't even fully set up. Which? I mean... he gets it. Poor guy. Knives for hands. Sharp ones too. The other guy's Obsession made him emotionally react to colors and like three different ones were ruining his life. So, hand Prosthetics controllable by knives and color filtering wrap around glasses.

Took him a lunch break or two.

Changed THEIR lives.

Suddenly his shop is packed. Schedule screaming for relief. And the ghosts? Getting more tangible by the day. See, his work shop? Ecto proofed. Let's him relax. But it ALSO let's him radiate fresh, clean, Ecto out into the air. And as King? With a direct line to The Zone? He puts out a lot.

There start to become Sightings.

People who SWEAR they saw long dead Heros out of the corner of their eyes. Dead vigilantes. That was who through that bottle. Who tripped that thug at just the right moment. Who unlocked the door. The SWEAR. They aren't crazy!

And... at first? Brushed off. Stress does a lot of crazy thing to a person, ma'am. But? How do you brush off, making eye contact with your dead best friend? Your old mentor on the other roof? That vigilante, who you WATCHED bleed out? Can you brush them off... when a vigilante from the dawn of quirks, punches some two bit villian on live television? Calls the Heros on the scene gloryhounds? Goverment dogs?

Runs from the cops and vanishes into thin air?

When this shit KEEPS HAPPENING?

Is spreading?

Are... are you supposed to arrest them for illegal vigilantism? How? They're THE proto-Heros! You don't want your name tied to that! The HPSC is furious. The goverment is uneasy. There are like... 6 dudes and a lady, openly stalking some kid in UA. Trying to mentor him. He looks moments away from a nervous breakdown.

Us too, kid. Us too.

All? While Danny? Is just sitting in his lil shop. Tinkering. Not HIS problem. Gotta let the ghosts here get it out of their system. Get their Obsession's full. Then it's all aboard the Zone Train. He's just here to make sure no one does anything "Too Crazy".

What's HIS definition of "too crazy"?

Wouldn't YOU like to know, weather boy~☆

@hdgnj @lolottes @nerdpoe @babbling-babull @mutable-manifestation @spidori @the-witchhunter @legitimatesatanspawn

[fatkish]

Alpha Keigo Takami x Mortem Omega Reader

Being a Mortem omega meant that you were incredibly strong, the same as an Apex Alpha if not stronger

This, paired with the unknown factor and their aggressive hostility towards Alphas, made Mortems feared by society

Which is why the HPSC demanded that Hawks make the reported Mortem either submit to him and be his mate, or kill the Omega with no hesitation

It was just his luck that the Mortem in question happened to have an Avian quirk, resulting in their instincts being more bird like

This could work. This would do nicely. Keigo was very reluctant to kill any omega, not to mention his inner Alpha nearly howling at the thought

Upon entering the abandoned building the Omega was reported to be in, he found them inside a nest, hiding underneath their own wings

When he tried to approach them, they tackled him to the floor, growling and trying to sink their claws into him

They might’ve nearly killed him in their scuffle if his Alpha hadn’t taken over and started softly trilling and singing to the Omega

Swaying from side to side and flashing his wings, Keigo showed off all his best dance moves while softly serenading the Omega

Seeing that the Omega had finally calmed down and was no longer showing any hostility, Keigo’s alpha took this opportunity to fully embrace his instincts and woo the Omega

It took a few months of Keigo bringing you food and little gifts like small trinkets, maybe jewelry or makeup, nesting material like blankets or pillows, things like that

But eventually, he had you hooked. He wasn’t doing this for the Commission, he genuinely wanted to be your Alpha. When you finally gave him the chance, he presented you with a hand woven necklace/choker as his official courting gift

After that you followed him to his home where he had tidied everything up just to make the place look nice. After your through inspection, you deemed the place nice and left to collect and relocate your nest

Keigo thought you had rejected him when you left, he couldn’t stand to stay in the apartment so he too, left. Only to come back to the strong scent of an Omega in pre-heat.

He rushed into his bedroom to find you already building a larger nest. One he realized was big enough for the two of you. He chirped and began bringing you whatever you wanted for the nest.

You need more blankets? He’s got ‘em right here. More pillows? Already done. You want him to scent this for you? He’d be delighted to. You want some of his feathers to stick into the nest? Take as many as you need.

By the time the nest was done, you were well on your way to being fully in heat. And Keigo was starting to be affected by your sweet and delicious smell

He quickly called the Commission telling them not to bother him since he’ll be dealing with his new Omega.

After that he made sure to bring you food and water before he got down to business

Throughout your heat, Keigo was nearly as insatiable as you were. He’d eat you out like a man starved, growling and pulling your hips back onto his face whenever you tried to run away from being overstimulated.

He’d push your head down with your ass in the air as he thrusted into you. His cock is about 8’ in length and nearly 2’ in girth. His knot is nearly 3’ at the widest. Unlike most Alphas, Keigo lets his knot inflate inside you as he ruts into you instead of pushing it in after it’s inflated

He’s normally fast and passionate, making you cum and he covers you both with his wings. He’ll nip at your neck, growling and trilling, he’s very vocal

After your heat, he simply rests with you safely tucked under his wings, snuggling up to him

Overall he’s a very sweet and dorky Alpha, but he knows when to put his foot down.

[sunflowersteves]

only for you || j.m.

pairing || joel miller x fem!reader

summary || there was one routine that you and Joel never broke, not even when the world goes up in flames.

author's note || a part two to singing in the shower! but also can be read as a stand alone. this was supposed to be posted two sunday’s ago but um procrastination kicked in. hope you enjoy <3

warnings || angst, some fluff, mentions of death, canon typical violence mentions, reader is five years younger, soft!joel, hurt/comfort, joel with wet hair, SMUT, vaginal sex, praise kink, soft sex, creampie, soft dom!joel, [18+ only]

Joel wasn’t as soft as he used to be. 

His calm, gentle smile that shined when you and Sarah danced around in the kitchen, listening to Johnny Cash, had faded into hard lines and gray stubble. His movements were brash and jarring, almost threatening with his hard-set glare that bore into everyone around him. 

He never smiled anymore, not really. 

His lips would quirk slightly upwards in amusement from your insults to other people in the QZ that deserved it, or his lips would curl in delight from the safe haven of his apartment, but that was all you really got. You didn’t complain much, though. It wasn't like you smiled that often either. 

Only with him. Only with each other.

Instead, Joel tended to show his affection toward you in ways of touch.

He was protective—that much is true. Any time you had to leave the albeit protection of Boston for whatever reason, he wouldn’t let you out of his sight. He would have his hand guiding you by the small of your back. His arm would reach out to stop you from walking any further to the dangerous depths of the unknown.

He always squeezed your wrist in anticipation of what was to come. He never lets you walk behind him, ever. You are always first. He would make hard-set rules with you on outing trips, despite the grit of your teeth from irritation. 

It wasn’t that he thought you couldn’t handle yourself. No, he knew that. He has watched you decapitate a shambler or two over the years. He has seen you take on about five men at a time and make it out with only a couple of stab wounds. He knows you can handle yourself just fine. 

He just couldn't bear to lose you. Not on his watch. He has lost a fuck ton in his life, and the thought of losing something that is keeping him on his last thread and something so pure and good to him—well, it terrifies him. 

You are the only thing that matters to him.

So, his only way of truly showing affection, to know nothing has changed with how he truly feels about you, was through his feather-light touches and protective manner. 

It was endearing, really. You knew he still loves, and fuck, did you still love too. 

There was one guarantee, though, through all of his overbearing protectiveness and crinkled wrinkles of menacingly deadly eyes that you knew Joel was still enamored by you. There was one constant—a routine that never changed. If there was one thing he could look forward to, it was that constant. It was you that he could rely on.

It was simple, really. It almost seemed stupid that there was one moment in time every single day that the two of you could count on one another. 

You both always showered together. Always.

It didn’t matter if the water was cold or if there was barely even any water, to begin with. It didn’t even matter if you weren’t in the QZ. Overgrown hot springs and vastly green rivers still counted as getting clean. The shower walls of your shared apartment weren't the biggest, either, but the two of you made it work. 

But that one constant that he could always look forward to was holding you in the shower and pressing gentle kisses against the juncture of your neck and shoulder.

He craved it.

Joel would always walk through the front door with a grunt after getting home from smuggling Oxy to some FEDRA soldier with Tess. He was tired, absolutely exhausted. He was like that pretty much every day, and he could feel his age catching up with him. 

You were sitting criss crossed on the beat-up couch, reading Meditations by Marcus Aurelius. He could feel something beat and sprout across his chest at the sight. You have read that book probably about ten times by now, and yet you read it all the same with an immersed furrowed brow.

He had gotten the book for your birthday a couple of years ago. He watched you unwrap the shitty old newspaper with animated eyes as you stared at the cover.

He could’ve sworn he saw tears on your lash line. You enveloped him into a hug—hands pressing tightly against his back to keep him close and you kept him there. You both sat like that for a long time. 

He always loved watching you read. He didn’t pay that much attention before everything went to shit, but now, it was his favorite pastime.

Your lips would lick the corner of your mouth in concentration, and your eyes rapidly scanned each individual page as if you were hanging on the edge of your seat. It was always a heartfelt reminder for him of you—of how much he truly cherishes you.

Before the outbreak, you had been a philosophy professor at UT Austin. It’s how you met, actually. You were grading papers in a coffee shop when you saw the two of them walk in. Sarah had begged him for a chocolate chip muffin, and since it was a special occasion to be in the heart of the city, he couldn’t resist saying yes. He had accidentally bumped into your table, causing the three of you to have a lengthy conversation as if it was the most normal thing in the world. 

“Long day, handsome?”

His eyes focus back on you. It was like his thoughts had put him in a trance until your soft voice punctured the air. 

You were peering through the dusty book, and a ghost of a smile wrapped around your lips. He nodded, stretching out his hand for you to take it. You dog-eared the book and placed it face down on the couch. You took his hand—feeling the dry calluses and rough skin.

“Long fuckin’ day.”

He guided you to the cramped bathroom, and you squeezed his hand. He turned on the shower head while you took off your shirt and pants. A shiver ran through your body from the lack of isolated heat. He did the same, unbuttoning his plaid shirt and tossing it carelessly onto the floor. 

He stepped into the shower to place his hand under the water to test it as if he didn’t know that the water was barely even warm. He did it every single time you two bathed. Every time. It was all routine. 

You let him guide you into the shower, eyes noticing his own trailing down your figure. Every single day, he couldn’t help but look at your beautiful curves and supple skin.

He wanted to admire you for the rest of his days. He wanted the scene of you washing your body of dirt and grime to be seared into his brain like a farmer branding some cattle. You close the curtain behind you and watch as his eyes never leave you. 

“Pretty girl.” He whispered into your ear. You felt yourself softly smile—something you hadn’t done in hours, not since Joel woke you up with a kiss on your cheek. 

You let the feeling of him wash over your body and soul, his arms wrapping around your torso and pulling you close. He smelled earthy and bold, with a hint of cedar from his own musk. You could feel his chest fall and rise against your shoulder blades, and his chin dug into your shoulder—endearingly.

You let out a hum before untangling his arms. As much as you love these moments, you know you shouldn't waste too much water. You rubbed a shampoo bar into your hands and lathered them together to create a sudsy mess. Joel felt his eyes flutter close in anticipation for your hands to dig into his hair.

He lets out a soft moan when your hands finally grab hold of his hair. His jaw slacks open, and you try to suppress a smile from his relaxed state. Your hands scratched against his scalp to clean all of the dirt and oil off of him. Joel’s eyes were practically rolling into the back of his head from the euphoric emotions that sunk deep within his chest. 

His eyes snap open in disbelief when he feels your hands leave his hair, and you almost laughed aloud. He could see the amused expression radiate off of you, and he felt himself heat up—you never failed to make him feel a certain way.

You gasped as you felt his hand harshly grip your hips, but you saw a bright smile wrapping around his face that almost made you freeze. His smile. It punctured the air and made your head feel dizzy with delight. Your eyes rake over his pearly teeth and deep wrinkled lines on his cheeks. It was ethereal. He was ethereal. 

“What you starin’ at, pretty girl?”

You pressed your thumb into the crevasse of his dimple, and his eyes fluttered back closed. “I think you’re the pretty one.”

He lets out a small snort. “Not a day in hell.” His Texas accent was gruff against the planes of your ear. His hand trailed itself up to rest on your cheek, thumb swiping so soft and caring that it brought a bigger smile to your lips. “Ain’t pretty at all.” 

“I beg to differ, Miller.” His eyes crinkled in a smile at the use of his last name—knowing you were super serious now. But the teasing gleam of your eyes told him otherwise. “You’re too pretty.”

He clicks his tongue. “Too pretty, huh? Think I’m takin’ a run for your money?”

You shake your head in bubbled-up laughter—adoration spreading from your shoulders to your toes. Throughout all of the tragedy and suffering this world has put the two of you through, you are so elated to have each other. 

“Oh, handsome, you took it and buried it deep.” He rolled his eyes and gently pinched your cheek to get you to stop teasing. Although, if there’s one dynamic that never changed, it was giving each other shit. 

He lets out a huff. “Whatever you say.”

You gently guided him under the stream of water and rinsed out all of the shampoo. You cupped a hand over his eyes to avoid any product from stinging his eyes. You turn to pump some expired conditioner in your hands, but his rough fingertips halt you to a stop.

“Your turn, darlin’.”

═ ∘◦❦◦∘ ═

After Joel relaxed in the lukewarm shower with you, he always got a little soft. Even if the shower was no less than five minutes, you could always tell how much he enjoyed it.

It reminded him of home. It reminded him a little bit of what once was or what could be. 

He always stares—lovingly—at your newly clean body. He watched your chest rise and fall so gently from the calm atmosphere of your apartment.

His soft brown eyes skated across your figure with such love—such hope and elation. He felt like he was in pure bliss just from the exhilarated feeling of the thrill of your gentle touches caressing his skin. 

He felt whole in these moments with you. 

He watched you gently rub expired lotion onto your skin. Boston was always humid and lacked the airy feel of dry Texas winters, but the frigid cold of light snowfall always broke out your skin. Joel loved to feel your soft curves, and his hands would spread across your legs to relish in the feeling. He was obsessed with your thighs, too, gripping and nipping at them until you had to tug his hands away. 

You stood near the bed to find that his eyes were already on you—his naked form sitting on the uncomfortable mattress. His wet hair glistened underneath the yellow glow of the overhead light. He looked so handsome like that. The gray hairs poked loudly against his soft brown ones, and you watched as the water dripped down his neck. 

“C’mere.” You didn’t need to be told twice before taking your seat onto his legs—straddling his waist and your hands gripping his shoulder. His thighs were tense and hard, muscles flexing underneath your own.

“Y’smell so sweet—” He whispered into the frizz of your hair. His hands rested on your hips, while his fingertips squeezed around your love handles. “Could eat you right up.”

You looked into those grumpy brown eyes, and pure adoration sprouted from your chest and into your lungs. He was intoxicating in each and every way, from his rough exterior to his soft lingering touches that send love aches into your bones. 

“Joel.” You whispered.

You pressed your lips against him, tasting burnt coffee and of him, that lingered in your mouth. Your lips were molding together with each open-mouthed kiss and teeth clashing to be closer and closer. You could feel yourself start to squirm in his lap, and he had to have a tight grip just to keep you somewhat still. 

Your hands pushed themselves into his damp hair, spreading your fingers across each strand. You pulled gently at the base of his neck, and a moan vibrated against your lips.

He pulled away from you—much to your dismay—to reach and pull down your underwear. The material pooled around your ankles, and you anticipatingly shrugged them off. 

“Gonna take care of you, sweet girl.” 

You shivered from the suspense of what was to come, but you wanted to stop him from taking control. He deserved to be loved on too. He deserved to feel the euphoric dance that pooled in his stomach just like you did. 

You shook your head. “W-Wanna ride you, Joel. Please.” He let out a shaky breath because god, he could never say no to you. You could ask for all the stars in the sky, and he would give them to you in a heartbeat. 

He finally nodded after gaining composure and re-adjusted his hands to rest more gently on your torso. You could tell your wetness dripped from your lips and spread to your hood. Your walls ache and plead for the sweet stretch of his cock. 

You watched his cock twitch from your glistening cunt. He knew you were wet. He always knew. He could practically taste it on his tongue if he thought hard enough, but his brain couldn’t catch up. Not when you take your hand to position his length and slowly sink down onto him. 

He let out a groan as he listened to your sweet whimpers. “S-Shit.” 

You both stayed still for a moment while you caught your breath from the long stretch of his cock. No matter the twenty or so years you have been together, you could never get used to his thick cock filling you up to the brim. 

“Fuck, baby, feel so fuckin’ tight.” And you always did. You always hugged him completely and squeezed until your juices ran down his thighs. You were always fucking heaven. 

The gentlest of moans left your throat, and as if he wanted to capture them, Joel started pressing kisses up and down your neck. “Y’take me so well, darlin’.”

You grind up and sink your way back down, a whine escaping you. His eyes are glued to watching himself disappear inside of you—hands tightening once again around your love handles. “Goddamn, baby—”

“Fuck, Joel. Yes—”

Your thighs spread even wider as you snapped back down his length—the soft cushion of the bedspread flushed against your knees. “You like this hmm? Like bein’ in control?” His words slurred together, and he took in every snap and roll of your hips.

You nodded. “Love when you’re a mess for me, Joel.” Your head lulled back, and he groaned—sultry and deep as it hit your ears. “Yeah, Joel, Yes—”

Your hand moved to cup his cheek in the softest of ways and it made Joel’s brain short-circuit. He whimpered at the contact of your skin and the simultaneous rock of your hips. You could barely make out the next sentence he says because you squeezed his cock, and Joel became too drunk off of you.

“Fuck, d-darlin’, baby—shit—” He gasped and puffed—chest heaving from the pure sensation of your spongey walls. You started to feel that familiar coil wrap against your stomach, pushing yourself to find that angle. 

You started to lean more toward the side to grind and swirl your hips as fast as you could. You could tell the angle wasn’t quite right, so you tried again—gasping and moaning in the process. You almost wanted to groan in frustration alone when you still couldn’t find it. 

Joel just watched in amusement as you tried to find the spot he was always able to find. He almost didn’t say anything from your adorable expression until he saw the frown across your face. 

“You want me to help, darlin’?” You looked down to see a small smirk in the corner of his mouth. You almost wanted to say no, but you ground your hips again, causing the two of you to moan, and you gave in.

You mewled out. “Please, Joel. I-I need you.”

In one swift movement, Joel flipped you over so that your back was pressed up against the mattress. He presses a kiss to your calf as if it gave you any warning. He swung your leg right over his shoulder and thrust so deep inside you; you had to hold onto the bedroom wall behind you. “Fuck! Joel!”

“Fuck, you’re squeezin’ me so good.” His cock pounded into you, and he hit that spot over and over and over. You screamed into the night air and chanted his name as if it was the only thing on your mind—and it was. All you could think about was Joel.

“Joel! P-Please! Oh, Fuck—”

“Yeah? Gonna cum, sweet girl?” You couldn't even respond back to him because his thumb presses up against your clit, and your jaw slacks in a silent scream. “Cum for me. Please, pretty girl. Cum.” 

With a “JoelJoelJoel” and a clench of your walls, your juices flood around yours and his own thighs. Your eyes rolled back into your head as he thrusts through your climax. “Yeah. That’s it, darlin’. Look at you. Pretty thing.” He almost coos. He could watch you cum around his cock until it was the only thing he thought about. 

One, two, three thrusts into your sweet ecstasy, and Joel sighs out your name as he spills inside of you. Thick ropes of his cum filled your walls, and it caused you to clench once more. He pumped his cock to feel the sticky mess of his cum and yours as they swirled together inside of you. 

“So good for takin’ care of me, huh?” He joked, breathless. He pressed a sweet kiss to your temple.

You fought the urge to punch his arm. Instead, you rolled over so your back was facing him. 

“Shut the fuck up, Miller.” 

He pulled you close and wrapped his arm around your torso. You reach around to squeeze his hand, causing a shadow of a smile to stretch his cheeks. You both always cuddled silently before having to take another, very cold, shower.

“Yes, ma’am.”

[ddarker-dreams]

A Chance Encounter.

Yan Scaramouche x Reader.

Loosely based on this concept.

Warnings: Only light yandere themes since Reader doesn't know about Scara's Harbinger affiliation. Word count: 1.1k.

Scaramouche could succinctly describe this assignment as a pain.

Some whistleblower whose conscience got the better of her in retirement, realizing now that she’s living off a measly pension instead of a steady stream of income that perhaps experimentation on unwitting subjects is actually not so dandy. How convenient. Moral epiphanies have the best timing. Or in the Harbinger’s case, the worst timing, since this trip to Mondstadt was supposed to be for pleasure, not business. 

He occupies a space beneath a sizable canopy. Shadows swallow him, occasionally chased off by shy sunlight wriggling through interstices born from the steady wind. The weather is fair compared to the everlasting winter that wrings all life from Snezhnaya. This nation is perfectly idyllic, perfectly boring, save for a single inhabitant who is notably exempt from his criticism. 

If it weren’t for the invisible yet no less present Fatui agents slinking about, he’d give in to the urge to quirk his lips upward. 

At least when this is wrapped up, he can see you. 

The matter shouldn’t take much longer. In written correspondence with the would-be traitor, he played the role of a bleeding heart, successfully blindsiding her into thinking he shares her plight. Now all that remains is to meet up with her and discern if the supposedly damning documents hold any weight or not. The rest can be left to his lackeys, he’d rather not waste any more time when he could be engaging in far more enjoyable activities. 

This is about as cut and dry as it gets. 

Except… 

Rapid footsteps approach. 

Foliage crunches beneath the heel of an exuberant individual, smothering leaves and snapping twigs. 

“Kuuuuuniiiiiii!” A voice he knows very well calls out. 

There is but a single entity throughout all of Teyvat who actively runs toward him, not away from him, and this entity so happens to be you. The concept of shame is a foreign one, you’re far too concerned with utilizing various flourishes to capture his attention. The fanfare is without reason. The instant you enter the scene, Scaramouche scarcely remembers the rest of the world exists, it becomes as inconsequential as the ground he treads on. 

You are a fallen star streaming through the sky, an answer to a wish he never had the courage to make. 

Unfortunately, you’ve happened upon him at a tricky juncture. The Fatui swarming like sharks in the water are prepared to tear into you at his command. From their perspective, you are an unknown variable running full force at their Lord Harbinger. Never in their wildest dreams could they fathom the notoriously spiteful Balladeer has a sweet spot for you, this is by his design. He’s painstakingly taken measures to ensure his little ball of sunshine can’t be used by his many enemies. 

The wave he gives serves two purposes — to greet you and signal his men to stand down. 

As if he wasn’t already thrown off-kilter by your abrupt appearance, when you’re at the appropriate distance, you launch at him with arms held wide. He catches you with an ease unfitting of his slender demeanor, his strength far surpassing that of any mortal. You’re content to wrap your arms around his neck while he steadies you. 

“I knew it was you! The hat gave it away. It always does,” you explain in between breaths. “And here I was thinking that you wouldn’t be in for a few more days.” 

Slowly, he helps ease you back down. You sway a bit, clutching his shoulders to maintain your balance, to which he snickers. “Were you so desperate to see me that running at a reasonable pace slipped your mind?” 

“I thought if I exerted more force, I might be able to tackle you to the ground this time… so much for that.” 

“Hah. As if. What strange fantasies you entertain without me around. The loneliness must rot your brain.” 

“Who says I’m lonely?” You challenge, tilting your head to the side. “I’m more than capable of making and maintaining friendships. That’s what happens when you’re a likable person.” 

He’s quick to reply so as not to betray his irritation at the idea. “You? Likable? The mental deterioration is worse than I feared. I hope it isn’t irreversible at this stage.” 

You shrug. “I dunno, you seem to like me well enough. I consider that my crowning achievement. If I can win you over I’m capable of anything. Maybe I’ll aim for world peace next.” 

Scaramouche is so quick to be swept up in the wild tide that is you that his bumbling underlings temporarily slipped his mind. Lately, there’s been one in particular who seems keen on proving himself worthy of a promotion. He goes out of his way to do extra work Scaramouche never tasked him with. It’s been a minor nuisance yet nothing major has come from it. 

However, in his purview, he senses this sycophant taking a position that’d be advantageous to strike at you from. 

Scaramouche’s retaliation is immediate. On a perfectly sunny day, a vicious bolt of lightning strikes mere inches from the spot he occupies, effectively communicating his lord’s displeasure. The white-hot flash earns your attention. You turn your head in the direction it came from, then shoot him an inquisitive glance. 

“... What did that bush ever do wrong?” 

“You’d be surprised.” 

The warning must’ve made it through the agent’s thick head, for he backs off like a dog with its tail between its legs. 

“Hey. I have some business I need to finish, then I’ll treat you to dinner,” Scaramouche knows you well enough to be confident that the idea of delicious food will successfully distract you. It’s as he predicted — he can practically hear the gears turning in your head as you form plans. He can only hope he doesn’t have to encounter that slovenly excuse of a god who once serenaded you with the story of an abandoned doll, claiming it to be a ‘cautionary tale’. The self-restraint he exercised that day is second to none. 

“Alright, but try to leave some nature standing, this is a trail I enjoy walking. I’d rather you don’t eviscerate it.” 

You begin to part ways, before loudly proclaiming ‘oh!’, like you’d forgotten something important. Then you’re back by his side. He processes the feeling before anything else, the soft sensation of your lips on his cheek renders him speechless. A crimson hue dusts against his pale cheeks as he subconsciously raises his hand to touch the still-tingling spot. Content with yourself, you depart, waving as enthusiastically as you had earlier. 

When his coherency returns, he sighs. That was a bit more than he’d prefer any Fatui-aligned person to see.

He’ll have to get creative to explain the deaths of all his men on such a low-stakes mission. Before that, however, he needs to ask one to hand the appropriate forms over, lest it disintegrate to ash as they’re fated to. 

It’s a pain, truly, but you’re worth the extra effort. 

[shiggybrainr0t]

shouto wakes up trapped underneath a collapsed building, only to find himself also trapped in your embrace.

warnings: both Shouto and reader are hurt pretty badly </3, blood, immediate threat of death lol?, description of a broken leg, mention of vomiting but it doesn’t happen and isn’t explicitly stated, this is cheesy and unedited

border by @cafekitsune :)

dedicated to andie if they happen to see it because I thought of them while writing my very first Shouto fic 💘

Whenever Shouto awakes, it’s to a pounding headache, intense pain throbbing along the right side of his body, flickering lights, and something soft holding him tightly.

Groggily, he opens his eyes, wincing as the flickering light blinds him for a second. There’s a steady drip drip drip of water falling onto concrete though it’s too dark to make out much of his surroundings as the light flickers off again. The last thing he remembers is coming to an office building, where a villain with an unknown quirk was holding people hostage. A teary sounding gasp makes him look upwards weakly, only now noticing he is laying down.

He sees your face for the first time then. Eyes puffy and red from crying, with a trail of blood dripping from your hairline and down your nose, past your lips to where it becomes smeared as you wipe it away hurriedly.

“You’re awake!”

Your voice is soft, and slightly trembling as you gaze at him with wide, wavering eyes. They’re very pretty, he thinks dazedly. Framed by wet lashes, he also thinks he could look into them forever. Shouto moves to shift only to have his vision flash as pain erupts like molten lava traveling down his side.

“D-don’t try to move! A beam fell on you before you passed out. You were barely able to get out from under it.”

Feeling woozy, Shouto has to close his eyes for a moment to keep the pain from escaping through his mouth. There’s a sickening crack, and he realizes he’s cradled in your arms whenever you whimper and pull him closer, so that his head is resting against your chest and you’re basically hovering over him. He hears rubble begin to hit to ground, and sees you flinch as some small bits of gravel bounce off your head and fall beside him. Your eyes are clenched shut, and a fresh line of blood runs down your face and drips onto his own. No rubble ever hits him.

He’s confused. Why is a civilian, a hurt one at that, putting their life at risk for a pro hero? He’s supposed to be protecting you, yet here you are shielding him with your soft body. He must make a noise, because suddenly you’re looking down at him again, eyes wide with concern, bravely holding back tears now that he is awake.

Softly, you move one of the hands you had cradling his head to wipe at the blood that has dripped onto his cheek. Apologizing quietly, you begin talking again, the almost whispers coming out of your mouth seemingly echoing through the space.

“Your walkie talkie still worked thankfully, for a little while. Deku is here, and so is Red Riot and Uravity. They should have us out of here in no time, so don’t worry ok! Dynamight is also here, but that’s more worrying than anything honestly.”

Shouto can’t help but laugh at your candor, wincing as it makes the pain throbbing through his body flash intensely. You pull him even closer in your lap, now petting his bangs soothingly. Your fingers are soft on his sweaty skin, and he almost purrs whenever you begin to trace the lines of his face in a mesmerizing manner. He doesn’t remember the last time he was comforted like this when he was hurt. Usually it’s himself alone in his untouched apartment, picking up the pieces and taping them back together. He can never quite get them to fit right.

“Are you hurt badly?” His gravely voice seems to surprise you, and quickly you shake your head. He sees you regret it instantly, as you wince harshly afterwards.

“Just my head, and my leg. But not nearly as bad as you are.”

Another crack shoots through the space, and you look up worryingly at the unsteady beams ominously hanging about you. Shouto can see them looming when the light flickers on again. He can also see you. You look a little rough, he’s not going to lie. But at this moment, he doesn’t think he’s seen anyone more beautiful. His own personal angel, sent to comfort him and protect him when he’s been hurt so badly he can’t move.

You make quiet conversation after that, trying to ignore the drips and the cracks. He learns that you’re an ordinary boring office worker, your words not his, but you like your job and your coworkers so it’s not that bad. You learn that Deku has been his best friend since their first year at U.A., and that friendship is still just as strong. He learns that you don’t particularly care for cold soba whenever he brings it up, which makes him look at you in mock horror. It’s funny, seeing the normally stoic hero make such an exaggerated face that you can’t help but giggle.

The conversation dies down after a sickening pop! is heard and suddenly sunlight blinds you both. Looking up, you see shocking red hair and sharp teeth grinning at you and feel relief course through your body. Shouto feels your body relax against his, though you don’t let go. Red Riot reaches for you, but you shake your head again.

“Take Shouto, take Shouto.”

As he is lifted from your arms and into his friends, he sees you smile at him tearfully and give him a little wave. He can see you fully now, and can also see how your leg is bent at such an unnatural angle it had to be agonizing for you, but he never once heard you complain. The last thing he sees before you’re out of sight is Bakugo lifting you into his arms, with a surprising gentleness, saying something that has you nodding before you rest your head on his bare shoulder, relieved tears flooding from your eyes.

A couple days later, as Shouto is scrolling aimlessly through his phone in his hospital bed, he sees a headline that makes him stop.

PRO HERO SHOUTO KEEPS CIVILIAN SAFE WHILE TRAPPED UNDER COLLAPSED BUILDING!

Thinking of your eyes, which so bravely stared into his own, he can’t help but disagree with the article. It was you who kept him safe.

[ryin-silverfish]

A side-by-side comparison of Nezha's backstory in JTTW and FSYY

(Sth I've been working on for a while, as quick reference material for Nezha's story in the two novels specifically that doesn't go into the broader mythos.)

JTTW's Nezha:

-Born with the characters "Ne/Na" on one hand, and "Zha" on the other

-Has 2 older brothers and 1 younger sister: Jinzha, who worked as a guardian deity and attendant of the Buddha, Mucha, who was the disciple of Guanyin, and Li Zhenying, who's said to be 7 years old in JTTW (Chapter 83).

-There's also Diyong/Lady Earth Flow, the adopted mice sister that had eaten the Buddha's candle, was captured by Li Jing and Nezha, and spared on the Buddha's order.

-She shows up in Chapter 80, as a demoness who kidnapped Tripitaka for the purpose of marriage, and is subsequently recaptured to face celestial judgement.

-Three days after his birth, Nezha went off into an unknown ocean, stepped on a crystal palace and toppled it, and caught a flood dragon to use its tendon as a belt

-After that, Li Jing tried to kill him for being a menace, and Nezha did the "Return his flesh and bones to his parents" thing in anger

-His soul then drifted off to the Buddha's place, who performed the Lotus Resurrection Thing by reciting a mantra

-He then subdued 96 caves of demons, and went after Li Jing to take revenge for the "forced suicide" thing

-Li Jing pleaded to the Buddha for help, who gave him a pagoda with Buddhas sculptured on every level, and told Nezha to call the Buddha (on the pagoda) as his father from now on.

-The weapons he used in his Three-headed Six-Armed Form: The Demon-slaying Sword + Demon-cutting Blade, Demon-binding Rope + Demon-subduing Vajra, Embroidered Ball, Fire Wheel (held in his hand)

FSYY's Nezha:

-Is the reincarnation of Taiyi's oldest disciple, Spirit Pearl/Lingzhu Zi

-Is destined to be the Vanguard of the Zhou army in the upcoming War of the Investiture

-Has 2 brothers: Jinzha, disciple of Wenshu Guangfa Tianzun, and Muzha, disciple of Sage Puxian. (FSYY's quirk of making popular Buddhist deities into Daoist sages in a trenchcoat is at play again.)

-Mother was pregnant with him for three years, gave birth to a ball of flesh

-Jumps out of the ball of flesh when Li Jing cuts it open, wearing his Qiankun Ring as a bracelet, Huntian Sash wrapped around his stomach

-Was immediately taken by Taiyi as a disciple the next day, who told Li Jing that, born in the hour of Chou, Nezha is destined to break 1700 prohibitions against killing

-A 6 ft tall 7-years old (FSYY's sense of scale is really weird, like all old novels)

-Asked to go out and play in the river during summertime, unknowingly created a shockwave in the water with his sash that shook Ao Guang's palace in the East Sea.

-Ao Guang sent a Yaksha to check it out. Nezha sassed the Yaksha, who attacked him in a fury and got insta-killed.

-Ao Guang's soldiers reported the Yaksha's death. Ao Bing overheard the whole thing, asked to go deal with this random brat, and was granted permission by his father.

-Ao Bing rode out of the waves on his steed, and went "Who are you, sassy lost child, and did you just kill my Yaksha?!" And Nezha was like "Yeah, so what? Talk shit, get hit."

-Ao Bing charged Nezha with his weapon in a fury, got dragged down his steed by the sash, and was promptly bonked on the head by the Qiankun Ring, which reverted him to his dragon form.

-Nezha then pulled out his tendons to make a belt for Li Jing's armor and returned to Chentang Pass. Furious, Ao Guang hurried his way to Li Jing's mansion and accused him for the whole multiple homicide thing.

-Li Jing's first reaction was "My kid's only 7 and never goes out of the door, he can't possibly kill yours!" Then, when he indeed asked Nezha, Nezha flat-out admits it and went out to meet Ao Guang like "Yeah, sorry, doesn't know that's your kid. Anyways, here's his tendons, undamaged and untouched."

-Ao Guang, unsurprisingly, did not take it well and stormed off to press charges to the JE. Faced with his angry crying parents, Nezha also knew he had fucked up, and went to his master Taiyi for help.

-Taiyi's advice? Go ambush the dragon king on his way to complain to the JE and beat him up, mobster-style. Which Nezha promptly did, forcing Ao Guang to turn into a little snake and stay in his sleeves, to be carried back to Chentang Pass.

-The beatdown does not convince Ao Guang not to press charges. In fact, he said he'd get the other dragon kings of the Four Seas to press charges together. Li Jing raged at Nezha again, who assured him that it was alright, like, his master said he was destined to assist some Sage King and stuff.

-He then wandered into the back garden, picked up the Qiankun Bow and Sky-shaking Arrows of the Yellow Emperor that were, uh, just kept there in the family attic, and decided to do some archery practice.

-Sadly, he didn't know how far that arrow would go. It flew all the way to the White Bone Cave, abode of Lady Shiji the Rock Demoness, and went straight through the throat of one of her two disciples, the Verdant Cloud Boy.

-Since Li Jing also carved his name onto the arrow (…), Lady Shiji headed immediately to his place and whisked him away with her treasure, the Eight Trigrams Hankerchief.

-At her place, Li Jing pleaded that he really didn't do it, since the Qiankun Bow was a mystical ancient weapon no one could use in a long, long time, and Shiji released him back to Chentang Pass to find the true culprit. At which point he put two and two together, found out it was Nezha again, and told him to go answer to Shiji together with him.

-Nezha, who did not think this was his fault, smacked Shiji's other disciple, the Colored Cloud Boy on the head with his Qiankun Ring, when he came out of the cave on his master's orders. Shiji was even less happy about that, took his weapons away with a single swipe of her sleeves, then chased him all the way to Taiyi's place.

-At which point Taiyi was like "Well, if you want Nezha to pay for his crimes, how about we go to the Jade Emptiness Palace together and let my master (Yuanshi Tianzun) sort it out?" Shiji refused, stating that he was just using his master's authority to lord over her and unfairly protect his disciple.

-Taiyi then revealed the Chan-Jie division that would later become a huge thing in the War of Investiture, and basically went "Sorry that your student died in Nezha's archery accident, Lady Shiji, but it is literally Fated to Happen, which means you totally shouldn't be mad at me or him."

-Shiji did not buy that explanation at all, and they fought. Taiyi blocked her hankerchief when she tried to use it, then threw the Nine Fire Dragon Bell Cover over her head, burning her to death and reverting her to her true form——a rock.

-Taiyi then informed Nezha that with JE's permission, Ao Guang had gathered the other dragon kings to go after Nezha's parents. Nezha begged him to save them, and his advice was...well, "kill yourself and the dragon kings will let them go". Literally.

-So Nezha did, which was very graphically described in the novel, after which his soul drifted off to Taiyi's place.

-Taiyi told him to go to his mother and tell her to build a temple for him at Mt. Cuiping. He did, and Lady Yin woke up from her dream crying.

-Upon learning the reason why, Li Jing yelled at her for crying after Nezha had brought all these troubles upon their family. Nezha's soul then haunted her in her dreams for a week or so, until she finally relented and built him a temple in secret.

-Half a year later, Li Jing found out about the temple while Nezha's soul was out and away for some unknown reasons. In a fit of rage, he smashed Nezha's statue and burned the temple down (I talk about how this resembles the destruction of 淫祠, illicit cults in IRL history here).

-Nezha returned to his temple only to find it in ruins, at which point he went back to Taiyi, who did the Lotus Resurrection thing and gave him back his weapons, together with a new spear, the Wind-Fire Wheels and a golden brick.

-Nezha immediately rushed back to Chentang Pass to take revenge, stating that after the whole "returning his flesh and blood" thing, they were basically unrelated and didn't owe each other anything, so he was perfectly justified to go after Li Jing for the destruction of his temple.

-They fought. Li Jing, quickly exhausted, turned tail and fled using the Daoist arts of Earth Travel, at which point he ran into Muzha. While they were talking, Nezha caught up with them.

-Muzha was like "How dare you!" and Nezha replied with "Who the hell are you?" Only after Muzha said his name out loud did he recognize his brother and recount the whole story.

-Muzha retorted that "Parents can do no wrong". Nezha pointed out that after his suicide, they were no longer father and son, and told him to stand aside.

-Muzha whipped out his sword to fight him. Concerned that Li Jing might get away in the meantime, Nezha threw his golden brick at Muzha, hitting him in the back and knocking him down.

-The chase continued. Li Jing, knowing that he couldn't run away forever, was ready to commit suicide instead of facing the disgrace of being struck down by his son.

-However, Jinzha's master, Wenshu, suddenly showed up to rescue him. Nezha demanded that Wenshu release Li Jing from his abode, and if he didn't, he'd poke three holes in Wenshu instead.

"And who are you, to make such claims?"

"I am Nezha, disciple of Master Taiyi!"

"Never heard of you. You can throw a tantrum elsewhere, but not here, and if you keep this up, you are in for a spanking."

-Nezha attacked him. In return, Wenshu unleashed his treasure, the Flying Dragon Pillar, tying Nezha onto it. He then summoned Jinzha, handed him a walking stick, and told Jinzha to give him a good whipping.

-Then Taiyi showed up to rescue him, telling Nezha to bow to Wenshu, his Daoist uncle (Context: Taiyi and Wenshu are both among the 12 Immortals of the Chan Sect), and scolded Li Jing a bit for the temple-burning thing.

-Then he told the two to get along and go their separate ways. Nezha was delighted, seeing it as basically a free pass to resume his revenge the moment he was out of his master's sight, and indeed, he did.

-Then Sage Randeng (also of the Chan Sect) showed up, gave Li Jing a buff, and told him to fight Nezha again. Nezha, having witnessed the whole thing and reached an impasse in the fight, attacked Randeng in an attempt to disable the buff.

-Randeng was not happy about this "unprovoked" attack on an innocent bystander, so he dropped a pagoda out of his sleeves and onto Nezha, trapping him inside.

-On Randeng's command, flames ignited inside the pagoda. At last, Nezha pleaded for the sage to release him, under the condition that he'd call Li Jing father (grrrr grrrr) again.

-He was planning to pull a second "resume patricide arc" the moment Randeng left, until the sage gave the pagoda to Li Jing and told them to go back to Chentang Pass and Taiyi's place respectively, to wait until the War of Investiture formally began.

-And they did: Nezha was sent to rescue Huang Feihu during his escape from the Five Passes in Chapter 34, while Li Jing only showed up much later in Chapter 64, to kill a fleeing Luo Xuan after he got all of his fire-based treasures neutralized and taken away by Princess Longji.

-I will not do a full campaign-by-campaign summary of Nezha's performance in the War of Investiture proper, for this post is already long enough.

-The broadest overview: together with his senior Daoist brother Yang Jian, Nezha was one of the biggest powerhouses on the Chan/Zhou side.

-His total kill count in the novel (only counting the named/deified ones) is 15, which is actually more than Yang Jian's (12-13).

-Much like Yang Jian, he was often the one who survived lethal attacks and AOE plague spells while the others were taken out. His lotus body also made him impervious to spells and treasures that work directly on the soul, usually by pulling it out of the body.

-After suffering an injury from the Blood-melting Knife of Yu Hua/his master Yu Yuan, Nezha was given his final power-up at Taiyi's place via three cups of wine and three "fire jujubes", enabling him to transform into his Three-headed, Eight-armed Form.

-At the end of the novel, Nezha, together with Li Jing, Jinzha, Muzha, Yang Jian, Weihu and Lei Zhenzi, became "Sages in Flesh"——which I understood as "a better sort of gods/immortals that don't receive their godhood via death and deification".

-The 6+ weapons he has: Qiankun Ring, Huntian Sash, Fire-tipped Spear, Golden Brick, Wind-Fire Wheel (in its most popular "hot wheels" depiction), Yin-Yang Swords, Nine Fire Dragon Bell Cover

[doormatty3]

Ocean Eyes: Chapter 6 (Orm Marius x Reader)

Masterlist Ao3

Ocean Eyes Masterlink

Summary:

[Orm Marius x Female Reader] [Orm Marius x You]

The ocean has always fascinated you - the ebb and flow of its water, the marine life in the sea and the wild and untamed beauty it exudes. Your attempts to explain this fascination have always fallen short. But when you meet Orm at the seaside one rainy day you find, that he just understands.  You offer to show him around since he is not from the city. And you are intrigued by his rather strange quirks and his regal demeanour.  After all, how could you not? When his eyes mirror the ocean itself, deep and incredibly blue. OR: You impress Orm with the surface world and he impresses you with his Atlantean cock

Wordcount: 4964

A/N: I'm just feral for our fish boy (man) so here is more smut

The dawn of the new day bathes the room in a gentle glow as you and Orm find yourselves immersed in a quiet breakfast. The lingering echoes of your heartfelt conversations from the night before have cast a new light on your connection. The bond between you and Orm feels different, somehow deeper and more profound.

Seated across from each other, the tranquillity of the morning is interrupted only by the soft clinking of utensils and the occasional sip of coffee or tea. 

You enjoy the peaceful mornings with him, and he is now even more eager to learn about the surface world. And that also includes making breakfast and cooking - and you enjoy that a lot.

To you, it feels like Orm has allowed himself to explore the surface world properly after his revelation. It’s not just about adapting to the unfamiliar customs or navigating the bustling streets; there’s a genuine curiosity in his eyes, a thirst for understanding the intricacies of the world beyond the ocean’s depths.

You made a rich breakfast this morning together. You find joy in guiding him through the art culinary arts, introducing him to the aromas and flavours of the surface world. 

There’s a unique pleasure in witnessing Orm’s curiosity unfold, in seeing him navigate the ingredients and utensils with a mix of concentration and enthusiasm. His genuine interest in the intricacies of cooking mirrors his approach to understanding the surface world – with an open heart and a willingness to embrace the unknown with you.

As your gaze wanders around the table, you notice a conspicuous absence - the sea glass you found just a few days ago. A subtle furrow forms on your brow as you scan the tabletop, realising that the vibrant piece of sea glass is nowhere to be found. 

Turning to Orm, who is still seated across from you, you inquire, “Have you seen that sea glass we found a few days ago? I can’t seem to find it.”

Orm glances around the table, his eyes scanning the surface, and the corners of his lips curve into a thoughtful expression. “No, I haven’t seen it. Did you misplace it?”

You shake your head, a touch of concern in your eyes. “I don’t think so. I remember placing it right here on the table after we found it. It’s strange that it’s gone.”

“I’m sure you will find it again at some point,” Orm says, smiling and taking a sip of his tea.

He pauses, taking a moment to savour the warmth of the morning sunlight streaming through the windows. The subtle play of light and shadow creates a gentle ambience, casting a soft glow on Orm’s features. His eyes, still reflecting the profound depths of the ocean, meet yours with a newfound softness. It’s a gaze that speaks of vulnerability, trust, and a willingness to share the intricacies of his past.

“You know Atlantis is unlike anything you’ve ever seen,” Orm begins, his voice carrying a touch of reverence. “Imagine a world beneath the waves, where the play of sunlight creates a mesmerising dance of colours. The coral reefs, vibrant and alive, house a myriad of sea creatures, each more breathtaking than the last.”

As he speaks, you find yourself captivated by the vivid imagery he paints. Orm’s words weave a tapestry of beauty, and you can almost envision the underwater city he describes. The way he talks about Atlantis transcends the factual details; it’s a testament to his genuine love for his home.

“The architecture is unparalleled, with structures crafted from living coral, adorned with bioluminescent patterns that come alive at night. The city itself breathes, pulsating with the energy of the ocean. And the Atlantean technology is beyond anything the surface world has ever known,” Orm continues, his enthusiasm evident.

As he shares these details, you can’t help but feel a sense of wonder and awe. Orm’s eyes sparkle with a passion that goes beyond duty; it’s a profound connection to a place he holds dear. You feel privileged to catch a glimpse of the depth of his love for Atlantis and its people.

“Orm, it sounds absolutely incredible,” you respond, your own eyes reflecting the genuine appreciation for his description. “I can almost picture it.”

Orm continues, his eyes unwaveringly fixed on yours. “You know, I’ve never visited the surface world before. Atlantis has always been my home, and I never felt the need to explore what lay beyond the waves.”

His words carry a hint of vulnerability, and you can sense that this revelation is something deeply personal to him. 

“But circumstances changed,“ Orm continues, his gaze never leaving yours. “I found myself more or less forced to the surface, and it was a world vastly different from what I’d known. It was overwhelming, chaotic, and yet, there was a strange allure to it.”

You listen attentively, a warmth spreading through you as he bares this part of his soul. 

“I could have gone back to Atlantis and resumed my life as it was by now. But being on the surface, I discovered a different perspective, a different way of life. There was a freedom here that intrigued me,” Orm admits, his voice laced with a mix of contemplation and revelation, “Here, I can be more than the former king of Atlantis who became obsessed with becoming the Ocean Master and killed without mercy.”

Your eyes lock with his, and you can feel the intensity of his gaze, and a blush creeps onto your cheeks.

“It wasn’t just the surface world that captivated me,“ Orm continues, his tone softening with a touch of sincerity. “It was the people, the diversity, the complexity of their lives. And then, of course, there was you .”

The admission catches you off guard, and your blush deepens. The vulnerability in Orm’s eyes reflects the sincerity of his words, and you can’t help but feel a flutter in your chest.

“Meeting you changed everything. It made me question my convictions, my place in both worlds,” Orm confesses, a rare vulnerability in his voice.

Without hesitation, you reach across the table, your hand finding his. The touch is gentle, a reassurance that transcends words. “Orm, I’m honoured that you chose to share this with me. And I’m glad you stayed.”

His fingers entwine with yours, a silent acknowledgement of the connection that has grown between you. 

As he softly tugs you closer by the hand, there’s a magnetic pull that you gladly surrender to. The warmth of his touch, the intertwining of your fingers, and the unspoken understanding create a moment of intimacy.

Your eyes meet, and Orm’s hand, initially holding yours, gently wanders to the small of your back, creating a subtle but electric trail. The soft brush of his fingers against your clothed skin sends shivers down your spine.

He leans in, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that carries the weight of unspoken emotions. The lingering taste of breakfast, with the soft pressure of his lips, creates a heady mixture that intoxicates your senses.

As the kiss deepens, your hands find their way to his shoulders, fingers threading through his hair, pulling him closer. The embrace is both gentle and fervent, a reflection of the emotions swirling between you.

In the quiet of the morning, the world outside fades away, leaving only the two of you locked in a tender exchange. 

Orm’s lips part from yours, but the closeness remains. His forehead rests against yours, and you can feel the warmth of his breath mingling with yours. The unspoken words hang in the air, a silent acknowledgement of the depth of this moment.

“You’re amazing,” he murmurs, his voice a gentle caress. The sincerity in his words adds another layer to the shared intimacy. In response, you smile, a silent affirmation of the mutual feelings that have bloomed between you.

The initial tenderness evolves into a passionate dance, each kiss building upon the last, creating a symphony of shared desires.

Orm’s lips, once gentle, now press against yours with a hunger that mirrors the intensity of the emotions swirling between you. There’s a primal urgency in the way his hands explore, mapping the curves of your body as if committing every contour to memory. It’s a silent declaration of longing, an unspoken desire that propels intimacy to new heights.

Your fingers find their way through his hair, weaving into the strands. The sensation is electric, a tactile connection that amplifies the heat between you. Orm’s hands, skilled and confident, explore the canvas of your body, tracing pathways of pleasure that send shivers through your entire being.

Orm’s lips, warm and fervent, begin a trail of open-mouthed kisses along your jawline and down your neck. Each kiss is an echo of desire, leaving a searing mark in its wake. His actions speak of an unrestrained passion, a silent promise of a connection that goes beyond words.

As his lips meet your skin, a soft moan escapes your lips, a testament to the pleasure that courses through your veins. The feeling of his warm breath, coupled with the gentle suction of each kiss, creates an intoxicating symphony of desire.

You revel in the sensations, the mingling of pleasure and a subtle hint of pain as his kisses leave their mark. 

Orm’s murmurs between the heated kisses are a symphony of desire and revelation. His lips alternate between tender caresses and hungry urgency.

“This feels so much better than underwater, in Atlantis,” Orm confesses, the words a sultry undertone to the already heated atmosphere. 

His eyes, once a captivating ocean blue, have transformed into a darker, more mysterious hue, blown wide by arousal. The dim light of the room catches the glistening intensity in his gaze.

Orm’s hands, now firmly cradling your face, guide the rhythm of the kiss. His touch is both possessive and tender, a reflection of the depth of emotion that underscores this intimate moment. 

“I can taste you,” Orm’s words, whispered and fervent, punctuate the heated exchange as he bites your bottom lip, “I can feel you so much more intensive.”

The sensation sends a shiver down your spine, and you mewl in response, pressing yourself further against his thick, powerful body. 

You feel his cock, long and hard, lodged against you as he continues to devour you. 

A deep growl escapes his lips when you grind your hips, and it makes you want to hear more - feel more. Make him lose his control.

The urgency in the air intensifies, and almost frantic, you press against Orm, seeking a closeness that borders on desperation. The shared desire has reached a fever pitch, and in the heat of the moment, you break the kiss, trailing your lips along his jaw and down to his neck. The taste of his skin, the pulse of his arousal, and the scrap of his stubble against your lips, all fuel the urgency that courses through both of you.

As the kisses descend, you find yourself sinking to your knees in front of him. 

The shift in dynamics is palpable, the air charged with anticipation and need. Orm, looking down at you with dark, hungry eyes, is a potent embodiment of desire. 

Your hands find purchase on Orm’s hips, fingers digging into the fabric of his pants. The intensity of the moment is reflected in the way your touch conveys both urgency and reverence. The proximity to him, the scent of his arousal, ignites a hunger that propels you forward.

With a sense of purpose, you trail kisses along the line of his hip, your hands working to undo the belt that holds his pants. The air is thick with anticipation as you navigate the fabric, revealing more of his heated skin. The subtle gasp that escapes him in response to your actions adds another layer to the charged atmosphere.

With one determined tuck, you pull down his pants, leaving him in his briefs. 

His hard cock strains against the material, and you lick your lips in anticipation. He is big - probably the biggest you’ve ever had, both long and thick. There is a wet spot around the fabric at the head of his dick where he has already leaked precum. 

You trail your fingers over the outline and feel him throb under your fingertips. 

Above you, Orm lets out a low moan that makes all the hair on your body stand up. 

Determined, you hook your fingers in the waistband of his underwear and free his cock. He really is thick and long, darker than his skin, a drop of precum glistening on the head. 

As if on autopilot, you wrap your hand around him experimentally, not fully able to close your fist, and he bucks his hips into your hand.

You lick a long strip from the base to the head, making sure to swirl your tongue around and catch the precum, moaning at the salty, musky taste of him. In response, Orm’s thighs tense, and he groans low in his throat.

His reaction spurs you on again - you want him to lose control, to show him how good it feels to have his cock sucked on the surface.

So you take more of him in your mouth and moan around his length as you feel him heavy and hot on your tongue.

With your hand, you pump the base of his dick as you bob your head. Every now and then, a groan or a low moan escapes Orm, and you can’t help but revel in those sounds, so you continue your ministrations.

When you feel his cock twitch, you pull off.

“Fuck, please,” his voice is hoarse and strained as he pleads.

Choosing to ignore it, you lick the vein on the underside of his dick from the base to the top before swirling your tongue around the head and taking him deeper again.

Orm mutters a few curse words and tangles his hand in your hair, pulling you off his cock to stare at you.

His eyes are dark - darker than you have ever seen them - and a subtle flush has risen to cover his neck and cheeks. 

When your eyes meet, you clench your thighs involuntarily. Seeing him like this turns you on beyond belief. Finally, you have him unrestrained and hungry, and fuck you like it. 

When he tightens his grip on your hair and pushes you to his cock again, you open your mouth willingly, taking him in as he moves your head up and down.

You feel his tip at the back of your throat and tears pricking your eyes, but you are determined to take him in completely and let him fuck your mouth as he wants.

With a steady and unforgiving grip, he pushes your head down further, his cock slipping into your throat. Only due to sheer willpower do you suppress a gag as he forces you to take him so deep.

When he lets out a deep, throaty, guttural moan, you feel like you could cum only from that sight and sound. 

The lack of oxygen is getting to you slowly, so you bob your head, moving his cock down your throat before almost pulling off and sucking in a deep breath. As you catch your breath, you swirl your tongue around his tip and suck on it.

Orm’s grip on your hair tightens again, his thick fingers curling around the strands almost painfully. He holds your head in place, and his eyes lock onto yours when he starts to move his hips.

At first, he only thrusts shallowly, testing out if you’re comfortable with it, but then he starts with deeper pushes of his hips. When his dick breaches your throat again, you moan around it as your eyes flutter closed as your throat spasms around his length.

He fucks your mouth almost painfully slow, dragging his thick cock in and out of your throat, using you in a way that he likes before pushing it in completely until your nose is pressed against his stomach. 

Orm does it again, but this time he picks up the speed and almost slams his cock so deep it aches and holds your head down as you gasp around it.

When he pulls you back by your hair, you feel like you see starts, strings of thick spit connecting your lips to the tip of his dick.

He allows you one proper gasp of cool air before he starts fucking your face in earnest.

“You feel so good,” Orm groans as he thrusts in your mouth. 

Each stroke goes deep as you try to find a rhythm to breathe around him, the edges of your vision going hazy and dark. 

He pushes his dick to the hilt down your throat, and you can’t help but moan around him again.

Your cunt throbs, and you feel yourself getting wetter and wetter with every thrust of his cock in your mouth. Never in a thousand years had you thought that this turns you on so much - if any of your exes had suggested it, you would have probably broken up with them. 

But with Orm, it feels so good. You don’t mind him using your mouth, fucking it with hard and deep strokes - you rather like it. 

You feel drool dripping from the corner of your mouth as he mercilessly shoves his dick inside your throat before pulling out and doing it again. 

“You look so beautiful like this. Wrapped around my dick - all drooling and willing,” you hear his husky voice through the haze of your thoughts as he marvels at the way you take him.

His praise surges through your veins, encouraging you even more to please him so you focus on your breathing as you take him.  

Orm’s pace is fast and hard. You’re sure your throat will hurt like hell later, but it’s so worth it. 

When you feel his hips stutter and the muscles in his stomach tightening, you know that he’s close. So you run your tongue along the underside of his dick as he thrusts, determined to make him finish.

With a loud and reverberating groan, he thrusts down your throat again, holding you there before yanking you off again and wrapping his hand around his cock, pumping it.

Instinctively, you open your mouth, sticking your tongue out while looking up at him.

Seconds later, Orm cums, and it’s a magnificent sight.

He tilts his head backwards, a cascade of blonde hair clinging to the nape of his neck. His lips part, releasing a sigh that carries the weight of ecstasy. The room, dimly lit, accentuates the play of shadows on his chiselled features. 

The subtle glisten of sweat on his skin adds a sheen to his form, accentuating the contours of his powerful physique. 

Thick ropes of cum land in your mouth and face as you sit there and take it. You taste the salty tang of his cum on your tongue as he fills your mouth.

When he’s finished, his eyes, now clouded with desire, lock onto yours, and he watches you intently as you close your mouth and swallow his cum.

Orm’s gaze remains fixed on you, a mixture of awe, adoration, and desire swirling in the depths of his mesmerising blue eyes. It’s a captivating combination that holds you in its thrall as if you’re the most enticing spectacle he’s ever witnessed.

In the glow of the dim light, every detail becomes a masterpiece of desire - his tousled hair, the beads of water on his skin, the curve of his jawline - all contributing to the visual symphony of this shared ecstasy.

Gently, you tuck him back into his pants after cleaning him up, and Orm pulls you to stand by the hand entwined in your hair.

He pulls you to kiss him, and there is a sense of urgency behind it. When he devours you, you are sure he ought to taste himself on your tongue, but he doesn’t seem to mind. It’s a pleasant difference from the other guys you’ve been with.

The kiss is fervent, passionate, and unapologetically possessive.

His hands, now tracing soothing patterns on your back, are both tender and firm.

Orm breaks the kiss, his oceanic eyes locking onto yours with a renewed intensity. A whispered declaration escapes his lips, “That was… magnificent. You are magnificent.”

You meet his gaze, and a smile tugs at the corners of your lips. 

“It was my pleasure, Orm,” your voice is a bit horse from having his cock down your throat.

“I wasn’t too rough, I hope? I didn’t hurt you?” Orm inquires, his eyes searching yours for any sign of discomfort, his fingers tracing soft patterns on your cheek.

A reassuring smile graces your features as you shake your head gently. “No, Orm, you were perfect. It was... beyond amazing.”

Orm’s expression softens with relief, and he places a tender kiss on your forehead, his gaze lingering on your face, which seems to be gauging your reaction. 

Leaning in, he whispers in your ear with a low voice, “Will you let me return the favour?”

You respond with a breathless mewl and clench your thighs, “Yes, please.”

With seemingly effortless strength, he lifts you as if you weigh nothing, cradling you with arms on your ass. You wrap your legs around him, savouring the width of his abdomen and the stretch as you encircle him.

He carries you to the table and gently seats you on it.

His hands find a place on your thighs, and a flicker of uncertainty colours his gaze. Sensing this, you offer reassurance, “You don’t have to if you don’t want to, Orm.”

In response, he blinks, the admission slipping out, “No, I want to. I’ve just never... so don’t be disappointed, please.”

A warm smile graces your lips as you reach out, placing your hand tenderly on his cheek, “I’ll be here. Your willing practice object until you’ve mastered it - I won’t complain.”

His fingers on your thighs tighten, digging into your skin, and you detect a feral glint in his eyes, making you moan.

He opens your pants, and you lift your hips so he can pull them down, leaving you in your underwear before sliding your legs over his shoulders. His palms lingerie on the tender skin of your thighs, warm and gentle.

His gaze is set on your cunt, and you’re sure there is a wet spot because of how aroused you are.

Gently, he trails his finger over your clothed cunt and looks at you.

You moan when he grazes your clit with his fingertips. Spurred on by your reaction, he repeats the motion a few times until you whine and beg, “Please, Orm.”

Showing some pity, he just rips your panties away unexpectedly, making you gasp when the cold air hits your soaked pussy.

He scoots in closer and trails a finger through the lips of your cunt.

“Shit, you’re so wet,” he groans, holding his finger up to show you as it glistens in the ambient light.

He does it again, scraping your clit in the progress, making you moan and buck your hips. Every touch of his thick, strong fingers on your exposed skin feels like fire erupting from the spot and spreading through your veins.

“Is all that from just sucking my cock?” Orm asks, his voice low and raspy, dripping with arousal.

“Yes, Orm,” you whimper, too far gone to be embarrassed about anything, “All for you.”

With a husky curse on his lips, he scoots closer and licks a broad stripe over your cunt. 

You both moan simultaneously - you at the feeling of his tongue and him at the taste of you.

Almost as on instinct, you bury your hands in his hair, gripping the strands with your fingers.

And then his mouth is on you for good, and every thought slips from your mind. He experimentally swirls a single circle around your clit, applying slight pressure and suction.

You cry out under him, your fingers tightening their grip on his hair as you buck your hips. In response, his big hand comes to lay on your stomach to hold you down.

Orm tastes you with another wide, long lick, making your back arch off the table involuntarily. 

He eats you out achingly slow, testing what makes you squirm, shiver and arche beneath him. Occasionally, he moans or groans, the vibrations racing through your whole body, adding to the sensation. 

With tiny movements, he licks your cunt with the broad flat of his tongue against your cunt before moving upwards to your clit.

When you scream, he hooks his arms around you, pulling you even closer to his eager mouth.

“So good, Orm,” you whimper, consumed by the sensations. Railed up from sucking his cock, you know you’re already close, and it won’t take much to push you over the edge.

His licks turn even more desperate, and you feel a toe-curling orgasm approaching.  Working his tongue and jaw against your pussy, his nose bumps against your clit, adding to the delicious sensation. You know that he must be covered in your wetness, and the thought turns you on even more.

Euphoria shoots up your spine, and you roll your hips into him for more. 

Your cunt flutters, clenching around his tongue. You scream, your thighs dropping completely open in surrounder. He sucks on your clit, and you’re gone.

With his name on your lips, you cum, your body arching off the table as you flood his tongue. 

You try to catch your breath and come down when he suddenly sinks two of his thick fingers into your wet cunt. The stretch is magnificent, and when he curls them to hit that perfect spot, you scream again, your body spasming. 

“Come on, give me one more,” his voice is deep, and you feel his breath against your cunt, “I love the way you taste. Can’t get enough of it.”

His tongue continues to swirl circles around your clit, alternating with sucking the bud into his warm mouth.

If you weren’t sure if you can cum again, now you are. 

Especially, when he moves his other hand to your breast, placing his large palm over it. 

You feel the throbbing of your pussy and clit, pleasure spreading through your whole body again. Like flames licking every nerve of you.

Orm rolls his thumb over your stiff nipples, squeezing them.

It doesn’t take much for you, and he has you twisting your hips into his mouth a few minutes later, your hand falling from the grip in his hair.

His fingers curl again, finding the perfect angle. 

You feel like your head is aflame, scorching you from the inside out as you’re burning down.

This time, you come with a guttural cry, blacking out for a second, the letters of his name loosening on your tongue and the scream dying in your throat as Orm wrings you dry, eager not to miss a drop.

When your senses return, you hear distantly how obscenely sloppy your wet cunt sounds as he continues to pump his fingers. 

Your eyes flutter open as you blink a few times, trying to catch your breath, and you prop yourself up on one elbow to behold the captivating sight that is Orm between your legs.

His hair is ruffled and dishevelled, and the cerulean depths of his eyes, once filled with desire, now gaze up at you with a bright gleam. The morning light, gentle and soft, bathes his features, creating a subtle chiaroscuro that accentuates the contours of his face. Courtesy of you, his neck and chin are wet and glisten in the light.

He gives you a cheeky wink and lowers his mouth to kiss your cunt one last time before pulling back completely.

“Jesus Christ, Orm,” you laugh breathlessly, your legs feeling like jelly and your heart stuttering in your chest. If that is him not knowing how to eat out a woman, you’re afraid to feel what he can do to you once he considers himself good at that.

He rises from between your legs, a radiant smile adorning his face as he leans in to kiss you. The salty tang of yourself lingers on his lips, and you can feel the wetness on your chin and neck. The kiss is a brief yet sweet moment, soft and tender, leaving an electric warmth lingering between you.

“Would you like to visit Atlantis sometime?” he asks against your lips, his voice a blend of sincerity and anticipation. His eyes, a captivating blend of blue hues, search yours for any hint of interest or hesitation.

The idea of witnessing the mythical city beneath the waves stirs a sense of curiosity within you. Atlantis, a place shrouded in mystery and wonder, suddenly feels within reach. The invitation extends beyond the physical realm; it’s an invitation to explore a part of Orm’s identity, a glimpse into the world that shaped him.

Your gaze meets his, and a genuine smile graces your lips. “I... I’d like that,” you reply, the excitement and nervousness evident in your voice.

Orm’s eyes light up with a mixture of satisfaction and anticipation. “Good. I think you’ll find it breathtaking.” His words carry a promise, a commitment to sharing a part of his world with you.

“It gave me you,“ you smile, your hand gently caressing his cheek, “How can it not be magnificent.”

He smiles, a genuine warmth in his eyes. “We’ll take it slow. There’s so much I want to share with you, and I want you to feel at home in Atlantis.”

“I appreciate that, Orm. I’m looking forward to it,” you respond, your own smile mirroring his warmth.

[fanaticsnail]

Soft-Dom Buggy Headcanons

Taking a small break from my small break to bring you some headcanons! I've nearly completed my little crochet project, so I'll be back at it again shortly!!

Word Count: 710 (just some wee little thoughts)

(@sordidmusings, thank you for listening to my thoughts. Had to flesh them out and share them)

Masterlist here.

Going about completing duties as a crewman of the Buggy-Pirates, a small cindering infatuation develops within you every time your Captain does something slightly dominantly-leaning.

-

Elbows deep into the soapy water, you grasped another damp copper plate within your hands and scrub at the metal to rid it of all remnants of food. Your hair continued to fall into your face every time you looked at the plate rolling throughout your fingertips. You tried swinging your neck back to flip it, only for the strands to immediately fall back into your eyes.

You puffed out a breath of frustration, blowing at the strands that fell into your face as you made to continue scrubbing at the dishes.

Two hands rake through your hair from behind in a firm grip, starting at the temples of your head and falling back to the nape of your neck; collecting the disobedient strands away from your face and being balled within a singular fist of an unknown person behind you.

"I got you, doll-face," whispered your Captain into your neck as he expertly collected your hair and began securing it within a leather strap. You felt your body stiffen, completely halting your ability to complete your chore as he touched you; tingles shooting through your body at his firm and confident grip.

After securing the strands away from your face, your Captain hummed out in approval before turning to leave.

He halted his step, turning immediately back to you; "oh shit, pumpkin. Should've asked if you wanted your hair tied up first."

"I-its f-fine," you managed to stutter through your fluster.

"Oh, good," buggy sighed, turning again away from you to exit the kitchens in the big top.

You were left immobilized, shocked at your captain's actions with rapid heartbeat booming in your chest. Shaking off the thought, you continued your chore with a warm, rosey blush peppering your cheeks in your fluster.

-

“Listen, Cabaji,” you began, a small frown adorning your brow, “I squabbed the deck yesterday, and I’ll be absolutely damned if I have to do it again. I don’t care what the captain says.”

“What was that?” called the booming voice of the Captain close to the steering rudder.

Buggy stalks over with a small spurt of extreme confidence towards you.

"Get on your knees," he demands softly, flicking your chin with his gloved right hand. Immediately, you sink to the floor under the buckling of your knees; obediently bending your will to the infamous Clown-Captain.

Buggy, extremely taken aback takes a moment to collect himself, uttering quietly to himself; "that actually fucking worked? Hm.”

-

As both a spurt of confidence and an open act of defiance at how your captain was directing you lately, you hardened your resolve and decided to go ahead with your arrangement of clothes for the day: a striped, low cut white and muted-red cropped waistcoat, a yellow-mustard coloured neckerchief; tanned, tight leather pants hugging the curvature of your ass as you sauntered confidentially swaying your hips into the red and white tent of the big top.

Upon spotting you, your captain quirks his brow up in question before furrowing his brows in rage.

Buggy eyes your chosen outfit for the day, infuriated at your arrangement of clothes displayed in front of his crew. He descends from the bleachers and into the ring of the circus centre.

"Hey! I'm the star! I'm the one in the spotlight! Don't you dare think you can outshine me, Pumpkin," he reprimands you, briskly stalking up to you with an intimidating aura about him. He brings his hand up to shield his lips from the others, whispering intimately: "you look perfect, Sugar. Just puttin' on a show."

You bit your lip at his show of dominance with a soft groan escaping your lips. Buggy’s eyes travelled to your mouth as his pupils dilated at your moan. The two of you immediately snapped out of your trance, shaking your heads slightly and walking away from each other to commence further duties for the day. Your captain looked over his shoulder, watching your exit from the tent; gawking at you and the hold he held over you. Something he would look to exploit for his enjoyment in the future.

[ms-fandomgirl]

BBHG: Okayu (Ch. 6)

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

Words: 3,581

Summary: A chance encounter in the Shibuya Train Station leaves you with a sore shoulder and a mysterious bento box. You’re willing to write the incident off and move on, otherwise preoccupied with navigating a new city and a new job, but a bombastic blond, meddling friend, and fate itself seem to have other plans.

Genre: Pro Hero AU, fluff, strangers to lovers, medical setting

Links: Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Masterlist | Cross-posted on Ao3!

Warning: Sickness (not life threatening)

Okayu - A simple Japanese rice porridge made of only water and rice. Known as a healing food, it is a staple to serve when someone is sick as the mild porridge is both easy on the stomach and supposed to restore energy.

Previously…

“Did I die and go to heaven? Because you look like an angel.”

The voice was weak, barely a whisper, but it sent a shock through the room nonetheless. It wasn’t Bakugou who had said that terrible pickup line, and it certainly wasn’t yourself.

You pivoted on your heel so quickly that you almost fell over, gripping the side of the bed for stability. Bakugou was just as fast, appearing at the bedside in an instant. You peered down with your mouth slightly open in awe, and electrifying yellow eyes stared right back at you.

Pro-Hero Chargebolt was awake.

He grinned up at you despite his weak state, relentless and seemingly oblivious as to why you had yet to say a word. His eyes darted over to Bakugou, and his smile broadened as he directed his next words toward the stricken blond. 

“You look a little pale right now, Bakubro. Maybe you need some vitamin me in your life to feel better.”

Bakugou spluttered in indignation, opening his mouth to no doubt berate his friend, but another voice beat him to it.

“I can’t believe the first thing I hear after waking up in this hospital is your cringe pickup lines, bro.”

You snapped your head over toward the other side of the room, eyes widening as you took in a groggy Red Riot crossing his arms in his bed.

“Kirishima!” Bakugou cried, immediately making his way over to him.

“Oh, so he gets a ‘Kirishima’ but I don’t even get a response to my amazing opener? What am I, chopped liver?” Chargebolt grumbled.

Without missing a beat, Bakogou responded. “Yes.”  

“Rude, bro. So rude.” He turned to you then, lowering his voice as though he was confiding in an old friend.  “If I’d known this is the welcome I’d get, I might as well pass out again.”

You reached out to touch his forehead on instinct, glancing at the monitor beside him as you did so. “You don’t actually feel like you are going to, do you?”

He chucked at your reaction, slightly shaking his head before wincing. “Well, I feel like I got slammed into a building, but other than that I’m just peachy. I don’t really remember how I got here though. Could you help me out, beautiful?”

You nodded over to Red Riot, catching his eye before beginning your explanation. As he turned your way, you subtly reached toward the pager clipped into your pants, pressing the button on the side of it before focusing your attention on the boys once again.

“Both of you were attacked during a public hero parade about two weeks ago by a villain, now dubbed ‘Basilisk’ by the media. His quirk allows him to inject unknown toxins within his victims which, at the very least, cause the body to shut down into a coma. However, more recent attacks have caused more severe symptoms, such as seizures and vomiting.”

The two heroes stared at you in shock, not quite believing the news you dropped on them. They briefly glanced at Bakugou, who agreed with your summary. It was then that the weight of the situation fully sunk in, and the room was left in a heavy silence. In fact, it was so silent that you easily heard the patter of footsteps rapidly echoing down the hallway. The door burst open, revealing a flustered Dr. Hiyashi.

“What’s wrong?” he gasped. Four pairs of eyes stared back at him.  

“Ah.” He straightened his coat, donning a professional demeanor before slowly walking into the room. “Pro Heroes Red Riot and Chargebolt, let me first offer you my sincerest relief that you are awake.”

Red Riot and Chargebolt accepted his statement graciously, although you noticed Chargebolt suppressing a chuckle at the doctor’s dramatic entrance.

“How are your memories? Do you know how you got here?” he asked.

Chargebolt answered first.

“Nurse-” he paused for a second, eyes filled with guilt as he realized he had no clue what your name was. You laughed it off, softly telling it to him so he could continue once he repeated it. “-filled us in on the situation. I can’t really remember much of the parade or how I got injected unfortunately, but I remember everything leading up to it.”

“Good, good.” He turned to you then, addressing you directly. “I contacted Hina to let her know of this new development. She should be here shortly, but-”

He paused his sentence to look at you, really look at you, and you felt like an organism squirming under a microscope. You straightened your spine, but you knew for a fact that you hadn’t fixed your hair since the park, and you belatedly wondered if your face was still puffy from your breakdown earlier.

“You’ve had a big day. I think you should go home for the afternoon.” His voice was gentle, taking on almost a paternal tone. You would have been mildly offended if you weren’t so exhausted.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to make things more difficult-” you began, but a gruff voice interrupted your weak protest.

“You should go. You look dead on your feet.”

You glared at Bakugou, but his gaze remained firm as he stared you down. Sensing that this was a fight you wouldn’t win, you looked away, shrugging your shoulders lightly. You had to admit, now that the adrenaline of Chargebolt’s awakening had worn off, you were left feeling even more tired than before. As Bakugou’s friends began to heckle him about his rough words, you turned to Dr. Hiyashi, thanking him for the opportunity.

You were just wondering how you could quietly leave when Hina, your savior once again, walked through the door with an anxious Suneater behind her. Taking the opportunity, you managed to slip behind them as Dr. Hiyashi filled her in on the situation. You tried to be relatively sneaky in the transition, but if you had turned around, you would have noticed a pair of ruby eyes trailing you until you shut the door behind you.

When you finally made it home, you were barely able to change out of your work clothes before collapsing onto your bed. The beginnings of a headache pressed against your forehead, and even the diffused light of your room felt too bright for your eyes. Certain that a nap would fix your problems, you easily drifted to sleep.

However, when you woke up at dusk, the weariness hadn’t gone away.

In fact, everything had gotten worse. Your favorite soft blanket was shoved to the far side of the bed, its presence creating a constrictive furnace with the heat radiating off of your body despite the chills running up and down your arms. The small headache had turned painful, your skull feeling like it was being split in two as you curled up into a miserable ball on your bed. You knew you needed to go to the bathroom to break out your ibuprofen, take your temperature, and grab a cold rag, but the thought of moving made you shudder, the task insurmountable.

Instead, you pulled out your phone, first texting Hina about your situation and then Shiozaki. The action was small, but it had cost you a large amount of energy. You let your phone slip out of your grasp as you collapsed back onto the bed, hearing the small chime of a new notification but not bothering to respond. You had begun drifting off into a slight doze when a sudden noise startled you awake.

Knock.

Knock.

Knock.

Your eyes shot to your door, but your body refused to move even an inch. You let out a unintelligible groan in form of greeting, and the person seemed satisfied at your response. A slight shuffling could be hold, and the clink of something ceramic against hardwood, and then silence once again descended around you.

Somehow, you eventually found it within yourself to shuffle over to the door, carefully opening it to reveal your offering: a packet of rice crackers, a bottle of water, a thermometer, and a bottle of ibuprofen. Meager fare, but you were extremely grateful for anything that would save you an extra trip outside of your room.

Returning to the comfort of your bed, you went for the thermometer first, sticking it into your mouth quickly to read out the inevitable results. While it loaded, you fished out your phone to send a quick text of thanks to Shiozaki. At this point, you knew she would be out of the apartment and checked into a hotel, so this would be your last contact with her before the message proclaiming you better. She had a fear about getting sick, which you had learned very quickly upon getting the flu after moving in. You were just thankful she had been willing to help you before fleeing.

The electric beep of the thermometer pulled you from your thoughts, and you grimaced as you read 101.2 degrees Fahrenheit. Expected, but definitely not good. You turned your attention toward the ibuprofen next, popping two in your mouth quickly followed by a large gulp of water. After all but inhaling the crackers, you settled down once again, content to stare at the ceiling as you let your drowsiness overtake you, this time hopefully to carry you through the night.

The good news was that you slept through the night, morning, and well into the afternoon. The bad news was that your whole body felt sore, and you thought you might be dying soon, if not from illness then from the commotion outside your door. The voices were indistinguishable through the walls of your apartment, but they were increasing in volume and based on the intermittent bangs on your front door, you were pretty sure they were aimed at you.

Fumbling around in your nest of blankets, you grabbed your phone as quickly as you could before slipping down to the floor and crawling your way into the closet. Sure, you were on the twelfth floor, but people could fly these days, and in your fever-addled brain, this seemed like the smartest option. Swiping your phone open, you immediately began dialing the police, only to pause before clicking the call button. What if you were blowing things out of proportion? What if you were hallucinating? But you still wanted someone to check on you; someone who would be able to take a fight if necessary too. You clicked out of the keypad, thumb scrolling through your contacts until it landed on your person of choice.

The phone only rang once before he picked up.

“It’s about damn time you answered your phone,” Bakugou snapped.

“Bakugou, you’ve got to help me,” you whispered, ignoring his greeting. “There’s someone banging on my apartment door and I think they’re out to get me.”

“Huh?” Bakugou exclaimed, sounding genuinely taken aback. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“There’s someone trying to Break. Into. My. Apartment.”

“What-no there’s not!”

You groaned in frustration. “And how would you know that? I know what I’m hearing!”

“And I know what I’m seeing!” he argued. “The only people in this hallway are me and an old lady in a bathrobe.” 

“How dare you have the gall-” a shrill voice cut through the speaker, and you froze. You knew that voice. It was your crabby neighbor, Mrs. Fukigen, who would bang on the wall if you even vacuumed too late in the day. And wait, did he just say that he was in the hallway? That statement, plus his strange greeting, finally helped you connect the dots. You quickly swiped over to your unread messages for confirmation, only to see fifteen unread notifications.

Oh no.

Ice ran through your veins, but for a completely different reason now than before. You no longer feared a home invasion, but you did fear whatever Mrs. Fukigen and Bakugou could get up to if they were left alone any longer. You didn’t know what types of hero codes of ethics Bakugou was bound to, but you could easily see a world where Bakugou would swing on an old lady, especially one like Mrs. Fukigen who even made you daydream of resorting to violence from time to time.

You shot to your feet in a panic, which proved to be a very big mistake as you stumbled into the wall. Nevertheless, you persisted, making your way to the door as quickly as you could. After all, the fate of your apartment complex depended on it.

Finally making it to the door, you wrenched it open, only to be greeted with the sight of Mrs. Fukigen’s bony finger pointed centimeters from Bakugou’s nose. At the sound, both parties stopped their fighting in order to gape at you. It was only then in the sudden silence that you realized how you must have looked: disheveled clothes, messy hair, and on death’s doorstep.

Immediately Mrs. Fukigen retracted as though she had been attacked, hands covering her mouth and nose as she backed away towards her door. All notions of arguing abandoned at your appearance.

“Stay back now,” she snapped at you, as though you were no longer her neighbor but some diseased final boss. “And open your windows, while you’re at it. I can’t afford to catch whatever illness you have through the vents.”

And with that closing statement, the door to her apartment slammed shut.

Now, only Bakugou remained, taking in your state wearily as you leaned against the door for support. However, unlike Mrs. Fukigen, he was a hero, not a coward. Instead of commenting on your appearance, as you were expecting him to do, he merely held up a large brown paper sack as a peace offering.

“Can I come in?”

You shrugged, stepping back into your apartment.

“At your own risk.”

He huffed out a laugh, crossing the threshold without hesitation. You should have asked him why he was here. Even better, you should have asked him how he knew where you lived. But just having that brief interaction at the doorway of your apartment had winded you, so you instead curled up into the corner of your couch, peering at him as he sauntered around your kitchen like he owned it.

“Bowls?” he asked, opening cabinets and drawers at random.

“Cabinet to the left of the stove,” you supplied.

He nodded in satisfaction as he continued whatever mission he had set his mind to. You reached behind you, wrapping yourself in the dark green woven throw on the back of the couch. The room filled with silence, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. In fact, it felt surprisingly natural, Bakugou’s presence having blended naturally into the atmosphere of your home instead of invading it, as so many might assume. The low whir of the microwave provided a gentle white noise that had your head nodding, and it wasn’t until a gentle prod of your shoulder that you realized you had fallen asleep.

“Here, eat this.”

Bakugou’s manners were as lacking as ever, but the food on the tray he had thrust in front of you more than made up for it. Two steaming bowls paired with a mug of matcha made your previously uneasy stomach rumble in hunger. The larger bowl was filled with a golden miso soup, cubes of soft tofu and delicate pieces of torn seaweed floating in the broth to create a mouthwatering aroma. The other bowl held a simple okayu, although the slightly congealed state of the rice told you that it had been cooked to perfection.

Your arms shot out faster than you could think, only for Bakugou to quickly back away in response.

“Are you crazy? You’ll spill everything on yourself if you move like that,” he snapped.

You weren’t sure whether he was more concerned for you or the food, but he did have a good point regardless. You settled back into the couch, patting your lap for him to set the tray onto. He eyed you apprehensively, as though you were playing a trick on him, before carefully setting the tray on you. 

As expected, the food was absolutely delicious. You blamed your semi-delirious state for the moan that escaped your lips after your first bite. You sheepishly glanced at Bakugou who rolled his eyes at your display, although you swore his cheeks were slightly pink.

“Out of all of the food I cook you, this is your favorite?” he grumbled, although it wasn’t truly a complaint.

You cracked a small smile, eyes closing in satisfaction as you spooned down more of the okayu. “What can I say? I’m a simple woman.”

He scoffed in agreement. “Apparently so. I barge into your apartment in the middle of the day, and you don’t at least question it a little? A normal person with a brain would wonder how I got here.”

You shrugged, unaffected by his small jab. “I figured you probably got the address from Shiozaki, or maybe even Hina. Or through your super secret hero files.”

It seemed logical to you, but the stunned expression and slight part of his lips painted a clear picture of Bakugou’s shock.

“And you don’t care?”

“Why would I?” you questioned back. “At this point, I’d hope to have at least considered us friends. But the real question I want to know is why you’re here, not how.”

The words sat heavy in the room, so much so that you almost regretted saying them. Bakugou had kept the conversation lighthearted until now, and you felt like a fool for ruining it. Yet you were curious, and that curiosity only grew as you watched his response. His eyebrows drew close in concentration, and it took several times of his mouth opening and closing before words were eventually forced out. 

“It was my turn.”

You tilted your head, urging him to continue with a wave of your spoon.

“Today was my turn to make lunch, but when I showed up at the hospital, you weren’t there. I found your nurse buddy and she told me you were out, so I adjusted accordingly.”

You gave him an incredulous stare. “You hunt down my address, make me homemade miso soup and okayu, and brave Mrs. Fukigen all to stick to routine?”

He glared at you, and you playfully stuck your tongue out in response.

“And here I thought it was because you cared,” you joked.

But Bakugou didn’t laugh. Instead, he turned his face away and began mumbling out a string of half-hearted insults. Yet it was unmistakable now: the blush you thought you saw earlier now extended to the tips of his ears, growing in intensity as you couldn’t contain your giggles at the state of him. He lightly shoved your shoulder in an attempt to get you to stop, but it only made things worse. His petulance and pouty demeanor was the funniest thing you had ever seen in your state of sickness, and it wasn’t until you were gasping for air that you were finally able to settle down.

“You done?” he grumbled, although you could tell from the sparkle in his eye that he wasn’t truly angry at all.

You nodded, both in regard to your meal and your hysterics, shoving the tray in his general direction. He shook his head as he retrieved it, but he dutifully took your dishes to the sink. You stared unabashedly as he did so, marveling at the fact that Pro-Hero Dynamight was currently washing your dishes. It sounded so absurd, yet at the same time, it made complete sense. Maybe it was because you had only ever seen him as “good-smelling asshole” or Bakugou, but you much preferred this version of him to whatever was projected on the news channels.

The tap shut off with a soft click, and the room was once again blanketed in a soft silence that made your eyelids begin to droop. You hadn’t realized you had curled up onto the couch until your head rested on the arm rest, and you hadn’t realized your eyes had closed until a warm palm pressed against your forehead.

“Still got a bit of a fever,” Bakugou tsked.

“Feel better though,” you muttered in response, quickly fading like the rays of orange sunlight illuminating the apartment. “Thank you.”

You heard an affirmation, and then silence, before two strong arms wrapped around you, pulling both you and your blanket up into the air. Fully-conscious you might have screamed, both out of surprise or embarrassment, but semi-conscious was completely focused in on the warm that radiated from the chest you were gathered into. You were further pleased to note that the scent of warm caramel and expensive smelling cologne only strengthened as you burrowed deeper in your makeshift cocoon, resting your head on his chest. Just as you had settled in, the short trip was over, and you were being gingerly set on your bed.

“I’ll be back tomorrow, so you better open your door this time.”

Your eyes squinted open, taking in his broad silhouette in the doorway. A sleepy reply slipped from your lips before you could even think about it, quiet yet full of confidence that left no room for doubt.

“Always.”

A/N: I bet you thought I had given up! I'm sorry it's taken so long, but life got super busy, and I also took a breather from writing for a bit as I focused on other projects. However, what I said in the beginning still stands: I will finish this story. Thank you so much to everyone who has stuck with me so far, and welcome to any new readers!

As always, reblogs and likes are greatly appreciated, but please do not repost here or on other platforms. However, fan arts, edits, or anything like that are beyond amazing and totally welcome! If you have a question about it, just ask me.

Tag List: @lavender99, @gold24fish, @bqkuho3, @satorulicious, @cringeycookies, @summrwalkr, @nyxmania, @poopoobuttsy, @st1rvoid, @kitzusune, @nindevorak, @stxrrielle, @cax-per, @kisskissshutmydoor, @kazuumii,  @nnubee, @neutralevilxx, @idk-sam, @berryvioo, @hoothootreiber, @sikuthealien, @boopjuice, @crazypersonrandom, @aecarstairs, @andysdrafts, @xenasolos, @dndmell,

If you would like to be added to the tag list, let me know in the comments! Also, if the tag list DIDN'T work, please let me know as well. I think I figured out the problem, but we'll see. Hyperlinks are not my specialty.

[evilminji]

Back at it again with the BNHA crossover Ponderings!

Nedzu is LITERALLY one of THE smartest beings on the planet, right? Like... he's probably on some internationally recognized list of Top Planetary IQs? Which is why Japan let's him get away with so much?

Cause they REALLY fucked him over, he has the power to leave, and that would be really, REALLY bad Brain Drain wise/politically for the Japanese Government? (Also pls don't become a Supervillian we literally can not afford that, Mr. Nedzu Sir? Etc etc)

You think he has... like? Chats? With the OTHER top intellects? Some kid in Siberia with the New Super Intelligence Quirk his parents can't begin to even handle, gets put in history's WEIRDEST group chat? I like to think so.

But the REASON I ask this?

What hero do you call? For Weird Shit in international waters?

Suspicious, floating, weirdly two dimensional and HIGHLY radioactive... corrosive... green goop? Rings? Orbs? CAN it be an orb if it's two dimensional? It certainly LOOKS like there is depth to it... somehow...

A THING. In the sky.

Shouldn't be there, man. This is a shipping lane. It's scaring the people on passing ships. No one knows what Quirk could have made this. Might be a trafficking victim's call for help. Might be a first Quirk Use mishap. They need to know what it IS and how to get rid of it.

They go the normal routes first. Doesn't work. Okay, call in some professionals. Kinda pricey, but no big. Right? Doesn't work. Okaaaay, call in a SPECIALIST. REAL pricey, but this thing is holding up international trade, making people in fancy ass suit all Nervous(TM).

Doesn't Work.

Specialist tells um to not to bother with calling anyone else on their normal list. Is looking at the green goo like it spat on his mother and called his dog a whore. They would prefer he NOT make that facial expression. That is a facial expression that will get them yelled at by their bosses. Fuck(TM).

Now Politics(TM) are involved. People want to STUDY the green goo. Harness it for dubious and unknown green goo experiments. Poke it with their Quirk to see what'll happen. There's fuckin REPORTER with no concept of self-preservation, trying to get CLOSER to the RADIOACTIVE POISON GOO.

Fuckin Heros have shown up.

Why are you bastards even HERE. What? Are you peacocks gonna PUNCH it? Get off their rig! Stop posing in front of the GOO!

Then? Oh thank GOD. The SMART people show up. Certified, highest grade, triple refined, PREMIUM Nerds(TM). The WAY above our pay grade folks. We're SAVED! Can we PLEASE go home now? We are just ocean cleaners! Our job is debris! Not weird GOO!

Enter, stage Super Cool Helicopters? The Elite Nerds of Earth. Of which Nedzu is one. Since Japan is closest. And it's a school weekend! He had some time.

And?

Ha ha... Thanks, he hates it! Nedzu's stoat brain is SCREAMING and he wants NOTHING to do with...? What he is somehow CERTAIN is a floating pit of Death! Interesting effect. Anyone getting that or just him?

Then? Some hot head on loan to Korea from the states? Spots something. SomeONE. And does he TELL the newly arrived professionals? So they may do a risk assessment? Figure out a way to rescue this individual SAFELY? Of course not!

Said hot head has supposedly indescribable chains! So he just flings them rights on in! Grabbing the boy from the center of the portal, pulling him free, and in the process? Immediately destabilizing it. Causing it to collapse down towards everyone bellow.

He also then proceeds to DROP the young lad, in his alarm at this entirely predictable outcome.

Right. Into. The Ocean.

A boy, who is dressed in filthy medical scrubs, haunting familiar in a way nothing should EVER be again, and entirely unconscious. Plunge down into the briny deeps and bitter cold. Alone. Abandoned. Death, thick and viscous, losing form and raining down like bile.

Everyone saving themselves.

Ah, he rather liked this suit.

The salt water ruins it. The droplets of Green, burn like molten glass each time they touch him. He will likely have at least a few new scars, after today. Assuming this is not the end of him. But he swims fast. The boy sinking slower then his size would suggest he should. He grabs hold and arcs, dragging them both from beneath the fallout of yet another humans hubris.

He does not stop swimming. Not until he knows he is near the helicopter. He is thankful, that he dragged Aizawa along. The man takes one look at his serious expression, the state of his rescued young friend, and merely hauls them both out of the water and into the machine.

Time to go.

They saw nothing, it seems. And there is nothing to be found.

The boy does not wake. Not for quite a while. Long enough, that Nedzu, perhaps unwisely, has grown attached. Is considering adoption. If only too terrorize a few goverment bodies. And... well... the boy will need some who UNDERSTANDS. And the scars paint a very specific sort of tale. But first, the most important question, when beginning these things...

"Tea? Or would you prefer coffee?"

@the-witchhunter @mutable-manifestation @hypewinter @hdgnj

[ugotnojamzzz]

Rulers of Ruin Pt.I

Chapter 1

Alright so I’ve been toying with this complex mafia!au fic idea for a very long while and I guess it’s time to give it a whirl. I already have about ten chapters written out (I’m expecting it to be at least 20 chapters), but I want to test out the waters first. I’ll start posting more if some of you are interested in knowing what the hell is going on.

Genre: Mafia!au , Slowburn, Angst, Hurt, eventual smut, TW (it is a mafia!AU, after all)

Pairing: Mafia!Jungkook x reader

Synopsis: um, tf is going on??? Stay tuned for more chapters to come, because you are clearly about to be confused.

Disclaimer: English isn’t my native language. Also, don’t come for me over the theme, people. It’s an Alternate Universe, which means the bangtan boys are essentially what I like to call meat puppets to serve the storyline. This is obviously not a projection of their actual real-life personas.

Wordcount: 1.9k

Her pulse echoed in her ears, a rhythmic drumming that seemed to sync with the slow return of her consciousness. A sharp pain throbbed at her temple, and a dull ache spread across her cheek when a voice sliced through the lingering fog in her mind.

“Rise and shine,” it sang.

Bound and blindfolded, she sensed the cold, hard back of a wooden chair against her spine. Panic clawed at her chest, and she made an instinctive, futile attempt to move her arms, only to find them securely tied. The room’s air was charged, heavy with an unspoken menace that made the small hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.

As the blindfold was abruptly removed, a harsh light assaulted her eyes, forcing her to squint and struggle to orient herself in the unknown space.

Her gaze landed on a pair of unfamiliar eyes, their owner concealed in the shadows. "You're not gonna cause any more trouble, are you?" the stranger asked, his words heavy with an unspoken threat.

Her throat felt like sandpaper. “W-where am I?” The words scraped out of her, barely above a whisper.

Rather than answering, the stranger stepped closer, his features gradually unmasking from the shadows. He was young, platinum blonde hair framing a face that presented the kind of sharp angles that both captivated and cut. His eyes were fixed on her with a depth that tightened her stomach.

He leaned in, his hand lifting to trace a cold line down her jaw, prompting a reflexive flinch from the girl. “You're in a place where questions get answered if you cooperate,” he murmured, his eyes gleaming momentarily. "You’ve caused quite a stir around here.”

The girl’s mind raced, trying to piece together what could have led her to this place. "Please," she whispered, her voice quivering, "I don't know what you're talking about. You must have me confused with someone else."

The corner of the man’s mouth quirked up in a knowing half-smile, amusement flickering in his eyes. He tightened his grip, fingers pressing uncomfortably into her jaw. "You may not remember my face," he said, the familiarity of his accent unsettling, "but I certainly haven't forgotten yours, little bird."

The nickname seemed to send a jolt of nervousness through the poor girl.

She continued to plead, her eyes welling up with tears, the very picture of fragility. “I-I don’t know who you are, there’s been a mistak-” she insisted, though her voice faltered.

The man’s expression hardened. "You should save your tears,”he said curtly, using his thumb to wipe the single bead rolling down her cheek, “I’m not the one you’ll need to convince.”

As her gaze dropped, she caught sight of a tattoo peeking out from under the man’s collar—an unmistakable symbol. The realization hit her like a wave.

She was not merely in danger - she was deep in enemy territory.

 She’d been taken by the Kim clan.

A sudden banging on the door cut through the tense atmosphere, causing both to turn their heads sharply toward the sound. The door swung open, and four men entered the room. The air thickened with the palpable sense of impending action, and the girl braced herself silently.

“Guess it’s time to meet the boss,” the man said, as he cut her ties in one swift motion “Go ahead, guys.”

Without a word, two of the men grabbed her firmly by the arms, hoisting her to her feet with practiced ease. They escorted her out of the room, their grip unyielding as they navigated her up a narrow, creaking staircase.

Every step heightened the girl’s alertness. As they reached the top of the stairs, she found herself in the expansive hall of what could only be described as a mansion. The opulence was almost disorienting, but her eyes, quickly adjusted to the surroundings. Golden light pierced through the curtains; it must’ve been the early evening. She noted the strategic placement of security cameras in every corner, barely concealed by the luxurious decor. The presence of armed men stationed discreetly at every doorway did not escape her eye either.

She was led into an elegant parlor, where her eyes instantly landed on a tall man standing by the fireplace, his back facing her. Broad-shouldered and dressed in a finely tailored suit, he casually dangled a glass filled with amber liquid in one hand.

His voice, resonant and commanding, broke the silence without him needing to turn around. "Has she calmed down yet?"

One of the men still gripping her arm replied, "She hasn’t said a thing, but—" His words were abruptly cut off as the man by the fireplace raised his hand in a dismissive gesture without so much as a glance.

Then, with a smooth motion, he finally turned around. With a tight jaw, the girl scrutinized his features as he drew nearer. Behind thin-rimmed glasses, his eyes, deep and penetrating held a feline intensity.

Stopping in front of her shaking figure, he reached out and cradled her face with surprising gentleness. His fingers delicately grazed her bruised cheekbone, his touch careful yet firm, as if he were appraising something precious that had been marred.

The girl remained silent, her jaw clenched tightly, refusing to show any sign of weakness. Observing her reaction, or lack thereof, he turned his attention back to his men, his voice taking on a sharp edge, "Who did that?” he asked, his eyes sweeping over the faces of his subordinates, searching for the culprit. The room held its breath. “I said no touching her face."

The tall, broad-shouldered man sighed in frustration as the room remained quiet. Without another word, he walked slowly towards the blonde man who had been part of her escort. “Go get Seokjin,” he muttered. The subordinate nodded sharply and quickly exited the room.

Within a minute, the door opened again. The new arrival wore a white coat that brushed against his calves. He approached the captive directly, his expression focused and professional, ignoring the others as if they were merely part of the room's elaborate decor.

As he neared, the guard holding her arm tightened his grip reflexively, a habitual show of dominance. She winced slightly—a brief, almost imperceptible reaction—but it did not escape the doctor's notice. His eyes shot towards the guard, piercing and stern. The intensity of his gaze was enough for the guard to hastily release his grip on her.

The doctor then turned his attention back to his patient. He examined her face gently yet thoroughly, his fingers skilled and efficient as they traced the contours of her injury.

Meanwhile, the man who appeared to be the leader paced before his men, his frustration evident in each measured step. He paused, turning to face them with an expression of controlled ire. "When will you understand the meaning of orders?" He paused, allowing the weight of his words to sink in, his gaze piercing each of his subordinates in turn.

The men shuffled uneasily, their heads bowing slightly in a mixture of respect and fear. No one dared to meet his eyes.

“We’ll make sure it heals nicely,” the doctor finally spoke, his voice calm yet carrying an undercurrent of firm command, “there shouldn’t be a hint of a scar.”

The leader's hands clasped behind his back as he continued his slow, deliberate pacing. "We operate on precision and discipline," he lectured, his tone growing colder with each word. "Lapses like these—" he gestured dismissively towards the girl "—not only undermine our efforts but jeopardize our entire operation.” She shut her eyes as she took in his every word.

He stopped abruptly, standing straight "What do you think her brother is going to do when he sees that?” His voice rose slightly, as his eyes locked onto the platinum blonde, who seemed particularly uneasy, “huh, Jimin?"

The room had fallen into stunned silence when suddenly, a light giggle pierced the quiet. The leader spun around to locate the source of the sound. Everyone stood frozen in shock, realizing the unexpected laughter had come from the girl.

As all eyes moved to rest on her figure, the girl sighed nonchalantly. Perhaps it was time to drop the act. "He won't," she stated with a shake of her head. Her sudden firmness caught everyone off guard.

The leader paused, his expression shifting to one of intrigue. "So, she does speak," he remarked, his steps deliberate as he closed the distance between them. His tall figure loomed over her. "Care to repeat?" he pressed, his voice low and commanding.

Her demeanor shifted; the façade of vulnerability dropped away, replaced by an air of cool indifference. Now that she knew who she was dealing with, there seemed to be no point in maintaining her mask of ignorance.

 “I said he won’t see this,” she replied, her posture relaxed, an almost dismissive roll of her eyes accompanying her words. The room's atmosphere shifted palpably, her casual dismissal of the threat to her person surprising everyone present.

The leader gave a slight gesture of his hand, and with that, his men quietly exited the room, leaving only him, the girl, and the doctor.

"You know… you may want to look at your enemies' track record before you go on holding their family hostage," the girl continued, her tone breezy but edged with a sharpness that belied her relaxed posture. "But you do know of my brother already, so tell me-” she paused, her doe eyes locking with his, “what’s the plan, Namjoon-ah?"

The casual address was a clear breach of decorum, nothing short of a middle finger, really. It made the doctor pause in his ministrations, his hands freezing momentarily in shock at her audacity.

Namjoon’s reaction, however, was one of amusement rather than offense. His smirk deepened, a spark of respect—or perhaps appreciation—for her daring flitting across his features.

“I’m surprised you remember my face,” he remarked.

“A raven remembers both friends and foes,” she retorted.

"You’re quite bold, aren't you?" he mused aloud, his gaze appraising her anew. "For someone in your position, I mean."

The girl met his gaze, her own eyes unflinching. "I’m afraid boldness might be all I have left," she replied steadily.

“Kicked out of the will, huh?”

The girl’s eye twitched slightly at his remark, but she didn’t let it show. “Too many strings for my taste.”

“Ah,” Namjoon exhaled, “free birds do soar higher,” he paused. “Is that what you’ve been, though?” He took a sip from his drink, a satisfied smirk across his face. “Free?” She didn’t say a word.

"Alright,” the tension was momentarily pierced by the doctor's exasperated interjection, “are you finally going to tell me what the hell this all is about?"

Namjoon turned slightly, as smile playing on his lips, before addressing the doctor with a controlled calm. "Seokjin," he began, his voice smooth, "let me introduce you to our guest, Park Y/N."

Seokjin lifted his eyes to rest on the leader, his face etched with disbelief as he muttered a soft curse under his breath. Jesus fucking Christ.

Namjoon's eyes, however, never wavered from Y/N's, his gaze intense as he continued, “our very own Raven Gongju.”

___

*cue suspenseful music*

___

Hope you liked it. If some of you are intrigued or interested in finding out more, don't hesitate to interact and I'll start posting some more chapters!

Chapter 2

Masterlist

[teastainedprose]

Homelander x fem!reader

Listening to the rain together

The drumming of the rain against the windows of his penthouse has been something Homelander has grown to love. The sound of rain on a window or on a roof had been a distant confusion within the lab, heard but never seen. An unknown from the mysterious outside he never had been allowed to see until his debut. Sure, the doctors had tried to explain it to him. They'd shown him videos and images, but he'd never been allowed out to experience it. Not until his first day in a crowd, when he'd fled and been exposed to the yawning blue of the sky.

It had cracked open later that day, after he's run off. That endless sky had cracked open, and water had poured down as if by magic. He'd been soaked through by it, bhut it had felt cleansing. The sky had cried with the child-god in its own way. Now Homelander can watch nature rage on unobstructed from his bed. The beating of the rain and lightning flashing is just as untamed as the first time he'd seen it. Magical in a way only nature can be. It thrills him as much as it soothes him, the constant patter of rain drops becoming a relaxing thrum that helps dull the clamor everything else his ears pick up. Even the colors of his penthouse feel muted under the grey haze of the sky. The perfect scenery for a nap. Which is exactly what you're doing. You'd insisted this was an ideal time for a book and cuddling. Swore up and down that you wouldn't doze off, yet here you are. Asleep. His lips quirk up, recalling your insistence that this time you'll keep your eyes open. The only lie he'll let you get caught in, because it means Homelander can memorize every detail in the soft, grey light. You're tucked in against his side, back towards him and head propped up with your book discarded atop the pillow. Your breathing is slow and measured, chest rising and falling with each deep breath. There's that content curl to your lips with them slightly parted. Pure temptation sprawled beside him, utterly content and trusting of the monster you're nestled against. Yes, he's grown to love rainy days.

[paperweight91]

🧚🏻‍♀️✨Bippity boppity bow chicka wow oww! You’ve been visited by the Shameless Hoe Fairy, and now you must share a hoe drabble about:

Lloyd Hansen + stalker + “I knew you’d taste incredible.”

Well thank you for your patience since the muse decided to fuck off to places unknown once I dug into this. I really hope you enjoy my take on this Siri! ❤️

How My Poor Heart Aches, With Every Step You Take

Pairing: Lloyd Hansen x reader

W/C: 1064

Warnings: stalking, gunplay, enough crazy to go around

A/N: I really enjoyed writing this, so I hope you enjoy reading it just as much! As always comments and reblogs are much appreciated! ❤️

You fluffed the pillows on the couch, your anxiety translating into cleaning. Things had been weird lately. You weren’t sure what was off but something was.

You smoothed your hands down your dress, and walked into the kitchen. You couldn’t stop your hands from moving. Checking on your dinner would calm you a bit.

You saw a flash of headlights through the kitchen windows. It was late for anyone to be visiting. You went to the front window, pushing the curtain aside just enough for you to peek into the driveway.

Nothing.

Maybe someone had used the driveway to turn around?

You shrugged and returned to the kitchen. Puttering around and checking your soup. This meal was going to be perfect. Five courses, a beautiful bottle of wine, everything was exactly how you wanted it.

You took off your apron and washed your hands, deciding to set the table while you waited for everything to be done.

When you entered the dining room, you saw a figure in the shadows. You couldn’t quite make out their face, but the stance was one that was unmistakable to you. You let out a shrill scream and dropped the plates and cutlery in your hands, shattering the glass.

The tall man slinked out of the shadows, with a gun raised in your direction. “You wanna tell me what’s going on here Suzie Homemaker?”

You shivered and took a step back. This was it, the moment you had been waiting for, and now you were paralyzed. You had planned and planned for this moment, and yet still, here you were with your mouth gaping like a fish out of water.

“Speak. Now.” He leaned forward across the dining room table, letting his full size show. You knew he was intimidating, but this was something unlike anything you had seen before.

”I - uhh…” you cleared your throat and tried again, “I’m sorry. Lloyd, I know this must be quite a shock for you. Honey, I’m here to take care of you.” You smoothed your hands down your dress, and took a few steps towards the mustached man. “I see how hard you work, and I know that things are so tough right now. You have to know how much I care about you, don’t you sweetie?”

Lloyd’s eyebrow quirked up, and he stood back to his full height. He motioned for you to go on with the gun in his hand.

“I made you a wonderful dinner, I know you’ve had such a long day. Why don’t you take a seat and I’ll bring it out for you.” Your smile turned a little manic as he smirked at you.

”Oh yeah, no I don’t think so Buttercup.” Lloyd strutted around the table and placed the gun under your chin, tilting your face up to his fully. “Here’s how this is gonna go: You’re gonna go clean up that horrendous smell in my kitchen, and then you’re gonna get the fuck out of here before I make you. Got it?”

You let out a sweet giggle, before reaching up to cup Lloyd’s cheek. “Honey, don’t be like that! I made all of your favourites. I even have something special planned for dessert.” You winked at him and placed a chaste kiss on the corner of his mouth. “Please baby,” you whispered against his lips, “I worked so hard for you.”

Lloyd’s eyes narrowed, you could see him running through all the possible situations in his mind. “I have to make a few calls. Do. Not. Leave.”

With that he turned quickly and left to his office.

You went to the pantry and grabbed the broom to sweep up the broken glass. After the mess was cleaned up and the table was set, you set about putting all your work into serving dishes. You had to impress Lloyd, this was your only shot. And if the man wouldn’t eat your dinner, you were sure there were other ways to persuade him.

When you returned to the dining room with your final dish, you saw Lloyd sitting at the head of the table. You pasted a broad smile on your face, “You ready to eat Honey?”

Lloyd snorted, but didn’t say a word. You served him some soup and salad, then served yourself before sitting.

“Wine?” You asked.

He only shook his head. He was staring at you, the look in his eyes one you couldn’t exactly read. You nervously played with your napkin, the feel of the cotton soothing you slightly. Suddenly Lloyd smirked, “Come here.” He held his arm out towards you.

You stood on shaky legs, this wasn’t going at all the way you expected. But he wasn’t throwing you out, so you followed his direction. He perched you on the edge of the dining room table. “Alright Sweetcheeks, let’s do some real talk shall we?”

You nodded dumbly, not sure at all where Lloyd was going with this.

”I’m going to ask the questions, and you’re going to answer them. Lie to me, avoid the question or do anything I deem suspicious,” He trailed his gun between your thighs, “Understood?”

You nodded again, but at his stern glare you cleared your throat, “Yes Sir.”

Lloyd smirked and dragged the gun closer to the apex of your thighs, “Great! What are you doing here?”

You gave him a perplexed look, you’d already told him this. You sighed and answered, “I told you Honey, I just want to take care of you, I love you so much.”

He hummed, “And how long have you been watching me?

You drew in a harsh breath, you had to answer. “Six months.” You hung your head, as tears started to gather in your eyes. You felt Lloyd press the gun into your soaking wet cunt, but instead of fear a jolt of arousal ran through your body sending shivers up your spine.

“Eyes up, Buttercup.” When you returned your gaze to Lloyd’s you saw mischief dancing in his eyes. You hiccuped on a sob as Lloyd began teasing you with the muzzle of the gun.

“I-ngh-I’m sorry.” You tried to bite back the arousal spreading from where Lloyd had his gun pressed against you.

He drew it away, and brought it to his own lips sucking on the tip and humming loudly. “From the crazy in your eyes, I knew you’d taste incredible.”

***

Taglist:

@stargazingfangirl18 @krirebr @rebeccapineapple @precious1610 @bval-1 @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @abbyyourlocalmilf

[trashytoastboi]

Hi mate! :D If ya have time, Can i ask hcs for Hawkins, Law, Kid and Killer reacting to seeing s/o's face for the first time?, (male, pirate ally s/o) Since his very conscious of the big scar on his forehead reaching to his chin and why he always wear a mask

Hiya! Of course! Sorry for the long wait on this and hope you enjoy 🍞🍀

Headcanons: Hawkins, Law, Kid, Killer x Male! S/O – Reacting to seeing their S/O's face for the first time

(Male Pronouns)

Basil Hawkins

🔮 {Name} and Hawkins had hit it off so well that Hawkins fell pretty hard in a short amount of time. He truly was so charmed by {Name}, his personality and his little quirks or his witty sense of humour all became points that Hawkins really enjoyed about his partner. Some people brought up the curious question if Hawkins had even seen {Name’s} face as having it constantly covered created a very mysterious impression of him. 

🔮 The mask did have some difficulties such as eating and drinking restrictions, {Name} mostly ate by himself as the mask was not flexible enough to eat with it on. Hawkins never really minded so long as {Name} was comfortable. Hawkins being himself over held immense curiosity for anything unknown to him. Earlier on in the relationship he had the impulsivity to ask his cards for reason, even considering scrying to learn of {Name’s} appearance. Though he decided against it in respect for his partner. 

🔮 {Name} cautiously looked around the room, making sure no one was around before he took off his mask. Desperately needing a drink of water to ease his thirst in the oppressive heat wave. The mask was hot enough without the heat wave making it feel like an oven. His face was covered in sweat and he felt like he could breathe properly. {Name} reached for a towel to wipe the sweat, failing to notice when Hawkins had walked into the room and for the first time locked eyes with his partner without the mask. 

🔮 Hawkins is surprised to see {Name’s} face. By all means he really found {Name} attractive, but seeing how he panicked and tried to cover his face made Hawkins worry. “I didn’t want you to see it…” {Name} murmured sadly. The thing in mention was a rather prominent scar on his face, one that ran along the length of his face. So many people avoided {Name} and mocked his appearance that it became easier to conceal everything. He grew to hate his reflection just for the sight that was reflected back. He always assumed that others would hold an even harsher outlook. 

🔮 Hating oneself was not exactly a foreign concept to Hawkins, and while he could say from where he stood that {Name} shouldn’t have minded the comments of others he knew it was not as simple when on the receiving end. {Name} tried to awkwardly shuffle to where he left his mask and ended up tripping due to the poor visibility. Hawkins helped {Name} up and passed his mask to him. Hawkins felt a sliver of happiness finally being able to see the face of the one he so dearly loves, but his happiness is irrelevant if it caused {Name} so much distress. 

🔮 {Name} secured his mask on. Hawkins placed a kiss on the mask, an affectionate gesture the two of them developed. “I know it’s hard for you my love, but truly, you are still so beautiful in my eyes” Hawkins awkwardly said, attempting to comfort {Name}. Seeing his efforts really made {Name} happy, he felt a little more trusting and confident in slowly getting used to the idea of showing his face a little more around Hawkins. 

Trafalgar Law

🍄 Seeing someone with an out of ordinary fashion sense, was actually pretty normal amongst the various pirates. {Name} didn’t stand out even when wearing a mask that entirely concealed his face. Law is a very thoughtful person, physical appearance didn’t hold the first and foremost consideration of his partners. He wanted someone who resonated with him on an intellectual and emotional level. 

🍄 {Name} had yet to work up the courage to show Law his face. {Name} knew Law, and knew that Law most likely wouldn’t react badly when he discovered the scar on his face. {Name} flinched every time he thought about revealing his face. Picturing Law’s disgusted face or his expression when he saw his scar, {Name} pulled himself back and away from the idea of showing his face. 

🍄 Unfortunate for {Name} but a situation in which Law saw his face did arise. Law noticed his partner being out of sorts that in turn led to discovering that [Name} caught a cold and was running a very bad fever. Law had the savvy to get {Name} to bed to rest as quickly as possible. Law insisted on him removing his mask so he could have water, medication, and breathe properly without the masks’ obstruction. Law was not in any way rude about it, but was a bit forceful purely out of worry for {Name}, he did offer to leave the room or turn around if it would make {Name} feel better. 

🍄 {Name} could feel the genuine concern from Law over his health and decided to remove his mask. The entire lead up felt nerve wracking, so much so he wanted to hide or cry. It had been so long since anyone saw his face, and {Name} dreaded the idea of Law feeling repulsed by his appearance. After he removed his mask he averted his gaze, waiting for the gasp of shock and horror. {Name} felt a cool hand press against his forehead. “Your temperature is really high.” Law stated with a worried tone. 

🍄 Law smiled softly, his hand cradling {Name’s} face. He understood {Name’s} hesitance to show his face due to the large scar that ran from his forehead to his chin. A rather deep and grizzly scar that more than anything had Law concerned over how badly it must have hurt {Name.} Not only in the physical sense but in the psychological sense to completely conceal his face for years. Without thinking Law leaned in and softly kissed the scar, {Name} backed away slightly out of surprise. 

🍄 {Name} felt so reassured that all of his worry and expectation was shattered by Law’s honest and gentle affections. Law didn’t flinch or think it was disgusting, rather he showed concern and sadness for the reasons that had to do with his care for {Name}. Law comforted him with constant reassurance and telling him how handsome he looked. It created a safe space where {Name} slowly felt he could be accepted and grew comfortable enough to start removing his mask around Law.

Eustass Kid

🛠 Kid is direct and insistent that even if he didn’t care about {Name’s} face since he already liked him, he still wanted to sate his deep rooted curiosity of seeing {Name’s} face. Kid would never force {Name} to show Kid his face, but still he sometimes would tell {Name} about the kind of ideas he formed in his mind of his appearance. The lizard man was an interesting theory but {Name} did outright deny that one. To give Kid a crumb, something hopefully enough to satiate his curiosity {Name} explained how he looked, his features, some random marks or how some people have commented on his appearance. 

🛠 “So you’re a handsome bastard and you’re bragging about it?” Kid replied after his takeaway from {Name’s} explanation. “I also have a really large scar…It doesn’t look so nice…” {Name} explained running his fingers over the mask where his scar lay underneath. Kid stared at him with absolute shock, he frantically gestured to his face showing off his own scars. “So you don’t like my scars?” He asked, {Name} stumbled over his words saying it was different. 

🛠 “How so?” Kid questioned, well it came apparent in the way they regarded their scars. Kid wore them proudly, boasted the fact that he clashed head on with an emperor of the sea and survived with his life, one arm lighter and covered in the evidence tattered all over his body. Even if it hurt, it stung his pride that he lost in the first place he turned them into his point of pride. [Name} was the opposite, his scar became a point of insecurity and shame, he covered it and hid it away from others and himself. 

🛠 “So, are you going to show me or what?” Kid grinned, almost trying to challenge {Name}. Well, nothing to lose, Kid was practically covered in scars and it probably wouldn’t be anything new for him to see. {Name} slowly removed his mask, feeling awkward and a little regretful that he gave into Kid’s provocations so easily. Kid closed the distance to look at {Name’s} face from close up. Kid sighed. “It’s a crime covering up a face like that. Your scar barely affects how good looking you are.”  

🛠 “What..?” he muttered, confused over what Kid said so plainly. Kid’s hand grabbed {Name’s} face and pulled him into an unexpected and deep kiss. Kid grinned, “I’ve been wanting to do that for a while now.” {Name} could feel the heat rising to his face, trying to process the last few minutes of compliments and the sudden kiss. “Oh? You can make a face like that huh?” Kid jeered, his grin only growing wider as he loved seeing the diverse reactions {Name} had to offer. 

🛠 Kid made a point of asking and encouraging {Name} to have his mask off around him, of course he relentlessly teased and flirted with {Name} including a stolen kiss or two. Kid’s abrupt and nonchalant attitude towards {Name’s} scar actually made him feel better about it, realizing that it did not encompass everything about him. There was so much more to him that just appearance and with Kid’s constant comments about how {Name} is actually good looking. 

Killer

🍜 Killer and {Name} occasionally got a few odd looks when they went on dates, two fully masked men awkwardly trying to eat or drink with their masks on without removing them. Killer and {Name} could equally agree they had a deeper understanding of their insecurities, more so than others. They often confided in one another about the things that troubled them or what they didn’t like about themselves. These discussions usually ended in a lot of back and forth of one another trying to explain that they were more than their insecurities. 

🍜 Killer and {Name} had been discussing the possibility of encouraging each other to remove their masks. In their own space when they each had the courage to do so. People may not have understood the courage that hiding behind a mask provided, or that you may have seen a person in a more genuine manner when they could differentiate themselves away from what they disliked. 

🍜 The act of showing each other their faces held a much deeper meaning than just curiosity, it was a form of vulnerability and trust between them. “One, two, three…” In unison they spoke, counting to the moment of their reveal. {Name} and Killer removed their masks. The surge of self-doubt came up. {Name} was happy to see Killer’s face, the joy of which eased his own distress. Killer looked up to {Name’s} face, he saw a large scar and could see {Name’s} aversion to his gaze. 

🍜 Killer didn’t want to dismiss {Name’s} insecurity over his scar, but on the same hand he failed to see anything wrong with {Name}. He is still as wonderful as he always has been in Killer’s eyes, if anything more so now that he had a face to put to him. Killer’s hand reached up to touch the scar, running his fingers along its length. “I know this won’t mean much, but your scar isn’t everything. You still have some of the prettiest eyes I’ve seen, and…-” Killer was cut off by {Name’s} laughter, “I appreciate it Kil” Seeing how Killer recited this like a romance novel actually convinced him all the more of the sincerity and truth all the more. 

🍜 {Name’s} initial worries had easily been laid to rest, though he still couldn’t deny that years of his growing distaste towards his appearance would not be so easily overturned. He found comfort in Killer’s attempts to reassure him and his awkward arguments of convincing {Name} that he was still so wonderful, regardless of his scar. Killer had an almost resonating understanding of how deep insecurities could go, how deep they could burrow in your mind and entire identity. He is still determined to try to encourage and comfort his partner. 

🍜 Killer and {Name} started to spend time together without their masks, getting used to the idea of being more comfortable without them. Killer grew a little more affectionate with this deeper sense of trust and intimacy. Not to mention having easier access for the occasional kiss or two. 

[doormatty3]

Ocean Eyes: Chapter 7 (Orm Marius x Reader)

Masterlist Ao3

Ocean Eyes Masterlink

Summary:

[Orm Marius x Female Reader] [Orm Marius x You]

The ocean has always fascinated you - the ebb and flow of its water, the marine life in the sea and the wild and untamed beauty it exudes. Your attempts to explain this fascination have always fallen short. But when you meet Orm at the seaside one rainy day you find, that he just understands.  You offer to show him around since he is not from the city. And you are intrigued by his rather strange quirks and his regal demeanour.  After all, how could you not? When his eyes mirror the ocean itself, deep and incredibly blue. OR: You impress Orm with the surface world and he impresses you with his Atlantean cock

Wordcount: 4125

A/N: I wrote this while at rehab…the majority here is around 30 years older than me (but they all actually walk better so that's sad) ANYWAY: Yeay, Atlantis. This chapter is mostly fluff again - but don't worry … there will be more smut

A few days later, you find yourself walking through your house, gathering your belongings in preparation for the journey ahead. The anticipation of the unknown stirs a blend of excitement and nervousness within you. As you move from room to room, folding clothes, securing personal items, and ensuring you have everything you might need, the realisation that you’re about to embark on a significant adventure settles in.

Orm, noticing your preparations, approaches with a warm smile. “Are you ready?” he asks, his eyes reflecting a shared eagerness for the journey ahead.

You meet his gaze, your own eyes alight with a mix of excitement and curiosity. “Yes, I’m ready. I can’t wait to see Atlantis,” you reply, the thrill of the unknown palpable in your voice.

Orm’s smile widens, and there’s a glint of enthusiasm in his eyes. “I’m excited for you to see it, to witness the beauty of my home. Atlantis is unlike anything on the surface, and I’m looking forward to sharing it with you.”

The prospect of exploring Atlantis, a mythical city hidden beneath the waves, adds an extra layer of anticipation to your excitement. The unknown wonders, the vibrant underwater world, and the unique culture of Orm’s homeland beckon, promising an experience beyond anything you’ve ever imagined.

“I’m really grateful for this opportunity, Orm,” you express, turning to him. “To see Atlantis and share this part of your life with me.”

Orm’s eyes hold a mixture of gratitude and affection. “It means a lot to me that you’re willing to explore this with me. Atlantis is more than just a city; it’s a part of who I am, and I want you to be a part of that, too.”

As the two of you stand in your living room, Orm reaches into a bag he had brought with him. From it, he produces a sleek and sophisticated device that looks like a piece of Atlantean technology.

“I thought you might need this,” Orm says, handing you the device. “We call it a ‘water suit’. It’ll allow you to breathe underwater and move freely.”

You take the water suit, examining the intricate design and advanced technology. It’s lightweight and streamlined, a testament to Atlantean craftsmanship. Gratitude fills your expression as you look up at Orm.

“Thank you,” you say, genuinely touched by his consideration. “This is incredible.”

Orm smiles, his eyes reflecting a genuine warmth. “It’s my pleasure. Atlantis is a place of wonders, and I want you to feel at home there. This water suit will ensure you can explore the depths with ease.”

With your belongings gathered, you and Orm make your way to the door, ready to step into the unknown together.

The two of you make your way to the beach where his Atlantean ship awaits. The sight of the vessel is nothing short of awe-inspiring, and you’re captivated by its appearance.

It resembles a magnificent fish, with two fins at the sides, each adorned with multiple blades and a sleek tail fin extending from the rear. The entire vessel is bathed in a stunning blend of bronze and gold hues, creating an otherworldly allure.

He gestures towards the Atlantean ship with a prideful smile, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of enthusiasm and fondness.

“This,” he begins, “is one of our high-speed Atlantean crafts. The design mimics the grace and speed of the ocean’s creatures.”

You marvel at the intricacies of the ship, its form unlike anything you’ve ever seen. The blades that make up the fins glint in the sunlight, creating an almost ethereal glow around the vessel. The dorsal fin, adorned with multiple blades, adds to the ship’s distinctive appearance.

You reach out to touch the smooth surface of it, marvelling at the craftsmanship. The blades that make up the fins feel cool to the touch, and the entire vessel seems to hum with a subtle energy.

“It’s beautiful,” you remark, your eyes still fixed on the Atlantean craft.

As you board the craft with Orm, he continues to share insights. “Atlantean technology combines functionality with artistry. The exterior is reinforced with materials unique to Atlantis, ensuring durability even in the depths of the ocean. And the interior is equipped with advanced systems for a comfortable and secure journey.”

Settling into the ship, you take in the surroundings. The interior seamlessly blends aesthetics with functionality. Intricate Atlantean symbols adorn the walls, casting an enchanting glow in the dim light. Orm, with a hint of amusement, points out various controls and panels, explaining their functions.

The hum of the engine fills the air as the craft comes to life.

Orm, seated beside you, his gaze lingering on your face. “It’ll take some time to reach Atlantis, but the journey is part of the experience. You’ll get to witness the beauty of the ocean depths as we travel,” he says, a genuine warmth in his voice.

The craft glides into the water with a seamless transition, and soon, you find yourself submerged beneath the waves.

The underwater world unfolds before your eyes, a mesmerising dance of marine life and vibrant coral reefs. As the ship propels forwards, you feel a sense of wonder and gratitude for the opportunity to explore this realm in a different way than before.

Orm, noticing the awe in your expression, smiles and squeezes your thigh softly. “Wait until you see Atlantis. It’s a sight like no other, and I’m thrilled to share it with you.”

_____

As the ship glides through the ocean depths, you gaze out of the transparent material that separates you from the incredible world outside. The water around the boat shimmers in a myriad of blues and greens, creating an ethereal dance of colours that captivates your marine biologist’s heart.

Orm, sitting beside you, points out various underwater wonders with evident pride. “Look there,” he says, his voice filled with admiration, “those are the illuminated gardens of the Brine Kingdom. Each glow is a different species of bioluminescent flora that thrives in the depths.”

You marvel at the ethereal beauty outside the ship’s transparent canopy. The gardens seem to dance with an otherworldly light, casting a magical glow that illuminates the surrounding waters. Schools of iridescent fish dart around, creating living tapestries of colour.

The ship continues its journey, and soon, the vast expanse of the sunken city comes into view - and it is a breathtaking spectacle of underwater grandeur.

The structures are built from living coral adorned with bioluminescent patterns that seem to pulse with the heartbeat of the ocean. The vibrant hues of coral create a mesmerising tapestry, and you can’t help but marvel at the harmonious blend of nature and Atlantean craftsmanship.

The city itself is a sprawling metropolis that seems to defy gravity, suspended in the water with otherworldly grace. Towers and spires extend into the ocean depths, their surfaces adorned with intricate carvings that tell the stories of generations past. The Atlantean architecture seamlessly integrates with the natural coral formations, creating a city that feels like an extension of the ocean itself.

As the ship glides closer to the heart of Atlantis, you catch glimpses of marine life that seem to coexist effortlessly with the Atlanteans. Schools of colourful fish swim alongside the ship, their scales glinting in the ambient light. Majestic seahorses and graceful dolphins playfully dart in and out of the city’s thoroughfares, adding to the enchanting spectacle.

The marine biologist in you is overwhelmed with awe at the diversity of aquatic life thriving in this underwater utopia. It’s a living, breathing ecosystem where Atlantean architecture seamlessly integrates with the natural environment, creating a balance that showcases the harmonious coexistence between the inhabitants and their surroundings.

Orm watches with pride as you take in the breathtaking scenery. His eyes reflect the wonder of someone who has seen this sight many times but still finds joy in sharing it with others.

When his eyes meet yours, he can see the awe and wonder in your expression, smiling at you.

“Welcome to Atlantis,” he says, his voice filled with a deep sense of belonging. “I hope you find its beauty as enchanting as I do.”

The ship descends further, and you’re surrounded by the bustling life of Atlantis. The Atlanteans, with their distinct features and iridescent attire, move with purpose through the city. The air is filled with a sense of energy and unity, and you can’t help but be moved by the sight of a society so deeply connected to the ocean.

Orm gestures towards the towering central spire, the heart of Atlantis. “That’s the Royal Palace, where the ruling council convenes. It houses the relics of our history and serves as a symbol of our unity.”

The ship passes through colossal gates adorned with Atlantean glyphs. The streets of Atlantis are bustling with activity, vibrant markets, and bustling thoroughfares filled with Atlanteans going about their daily lives.

You can’t help but be struck by the diversity of Atlantis. Different kingdoms, each with its own distinct architecture and culture, coexist harmoniously in this underwater metropolis.

The ship docks in a designated area, and you disembark with Orm into the heart of Atlantis. The city’s atmosphere is electric, a unique blend of tradition and innovation. As you walk through the bustling streets, the sights, sounds, and vibrant energy of Atlantis envelop you in a sensory symphony.

Orm, beside you, effortlessly navigates the water with a grace that captivates your attention. His every movement seems choreographed by the ocean’s currents, a dance between a skilled ruler and his boundless kingdom.

As you follow him through the underwater city, you can’t help but be mesmerised by the fluidity of his motions.

The play of light on his deep blue, tight, long-sleeved shirt with silver accents and tight blue pants accentuates the regal aura he exudes. The intricate patterns on his Atlantean attire shimmer like bioluminescent sea creatures, adding to the ethereal beauty of his presence.

Orm’s hair, once tousled by the surface winds, now flows in the water like strands of liquid silk. Each movement creates a delicate dance around him, responding to the gentle caress of the underwater currents. His eyes, a deeper shade of blue in this underwater realm, reflect the love he holds for his city and the sea.

This is who he is, where he belongs, and you find yourself in awe of him. He is already beautiful on land, but here, under the sea, he truly is a sight to behold.

Unable to resist, you reach out to touch the flowing strands of his hair. The tactile sensation is enchanting, the silkiness a testament to the purity of Atlantis’s waters. Orm turns to you, a smile playing on his lips.

His hand gently cups yours as he continues to lead the way through the underwater marvels of Atlantis. His eyes, filled with affection, convey a silent gratitude for your appreciation of his home.

As you and Orm enter the royal palace of Atlantis, the grandeur of the surroundings leaves you in awe. The intricate architecture, adorned with bioluminescent patterns, casts a mesmerising glow, creating an ambience of regality and history.

You gracefully traverse the intricacies of the ornate corridors within the royal palace, and Arthur emerges. His eyes light up with recognition upon catching sight of you, and a warm, welcoming smile graces his regal features.

“Hey there,” Arthur greets, his voice resonating with a friendly familiarity as he extends a hand in greeting, “It’s good to see you both.”

Orm responds with a nod, a tenderness evident in the way his gaze lingers on you.

“I was wondering when he’d bring you here,” Arthur teases, his tone light and playful. A subtle blush colours your cheeks as you steal a glance at Orm, who responds with an amused raise of his eyebrow.

Seizing the moment, Arthur takes the opportunity to playfully continue the banter. “Well then, let me show you around,” he suggests, gesturing for you to follow him through the resplendent corridors of the palace.

As Arthur becomes your guide, he weaves a narrative of the palace’s history, allowing the echoes of centuries past to reverberate through the grandeur of the architecture. The intricate blend of tradition and innovation in Atlantean design serves not only as a testament to their technological prowess but also as a vivid celebration of the profound connection the Atlantean people share with the ocean.

Arthur, with an air of casualness, drops a significant piece of information into the conversation.

“Our mother is also here today, brother,” he mentions, the casual tone belying the underlying significance. His eyes subtly shift toward you and Orm, leaving no doubt that her presence is connected to your arrival.

Orm has never talked much about his family, so you’re not sure what to make of this - if he even wants you to meet her.

Guided by Arthur you make your way to the throne room. The vast room is adorned with Atlantean glyphs and illuminated by the soft glow of bioluminescent crystals.

At the heart of the throne room, flanked by towering columns and shimmering tapestries, sits the imposing Atlantean throne. And there is a tall, imposing woman and you can only guess that this must be their mother.

Her gaze initially focused on the affairs of the kingdom, shifts to you and Orm. There’s a subtle warmth in her eyes as they meet yours, an unspoken acknowledgement of the significance of this meeting.

“Welcome to Atlantis,” she greets, her voice carrying a regal elegance that befits her status. “It’s a pleasure to have you here. I’m Atlanta.”

Atlanta’s graceful steps carry her towards Orm and you, the regal air surrounding her mirroring the commanding presence that Orm exudes.

The family resemblance between mother and son is undeniable, from the striking blue eyes to the light-hued hair, even if Atlanta’s is tinged with an almost ethereal shade of white.

She stops in front of Orm and wraps him in a tender embrace. Their deep connection is evident by the way they hold each other.

As they part from the embrace, there’s a brief exchange of glances, and you catch a flicker of pride in Atlanta’s eyes.

“Orm, my son,” Atlanta’s voice, regal and melodic, fills the space, “I am pleased to see you and to welcome you both to our home.”

Orm, still standing by your side, nods. “As am I, Mother. She is a significant part of my life.”

You feel a blush covering your cheeks at his words, and hearing him speak about you like that still catches you off guard.

Atlanta’s gaze shifts to you, and there’s a warmth in her eyes as she extends a welcoming nod and smiles, “I’m glad to finally meet you. I never thought my son would fall for a surface dweller.”

Part of you wants to tell her that your race doesn’t matter to either you or Orm, but you sense that she didn’t mean it in a bad way. The underlying meaning suggests that she is surprised that Orm finally made peace with the surface world.

So you offer a respectful nod and genuine smile in response, touched by the sincerity in Atlanta’s words.

Orm takes your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours, a subtle but reassuring gesture.

Atlanta smiles, the wisdom of an ageless ruler gleaming in her eyes, “Explore Atlantis, embrace its mysteries, and may the ocean guide you both on this journey.”

As you and Orm step out of the regal embrace of the throne room, the vibrant energy of Atlantis surrounds you once again. The intricacies of the palace architecture, the bustling activity of Atlanteans, and the ambient hum of underwater life create a tapestry of wonder.

Orm leads the way through a series of underwater passages, each adorned with bioluminescent patterns that seem to respond to his presence. The ambient light dances on his features, casting a mesmerising glow as you traverse the magnificent halls.

“Orm, that was incredible,” you express in awe, glancing around at the ethereal beauty that engulfs you.

He smiles, his eyes reflecting the pride of introducing you to his world. “This is just the beginning. There’s a place I want to show you, a hidden sanctuary accessible only to a few. It’s an air bubble, a haven which only the higher-borns have access. I thought it might be a unique experience for you.”

Intrigued, you follow Orm as he guides you through a series of concealed passages. The architecture becomes more intricate, and the surroundings subtly shift, indicating the exclusivity of the upcoming destination.

Finally, you arrive at an enchanting grotto adorned with shimmering corals and vibrant sea anemones. At the centre of the grotto, a translucent bubble of air encapsulates a pocket of atmosphere. It’s a surreal sight - a haven within the depths of the ocean.

Orm approaches a concealed entrance within the coral, activating an ancient Atlantean mechanism. The bubble shimmers for a moment before gently expanding to reveal a serene air-filled chamber. It’s a marvel - an oasis where the laws of the ocean seem suspended.

“This is it,” Orm explains, gesturing for you to step inside. “Here, the air is purified, and you can breathe as you would on the surface.”

You step into the bubble, and the transition from the aquatic environment to the breathable haven is seamless. The quiet ambience of the grotto soothes your senses, and the clarity of the air is refreshing as you feel your hair and clothes dripping with water.

“I come here when I seek solitude and reflection,” Orm confesses, his eyes holding a depth of emotions. “I thought you might appreciate the chance to experience a different facet of Atlantis.”

You glance around, marvelling at the surreal beauty of the hidden sanctuary, and your gaze naturally drifts towards Orm. The subdued glow of the grotto accentuates the wet sheen of his hair and clothes, droplets of water glistening like liquid diamonds against his form.

There’s a captivating allure in the way his attire clings to him, highlighting the contours of his muscular frame. The sight is both intimate and mesmerising, a testament to the fluidity of the environment you find yourselves in.

Orm, seemingly aware of your contemplation, meets your gaze with an affectionate smile. His eyes, still reflecting the depths of the ocean, hold a warmth that transcends the cool embrace of the aquatic surroundings.

“Is it strange to see me in this state?” Orm inquires playfully, running a hand through his wet hair, the strands being parted by his thick finger, clinging to them for a short moment. The droplets on his skin catch the bioluminescent glow, creating a subtle dance of light and shadow.

You chuckle, appreciating the genuine moment. “Not at all. Just appreciating the view.”

Stepping closer, Orm reaches out to gently cup your face, his thumb brushing away a stray drop of water with a tender touch.

“You’re part of this world now,” Orm murmurs, his voice carrying a resonance that resonates with a profound connection. “And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

With the enchanting ambience of the air bubble surrounding you, Orm’s gaze deepens, and the affectionate smile transforms into a longing expression. His thumb continues to trace the contour of your face, a delicate touch that conveys a silent invitation.

In the quietude of this hidden sanctuary, Orm leans in, his lips meeting yours in a tender kiss. The taste is a mingling of saltwater and something uniquely him. The kiss is both gentle and fervent, a reflection of the depth of emotions that have blossomed between you.

When the kiss finally breaks, Orm rests his forehead against yours, his eyes reflecting a myriad of emotions. The underwater glow bathes you both in a soft, otherworldly light, creating a surreal backdrop for this moment of shared intimacy.

“Being with you here in Atlantis, it feels like a dream come true,” Orm admits, his voice a hushed murmur.

You smile, genuine and feel butterflies erupting in your stomach, “It does feel like a dream, Orm. A beautiful, surreal dream.”

With a gentle caress, Orm brushes his lips against yours once more.

As the kiss lingers, it deepens in intensity, a magnetic pull that draws you closer. Orm’s hands, now firmly cradling your face, guide the rhythm of the kiss.

Orm’s lips, once gentle, now press against yours with a hunger that mirrors the intensity of the emotions swirling between you.

His fingers weave through your hair, and the sensation is electric. His touch, both confident and tender, ignites a spark of desire that resonates deep inside you.

As the kiss deepens, it becomes a fusion of passion and vulnerability. Your hands find their way to his shoulders, fingers threading through his wet hair, pulling him closer.

The world outside the grotto fades away, leaving only the two of you locked in a tender exchange.

Orm’s kisses become a series of promises, a silent declaration of the emotions he holds for you.

You feel a surge of desire, an unspoken need to explore each other further. Your hands trace the lines of Orm’s torso, fingers dancing over the fabric of his shirt.

With a shared understanding, Orm breaks the kiss momentarily, allowing you to pull the wet fabric over his head. The underwater cave bathes him in a soft, bioluminescent glow, revealing the intricate play of light and shadow on his chiselled physique.

The gentle illumination accentuates the contours of his chest and the definition of his abdominal muscles. His bare upper body glistens in the soft glow of the surroundings.

Droplets of water cling to his skin, catching the ambient light like liquid diamonds. Before cascading down his chest, refracting the radiant hues of the grotto’s shimmering glow. The deep blue of his tight-fitting shirt is now replaced by the natural shades of his bare form, creating a mesmerising sight in the enchanted underwater sanctuary.

Orm’s eyes, dark and intense, lock onto yours as he allows you to explore, each touch tinged with the ethereal quality of the underwater world. The play of light on his damp skin heightens the intimacy, turning this moment into a dance of desire.

As you run your fingers along the expanse of his chest, you marvel at the strength and grace encapsulated in his physique. While it isn’t the first time you’ve touched him, it certainly feels different - more profound and more intimate.

Orm’s hands find their place on your waist before they move to explore the contours of your torso. The touch is delicate yet fervent, his fingers tracing a path along the curve of your spine.

With a tender gaze, Orm communicates his unspoken yearning, and in a fluid motion, he begins to lift your shirt. The fabric clings momentarily to your skin, accentuated by the water.

The grotto’s soft glow plays upon the exposed skin, illuminating the contours of your form. Orm’s eyes, filled with a potent combination of desire and admiration, linger on the canvas of your bare upper body.

Orm’s fingers explore the canvas of your bare skin with exquisite tenderness as his hands trace patterns along your torso.

His gaze, a reflection of unspoken emotions, holds yours with an unwavering intensity, and Orm’s lips find yours once again. The kiss, now more fervent, echoes with the rhythms of the underwater sanctuary.

As the kiss deepens, you lose yourself in the rhythmic dance of passion, and his fingertips leave a trail of warmth in their wake.

When Orm’s lips part from yours, the magnetic pull between you remains palpable, your breath coming out in short puffs. His eyes, now darkened with desire, hold an unspoken promise of more to come.

In the soft light of the grotto, Orm’s hands become an extension of his unspoken desires. Fingers, capable and dexterous, trace invisible patterns on your damp skin. The play of light on his skin highlights the intricate details - the veins beneath the surface, the subtle flex of tendons - that collectively paint a portrait of strength and sensuality.

As your eyes trace the lines of his bare upper body, a sense of awe washes over you. The underwater light casts an almost celestial aura around him, turning the cavern into a sacred space where the beauty of Atlantis is embodied in the form of Orm. The water, a conductor of both light and desire, magnifies the allure of the Atlantean prince.

In the embrace of the cave, the ethereal glow becomes a canvas, accentuating the allure of Orm’s bare upper body. It’s a sight to behold, a convergence of strength and vulnerability, as he stands before you - a living testament to the majesty of Atlantis and the depths of the connection you now share beneath the waves.

[m0chisenpai]

Nostalgia

Pre Avatar Way of Water

platonic!Kiri x Navi!Black!Reader

When Kiri was born a certain warmth filled your life in a way you had not expected. At first you couldn’t wrap your head around how the one who loved you and practically raised you birthed a daughter. And her daughter was like her in so many ways. When you first held Kiri tears cascaded down your cheeks at the gentle baby.

How ironic was it, that just as Grace protected you, you sat here protecting her daughter. She clung to you in a way none of your mates expected.

When Kiri was born you all agreed that she needed and deserved the same love Lo'ak and Netayem received. And you all planned for some time in the future to explain her mother. She learned early, and accepted easily. Perhaps it was the innocence of a chid Neytiri mused.

But you felt something different within Kiri. How she connected with Pandora. It was the same connection ad love her mother had once. How Grace's eyes would light up in the forests and with the children.

Kiri lied on your lap, her head on your leg as you softly sang to yourself, threading and mending the beads together to the necklace for your own little one. 

“Sa’nok” you hummed as her small hands caressed your swollen stomach, “what will the little one be like?”

“Hmmm well, I have the feeling the little one will look like me more than your father. But he thinks the little one will look strongly similar to him.”

“I wish I looked like you Sa’nok.”

“You like your mother my Kiri, she was a beautiful woman with a beautiful spirit. You grow more and more into her each and every day.”

“You knew her Sa’nok?”

You smiled down at those wide eyes as you smoothed the hair from her eyes “oh yes I did. She was a fierce warrior. She fought for this tribe, for the entire forest. I remember when I first met her, do you know what she called me?”

You leaned in and whispered, “Dr.Ginger” and Kiri let out a fit of giggles as she repeated the word past girlish little giggles, “what is ginger Sa’nok?”

“Well when I first came here I was human. And I have this bright..orange hair! But humans call it ginger. So when your mother first saw me she scrunched her nose up and said “where are you heading ginger?””

You felt like a mouse under the gaze of the scientist. Out of habit you pushed your glasses up the bridge of your nose and pushed behind one of your bright coils. 

“No ma’am I was sent here to assist in the Avatar program.”

 Smoke billowed from the corner of her lip as she carelessly blew the smoke to the side.“And what are your qualifications, ginger?”

Your nose scrunched up as the fire in your ears pooled to your cheeks, but not out of embarrassment. Out of anger, and so you spat out, “for your information Dr.Augusutine you may refer to me as Dr.Ginger. I received a PHD in alien studies with my thesis on the na’vi peoples culture. In fact I wrote and assisted in the publication of multiple papers and mastered the language during my program. So excuse my language Dr.Augustine but I damn sure have just as many qualifications as you.”

The woman's face remained neutral the entire time and you just knew you’d be back to earth on the next ship to arrive. All those years, your sweet and tears. Your sister would be disappointed to hear it, you just know it. 

But the woman's lips quirked in a wry smile as she cocked her head, “how many hours have you logged Dr.Ginger?”

And you cleared your throat “around 400.”

Her hand smacked you on the shoulder which she used to push you further into the lab, “Welcome to the team.”

Unbeknownst to you as you recounted the story, the little girl fell asleep in your arms. Her head resting atop your stomach as you smiled, continuing to brush your fingers through her hair. A reminiscent smile on your face as you watched her features.

The true resemblance of her mother. And as you gazed down upon her, you allowed your own eyes to close. Unknown to you two stray woodsprites floated down to blanket the both of you carried by the gentle breeze of that warm morning.. One upon your swollen belly another on Kiri’s cheek.