#it looks so much better than the normal bright green

[confessedlyfannish]

DP x DC Writing Prompt #5

Damian does not glance back at Bruce when he knocks on the door. Instead they both wait in silence.

After a moment, the door opens.

"Hello," Jasmine, Jazz, Fenton greets politely, unsurprised to find the Waynes on her doorstep. Damian's expression grows ever darker at this revelation.

"Hello Ms. Fenton, are your parents home?" Bruce asks, placing a firm hand on Damian's shoulder, to ground as much as to restrain. To his credit he does not shake it off.

"No, they're out of town for a conference," the eighteen year-old says, opening the door wider. "But I think you'd better come in."

Bruce would normally decline, but Ms. Fenton is a legal adult and he has already, even unknowingly, waited 16 years. Damian makes the choice for him, striding past the threshold.

"Please take a seat," Jazz says as she leads them to the living room. She ignores Damian's swinging head as he takes in the home. It is deceptively large, a 90s style house filled with modern furniture. The walls are bright, with purple and green accents that would normally feel garish but somehow work. The stairs leading to the second floor are lined with family photos that Bruce yearns to take a closer look at. "Can I get you anything? Coffee? Water?"

"No, that's alright, thank you," Bruce says, taking a seat on the long plush couch. A men's windbreaker lies haphazardly thrown across one of the arms. A closed container of Oreo cookies sit on the coffee table next to a physics textbook open to chapter 16, half covered in highlighter and filled with sticky notes. There's a child's painting framed next to the tv, a handprint made to look like a thanksgiving turkey in bright blue.

For the home of experimental scientists, it is cozy and well lived-in.

Damian repeatedly glances at the stairs through the doorway.

Bruce clears his throat. "We were hoping to--"

"I've texted--oh, I'm sorry," Jazz says, having spoken at the same time. Bruce gestures for her to go on.

"I've contacted Danny, he should be here soon. He was out with some friends." Jazz explains. As she hadn't pulled out a phone in their presence, Bruce can only deduce they have some sort of camera at their front door. This also explains Ms. Fenton's complete lack of surprise at their appearance.

"So you know who we are." Damian says, the first words he's spoken since they arrived at the house and the longest sentence he's spoken since they arrived in Amity Park.

"I do," Jazz says, calm in the face of Damian's clearly simmering anger. Bruce trusts him not to attack Ms. Fenton, but he still watches him carefully.

"He told you about me," Damian says. It is the same question, but it is also not.

"He did," Jazz says.

Damian swallows. "I see," he grits out.

Jazz's neutrality slips and her face softens in sympathy. "Damian," she starts hesitantly, but before she can say anything else the front door opens.

A moment later Bruce's son walks through the doorway, and Damian is on him.

This is what Bruce hoped to prevent, but despite his numerous checks of Damian's luggage his son has still managed to smuggle a small dagger, which he now produces and swings in a calculated arc at Daniel Fenton's jugular.

Danny dodges cleanly, and dodges every swipe thereafter in a manner that speaks to continued practice long after his time at the League. Damian is a perfect product of his training, but it is up against Danny his flaws come to light. He is just as good as he always was, but Danny is better.

In a matter of seconds Damian grows frustrated and sloppy in his attacks, completely atypical for him. Danny takes Damian out at the knees and pins him down with one arm, pressing his face into the carpet.

"Calm down," he orders. His voice is deeper than Damian's at sixteen to his twelve, the accent that still traces Damian's words completely gone from his speech. Damian growls and thrusts his head back into Danny's face, meeting it with a sharp thunk. He rolls up as Danny recoils, putting distance between them. Danny glares at him from several steps away, hand to his forehead. Damian tosses the dagger into his other hand as he charges, and to Bruce's surprise Danny does nothing more than turn his face to the side, allowing Damian to draw a sharp line down his cheek.

Damian stops dead in his tracks.

"Are you done?" Danny asks, blood beginning to pool at the seam of the cut.

Damian's expression is stricken, eyes stuck on the blood starting to drip down his brother's face.

"I said, are you done, Damian?" Danny asks. His voice is cold.

Damian hears him this time, and he flushes red. "I--you--"

Danny sighs. He looks at Jazz, whose expression is back to carefully controlled.

"Are you alright?" he asks her. She nods.

"You left me," Damian accuses, standing there holding his bloody dagger limply.

Danny turns back to him, raising an eyebrow.

"You left me," Damian repeats louder, rapidly blinking.

"Yes. I did." Danny provides no excuse nor any explanation. His stance is unyielding.

Damian's eyes bounce wildly, shifting to Jazz and Danny slides smoothly in front of her, protectively. He looks at Damian warily, not as if he is his brother, but as if he is a danger. Damian flinches.

Hope is the last to die, Bruce thinks, watching as that last bit of hope Damian had is extinguished, the knowledge working its way through every inch of his body like ice in his veins. His eyes darken. He turns and runs from the room, the front door slamming shut not a moment later.

Jazz stands up, pulling a few tissues from the box on the coffee table. She presses them to Danny's face, cupping his cheek until he holds it himself. "I'm going to go get the first aid kit," she says gently. It is a thinly veiled excuse to leave them alone, and Bruce is grateful for it as she heads for the stairs.

They both wait until her footsteps have faded, taking each other in. Bruce looks at his mother's eyes and the sharp turn of Talia's nose. Damian's everything, four years older.

"You shouldn't have come here," Danny says, throwing himself on the armchair Jazz has just vacated.

"You know who I am," Bruce says carefully.

Danny glares. "I've kept your secret. She nor my parents know."

"I know," Bruce says. "That's not what I meant. You know who I am. And who I pretend to be. So you know I am familiar with masks."

"And?" Danny asks, looking vaguely bored.

"And so I can recognize when someone is wearing one. Damian will too, once he's calmed down."

Danny's expression sharpens. "No, he won't. Because you are going to go to back to whatever bed and breakfast you're staying in, pack up, hop in your private jet and fly him back to Gotham immediately before the League realizes you've gone. If they haven't already," he mutters.

"This is about the League then," Bruce says. "Do you not believe I can protect you?"

"I don't need your protection," Danny snaps, and watches Bruce actively extrapolate with a dawning resignation. "So this is the World's Greatest Detective at work," he says, slumping bonelessly into his chair, the first teenager-y thing he's done.

"Damian's in danger from the League," Bruce says. Danny glares from his slump. It's almost cute. "And as long as the League doesn't know about you, he's safe."

"Draw your own conclusions," Danny says, baring his teeth. Damian often makes the same face. "As long as you leave."

"I can protect him. I can protect you both," Bruce says. "Let me help you."

Danny closes his eyes. He centers his breathing in an exercise someone has clearly walked him through in the past. Bruce would bet money on the adoptive sister waiting patiently upstairs.

"Mr. Wayne. You are not my father," he says. "My trust in you extends to the point that I left Damian in your care, but that is where it ends. And that was when it was sanctioned by the League. By coming here you have endangered those sanctions."

Bruce disregards the sting, doubling down on his analysis. Talia had left Damian with Bruce well after Danny had left the League. But Danny speaks as if the decision had been his.

Or perhaps, Bruce realizes, it is not that Danny decided upon it, but that Danny allowed it to continue.

Bruce takes a second to review what Oracle had gone over with him before they left for Amity. Daniel Fenton had by all accounts, since leaving the League, lived a fairly normal life. His adoptive parents were eccentric scientists dabbling in the occult but their findings that bordered pseudoscience circulated a very niche community of like-minded eccentrics. The bulk of their income came from alternative energy, a more viable source of study that they'd veered harder into in the past year or so, a government contract with the EPA currently in the works. This had in part funded a vacation to an all-inclusive resort the family had taken that past summer.

Danny received average grades in school, above average in science and mathematics, declining sharply in his freshman year and sophomore year before evening out around the second semester. He had gotten into fights repeatedly with one student in particular, suspended for two weeks following an incident that resulted in a the student receiving a black eye. Teachers reported him to be highly intelligent but distracted and removed. They had recommended he be evaluated for an attention-deficit/hyperactivity disorder. He had no social media. He had missed multiple picture days. The ones he had attended he was sneezing, or a blur of movement, even going so far as to fall off his stool, legs flailing. Bruce had drank up every last one as Barbara had waited patiently.

A normal life. A family vacation to Bermuda. Average grades.

His freshman year, distracted and removed. The same year Damian had arrived at Bruce's home. Masks upon masks.

"You have informants within the League," Bruce says. Danny, to his credit, has no discernible tell. But there is no other explanation. "What will you do, if they find out you are alive?"

"That is none of your concern," Danny says, but he might as well be saying whatever I have to.

He never stopped practicing, after all.

"If they go after Damian, it is my concern."

"And that is why you need to take Damian back to Gotham before they do." Danny says. "I will take care of it."

Damian had barely spoken since he had realized Danyal was alive. But Bruce had seen the reverence in his eyes as he looked at the file.

"الوريث الصحيح" he had murmured. The rightful heir.

"You are proposing going after the entirety of the League with no backup," Bruce says. "Even if you think they won't kill you, you won't win either."

"Maybe they will," Danny says lightly. "Kill me. That would also work."

Bruce inhales sharply. "Danny," he starts.

"Go home, Mr. Wayne," Danny says, pushing himself up with one hand. The other still clutches the wad of tissue to his cheek, partially soaked with blood. "Go take care of your son."

"I'll go," Bruce says, "I'll take him to the Watchtower. And then I'll come back."

"Mr. Wayne-"

"I should've come for you," Bruce interrupts. "Sixteen years ago. I should've come for you."

Danny's brow furrows. "You had no idea I existed."

"But if I had. I would've come. I never would've left you there. And now that I know, I am not leaving you now."

For the first time Bruce watches Danny be completely caught off guard. He openly gapes at Bruce.

"You would've died," Danny lands on, voice thin. "They would've killed you."

"Unlike you, I would've brought backup." Bruce says, mimicking Danny's lightness.

He's lying. Sixteen years ago he would've thrown himself at the League to save his newborn son without a plan, without a thought beyond rescuing his baby.

Danny barks out a laugh. "You would've laid siege to Nanda Parbat with The Big Blue Boy Scout?" he looks wistful. "That would've been rad."

Bruce sees his opening. "Danny," he stands, eye to eye with his son. "Let me help you."

Danny evaluates him. "The Batman," he says softly. "I didn't want you to come, then. I didn't need one more person I had to prove myself to. All I wanted was to live amongst the stars, in the quiet of the cosmos."

"You want to be an astronaut," Bruce says. At Danny's cocked head, he says without shame, "I read your essay on personal heroes. You wrote about Edward White. Ad Astra Per Aspera."

Danny smiles slightly, sadly. "It is a rough road."

"You can be whatever you want to be," Bruce says. "I won't stand in your way."

"Even if I want to be Danny Fenton?" he asks.

"Even then."

Danny sighs. "I don't need your help Bruce," he says. "No," he says as Bruce opens his mouth. He pulls the wad of tissues away from his cheek. Underneath the splotches of dried blood the gash in his face has cleanly knit itself together, a faint white line now all that remains.

"I don't need your help," he says clearly. He holds a palm forward, and a green fire grows from its center, until the flames are licking delicately up his fingers.

"I know The Batman does not kill. But I am not a Robin. I am something else entirely," Danny says, his eyes reflecting the green of the flames. Or not, as he looks up at Bruce, his eyes green all on their own. They are sad. This is why he stayed away, Bruce realizes. Not out of fear. Danny is not afraid. Danny is tired.

But for his brother, Danny will wake up.

"And If the League takes one step towards Damian, I will raze them to the ground."

#Danny I AM RETIRED FROM MURDER Fenton #the informants are ghosts #the thing about deductive reasoning is sometimes you deduct incorrectly #particularly when you don't know about the ghosts #danyal al ghul #damian wayne #danny phantom #batman #dp x dc au #dp x dc crossover #dp x dc #dp x dc prompt #bruce wayne #this is an au where damian doesn't get blown up and lose most of his vital organs #like bruce still isn't a super responsible parent but no nine year olds blow up so that's something #danny: he only blew up once so he can stay with you #batman: he did get speared straight through but we fixed it #danny: he wHAT #i wrote this instead of eating dinner #because drafts are for the mentally healthy #tbh i don't think his name would be danyal al ghul in this one #he's trying really hard to stay under the radar I don't think he would choose essentially a homonym

[raveartts]

when you need neon bright cyan but all you have is dull cobalt

#I keep mixing bright green/yellow into it to make it better #but it makes it duller #white makes it dull too #just throw the whole painting in the trash #the face looks good but the rest?? let's not talk about it #I could PROBABLY wait till it dries and go over some areas with colored pencil #idk if that works on gouache #and my pencils aren't much brighter than my paint.... #AND FEATHERS ARE SO FUCKING IMPOSSIBLE #it's one of those things where it just... confuses my eyes and brain too much to even be able to replicate it #I can barely comprehend it #I look at my ref and see where everything is #but I get so lost in the details that I can't make out where one thing starts and stops #it all just starts blending together #so it's really hard to draw #I don't know if this is normal #or it's some sort of autistic thing to get lost in the details or have trouble comprehending how something simple works

[hihomeghere]

Dreams | Arthur Morgan/Reader

Word Count : 1.1k Summary : Arthur starts having dreams of starting a family with you Warnings/tags : Cursing, fluff, mention of infidelity, just Arthur being a sweet guy <3

He knows he shouldn’t feel like this. Shouldn’t be having these thoughts, because all they are just dreams. They’re never going to become a reality. Not when they’re constantly on the move, running from place to place. He sees the way it affects Jack, poor kid, not knowing what the hell is going on. And his daddy doesn’t exactly help him understand. 

He can’t even say he would be a better father, he wasn’t before. 

Hell you two ain’t even married yet, and he’s not that much of a fool. Not anymore. His regret for not marrying Eliza weighs heavily on him most days, even if he didn’t love her in that way. Now you on the other hand, he loves you more than anything. More than this stupid gang, more than life itself. He would happily lay down his life if he knew you would be happy, safe. 

When these thoughts enter his head, he can’t say. His days sort of blend together, making it hard to pinpoint. Although seeing you interact with Jack doesn’t help. 

You are so sweet, so motherly, hell you even mother the younger folks in the gang. Soft touches, kind words, but internally strong. You have all the qualities he finds attractive in a woman. Somehow you fell for him just as hard as he fell for you. 

But he ain’t a fool, he knows this ain’t the right time or place. So instead he writes down all these dreams in his journal, his safe place. The place where he can say anything without being judged. He dreams of little girls, he didn’t know how to interact with Isaac. Too afraid of being his own father. Girls seem less daunting, and a little you would be perfect. He already has one angel, what’s one more?

He comes up with the name while north of Brandywine Drop. The bright purple flowers caught his eye just off the trail.

Violet.

Violet Beatrice Morgan.

His heart sings, scribbling the name down in the margins of his journal. He finds himself writing VM in his journal, smiling foolishly to himself. It’s beautiful, his precious flower. 

It’s not like you meant to snoop. You were looking for Arthur, since he was nowhere to be found. You entered his tent, which in reality wasn’t much of a tent at all, finding his journal open. You walked over to it, looking over the worn page. There were the normal doodles he drew, along with his flowing hand writing. But one thing stood out to you, a pair of initials circled by hearts. VM.

You furrowed your brows, you couldn’t think of anyone you knew with the initials VM. Those definitely weren’t your initials either. 

With your curiosity peaked you flipped through a couple more pages. VM was written everywhere, along with those damn little hearts. 

You felt that little green monster grow inside you the further you looked into his journal. Biting your cheek so hard you could taste blood. It did nothing to quench the fire inside of you. 

“Darlin?” Arthur called walking into the so-called tent. You dropped the journal back onto the table, turning to face him. “There you are.” He grinned walking towards you.

“Here I am.” You said forcing a smile.

“Hosea said you were looking for me.” He said softly, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, "Anything you need?”

“Must have forgot.” You said with a noncommittal shrug, “I ought to get back to work.” You nod walking past him. Arthur furrowed his brow at your attitude. Did he say something to offend you?

Then his eyes fall onto his open journal. His stomach drops at the sight. Jesus, you saw. You saw all of it. You were probably thinking the worst, seeing the initial surrounded by hearts. How was he gonna fix this?

You stomped off to the edge of camp, trying to wrack your brain as to who this VM could be. And why was Arthur drawing hearts beside the initials? Maybe you had this all wrong, Arthur would never do anything to hurt you. He was a good man, a man you could trust. Wasn't he?

“Y/n!” He called trailing behind you, a crestfallen expression on his face. You stopped at the tree lining, biting your lip as you turned to face him. “I can explain.”

“I’m sure you can.” You scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest.

“I-“ He sighed looking down, pinching the bridge of his nose as he let out a low curse. 

“Who is she?” You asked clenching your jaw. He furrowed his brows looking up at you.

“What?” He asked, his hands settling on his hips.

“VM, the girl you keep drawing hearts around. Who is she?” You were blunt, something he loved so much. Always telling it like it is, never leaving him to guess your feelings. A small smile spread on his face, which only made you more mad. “Seriously, you think this is funny?” You hissed, taking a step towards him. Arthur only had one choice, to tell you the truth. 

“Violet.” He said softly, reaching for you. “Violet Morgan.” You let him wrap his hand around your forearm, pulling you close to his chest.

“Who is Violet Morgan?” You asked, swallowing thickly. He sighed, looking off to the side, wetting his lips.

“She’s uh-“ He shook his head, a nervous smile on his lips. “She’s not exactly real, not yet at least.” He said. 

You shook your head, brows knitted together, “Not real? The hell you mean, not real?”

“I-“ He rubbed the back of his neck looking down, “It’s uh- shit.”

“Spit it out Morgan.” You huff throwing your arms up. 

“I thought of a name,” He explained, “A name for a girl if we- if we have one some day.” He said with a shrug, his cheeks flushed, almost as though he had been in a scuffle. 

Oh.

If we have one some day. 

“Oh Arthur.” You said softly, a smile spreading across your face. Feeling suddenly very foolish for doubting your man. “That's so sweet.” You took a step forward, tilting his face up to look at you. 

“Yeah?” He asked, looping his fingers in his gun belt. 

“Yeah.” You repeated, nodding. “Jesus you had me scared you were gonna tell me you found someone else.” You chuckled, shaking your head.

“Never. There ain’t no one else in this goddamn world that could replace you.” He said his hand reached up to cup your face. “You’re uh- you’re it for me darlin.” His bright blue eyes peered into yours, love and affection pouring out in his expression. 

“When we have our girl.” You said brushing away a stray strand of honey brown hair, “Violet will be a perfect name.” He grinned, wrapping a hand around your waist.

“Guess it’s settled then.” He said as he leaned down to press his lips against yours.

#rdr2 #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption #rdr #john marston #jack marston #abigail marston #eliza #isaac morgan #hihomeghere #fluff

[georgiapeach30513]

With Your Touch, Part 1

Summary: You were supposed to be living a normal life. Perfect boyfriend, just graduated college, and ready to start your new life. Until you met him. Brooding and imposing unless his daughter is around. You knew nothing about babies, but he knew less. Tension builds, feelings flare up, but are they just because he looks extremely sexy when he's soft? Could it be because you are falling for this princess of a baby girl before him? Is it because when he's in town you're too close? The money is good, and yet his attention is better.

Pairings: Lloyd Hansen X Reader

Rating: mild

Warnings:  language, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 4.1K

Series Masterlist

*dividers created by @firefly-graphics

Lloyd scowls as he watches the scene in front of him. The crease between his brows is extra deep. He hates working in the field almost as much as he hates watching it. Idiots. He was surrounded by incompetent idiots.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” His fist slams on the table. How many shots have to be fired before they secure their target. “He’s right fucking there! Shoot his ass!”

“Lloyd,” a timid man says behind him, and Lloyd’s eyes never leave the monitors. “Mr. Hansen?”

“I don’t want to do this myself, but I fucking will! Levinson, get ready to go!” More rounds of bullets, and still the target was missed. “What the fuck is this?”

“Lloyd!”

His body goes rigid as he turns to look at the small man who is shivering. Eyes downcast to the floor so he doesn’t look at the towering man. “Why the hell are you addressing me?”

“We have a problem.”

“No, shit, Sherlock. I have two teams of mercenaries after one target, and he’s not been shot. What the fuck else could be wrong?” He leans over a bit looking at the man. “Well?”

“Who the hell brought a baby?” Ari asks, staring down at a pitiful little carrier. An envelope beside the small bundle, and her bright green eyes stare up at the large man. “This isn’t bring your daughter to work day,” her face cracks a moment as she searches his face. Lips puckering out before a scream radiates through the makeshift office. “Make it stop!”

“Where the fuck did a baby come from?” Lloyd snaps a finger at another man to take over the original issue at hand. He just needs the target killed, and he can go home for a bit. “What is this?”

Ari’s hands slap on the side of his head covering his ears, but his foot tilts the carrier to rock it a bit, but still she wails. Seeing how no one attempts to help out, or get the baby to stop, Lloyd assumes this is something he’s going to have to take care of. What else was new? Rolling his eyes in annoyance, he leans down to grab up the letter. Crumpling it up before looking down at the baby. “Mother fucker.”

Your fingers run over the empty shelves in your dorm room. Graduation has finally happened, and now it is time to leave your mark on the world. Your father didn’t bother to show up for your graduation because why would he? He never showed up personally in your life. Not really. He always made sure that everything was paid for though. It could be worse, right?

You try not to complain about your father, or your family. You had more than most and should be grateful. But then some people had attention. Sighing, you grab up your bag, and look towards the door.

“Chase,” whispering, you walk over to him, and lay your head on his chest. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“I don’t know why you feel so attached to this dorm room, honey.”

“Because it was my home,” you’re sure he didn’t fully understand, which was okay, you never bothered to explain. You kept your family dynamics quiet. He never asked why you were so quick to visit with his family for the holiday, just enjoyed you being there.

His warm arms wrap around you, and he holds you in a tight embrace. He wasn’t quite comfort, but he is sweet. He means well, and did what he could for the information that you provided to him. But this dorm room was the closet you had to a home. You had good memories here. Friends that were more like family, and now it’s gone.

You groan when the stupid sound of your absent father’s ringtone sounds off. Maybe he is actually calling to congratulate you for wasting his money on a degree that he deemed pointless. He. It probably wouldn’t matter what you did, it’d never be good enough for him.

“You gonna get that?”

“Do I have to?” You complain looking up at Chase. His mouth lifts to the side, and he nods his head. He is right. You should talk to him and quit hiding. You didn’t know what he was going to say or do. “I’ll be waiting in the car.”

“So the kid is yours?” Ari looks down at the car seat, watching the little baby cry, no one attempting to soothe or comfort her. Lloyd squats down and rubs his thumb over her cheek, and she struggles to breathe from her tears. “Are you going to hold it?”

“Can you stop referring to my daughter like she’s a thing?”

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Ari answers sarcastically. “Then pick her up. What is her name?”

“Clara told me to name her. She didn’t bother naming her. What…what do I do?” He looks up at his friend, showing the tiniest bit of emotion. “I don’t know anything about babies.”

“Start by holding her.”

“You hold her,” Lloyd is a lot of things but nurturing is far from one of them. He was a man that didn’t make mistakes, but clearly, he messed up somewhere. Of all the women he had been with only one was he stupid enough to knock up. But the way Lloyd is staring at her would suggest he almost wanted a baby.

“This is so fuck…this is so stupid. Clean up your mouth. She isn’t old enough to talk yet, but she will be,” Ari gets down to his knees, starting to remove the straps over her body. “She’s a pitiful little thing. Shh, girlie, you’re scaring your daddy before he’s properly got to look at you. There ya go,” he coos, holding the tiny girl up against his chest. Her cries soften a bit. He wonders when the last time she felt loved, because her body moves around feeling more of him.

“What’s wrong with her?” Both Ari and Lloyd’s noes turn up in disgust as they smell her. “She’s not been bathed?”

“That’s poop, Lloyd. We can’t have a baby here,” that is something Ari is certain of. Not only was this not a place for babies, he didn’t want to have to smell the baby smells.

“I didn’t ask for the baby. She was dropped on the mother fucking steps. Clara. I’ll kill that dumb trollop. Never trust desperate women. She doesn’t want money. She just didn’t want the baby. And I need her to have a name, so I’m not just calling her the baby. Ari, name her.”

“I’m not naming your spawn. She’s born of you, you name her. And my god, you gotta change this diaper, and figure out what you’re going to do in order for us to not have to deal with a baby like this. What the hell do you want?”

Lloyd turns to look at one of the analysts standing in the doorway. His thick rimmed glasses, and quiet demeanor made him one of Lloyd’s favorites. He was trustworthy, and smart. Quick. One of the few people Lloyd didn’t want to strangle. “Roman, what do you need? We’re dealing with someone.”

“You need an au pair.”

“What the hell is that?”

“It…it’s someone that will live in your home, and care for the child. They could teach them another language, and…”

“Sounds like a wife. Do I get to fuck them? Does she talk back to me?” Roman shakes his head no, wanting to say more, but doesn’t want to risk his job. He had the perfect person to help Lloyd with his little problem. “Where does one find an au pair?”

“I know someone that just recently graduated, and she speaks French. She has a degree in art history, and…”

“I need her at my house immediately,” Roman acts as if he’s about to say something until Lloyd cocks up a brow, “I will pay her handsomely.”

“You’re keeping the baby?” Ari’s answer comes in the form of Lloyd reaching towards the baby. Turning up his nose at the stench, but he holds her gently. Tenderly. He gives her a quick peck on her head. “He’s keeping the baby. Roman, call whoever. Sounds like the amount of money is not an issue.”

Staring up at the posh apartment buildings, and squeezing Chase’s hand, you wonder how you even got here. Your father didn’t do anything but give you money. You didn’t even know him. Didn’t know what he even did to make the money. And now you are taking orders from him. Allowed him to make you feel like shit for your education.

“You don’t have to listen to him,” Chase says calmly. Slipping his hand out of yours, he turns to look directly at you. “You’re a grown woman, you don’t have to listen to what daddy says.”

“Don’t call him that,” your father didn’t earn that name. That’s exactly what you called him, father. “I mean look at it, there could be worse places to live.”

“Yeah, and you’re caring for a child that isn’t yours. And where’s her parents? How often will you have this child?”

“I’m going to live with them.”

“That’s another thing, I don’t exactly like the idea that you live with them. Who are them?”

“It’s a need to know basis,” you mumble. Finally finding your footing you take a step forward. It was now or never and it seemed like it was going to be now. What did you actually have to lose? This was a guaranteed job. It’s not like you had to stay. The pay was great. And how hard could one baby be?

You were going into this job with a house, great pay, and it seemed somewhat cushy. “You’re just going to be giving another child a life without their parents.”

“And just think where I would have been without my nanny,” you spit out, feeling a bit more protective of a child that you haven't met. It wasn’t her fault anymore than it was yours. Children should be loved and taken care of, and that’s what you are going to do.

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I know you didn’t. You don’t have to go with me if you don’t approve,” sighing, Chase follows you as you walk into the building. Following the exact instructions you were given from your father. You didn’t know what you were walking into. It was just a job after all.

Neither you or Chase say another thing. He definitely could feel your irritation at the need to insert what he thought he knew about your life. Your life wasn’t horrible. You just didn’t have your parents. Especially not your father. He had a business. And whatever he did afforded you a charmed life.

Seems like this child was getting the same treatment. And if you could give her the life that your amazing nanny gave you, then you feel like you’re giving it back. You didn’t see yourself as a teacher, but maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. And it was just one small baby. Eventually she would be going to school, and that’s if you even stayed that long.

Attention was everything when it came to children. If you said no, and this was apparently an emergency, what would happen to this child? Every child deserves a good life.

You don’t fully bother knocking on the door. Just punch in the code to the apartment, and Chase tugs at your arm. He isn’t as comfortable with this as you are. Your father gave you the code, Lloyd didn’t want you to knock, he wants you to make yourself comfortable. Your eyes go wide as you look around.

You could see the house at one point was pristine, but now it’s chaotic. Empty boxes are everywhere, but all of them seem to be items for the child. Your father told you she was a baby, but not how new she was. Tiptoeing deeper into the apartment, Chase pulls you back into him.

“Announce yourself. This is weird.”

“Mr. Hansen?” The sweetest little baby gurgle comes from the next room, and you look up at Chase. “That’s a real baby, handsome. Can I go meet my employer now?”

“I’m right here. Scream if you need me.”

“Mr. Hansen?” You ask again, looking into the first room. It is an even bigger disaster. Stuff was everywhere. The room has so much potential, but why does everything seem new? “Mr. Hansen, do you need help?”

He needs a lot of help. Could barely tend to his own child. His movements seem very rigid and unsure of himself. “Yeah, I think she peed. She has on the diapers that change color when wet, but…I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“I babysat a few times,” it’s a bit of a stretch. They weren’t babies. But you’ve seen some movies. Read some things, “Let me see. Hey there, cutie,” she looks like she could break hearts. She is angelic. Chubby little legs, and the biggest dimples in her cheeks. Completely toothless with the prettiest bright green eyes and long lashes. “I think you’ve overwhelmed your daddy. Did you recently just get custody?”

There had to be a reason for this mess. But he went and spent a ton of money trying to give his daughter everything she needed and could ever want. “I just recently found out about her,” that took an unexpected turn. “I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t have the time to really devote to her, but I don’t want her to do without, and…I’m in over my head.”

So he was a bit like your father. But he seems to currently be more hands on than your father was. It was cute, in a completely not weird way at all. Lloyd was older than you. A full grown man while you had only just graduated college. “I’m not an interior designer, but I know some. The apartment is a mess, I’m aware. Lyla needs so much, and this place was just here. I never took the time to do anything. So me and my partner ordered everything we could think of. I don’t think she needs everything we got, but she could. She has her bed, and her diapers, and there’s a box of formula and food in the kitchen. Her food should be there, right? I don’t think she plays with toys yet, but there’s some somewhere.”

“Is this a Dior stroller?”

“I was told it was a pram,” you stare at him, trying not to giggle. The fact that it was Dior was the more silly part. “I can’t do what I do and have her there it’s dangerous.”

“What do you do?”

“Don’t ask,” the look he gives you makes you take a step back, gawking up at him when you realize his size. He is tall. Arms that are thick and hard as steel. His shoulders are wider than your entire body, “Lyla will be provided for, and because of that so will you. Whatever you need. I’ll leave a card for you. I won’t be able to personally get all your…well, all your needs. So this seems like the best option.”

“My needs? Like food?”

“Uh, I know that you women have things you need,” he’s an idiot. “I’ll give you a check, so this looks legit, but I can provide all your special woman needs,” huge idiot.

“Yeah, I can get my ‘womanly needs’ with my paycheck. Do…how often are you going to be here if I’m living here?”

He puffs out a bit of air, and he fully gives you attention. His daughter now has a changed diaper, and he cradles her sweetly. Some stupid expensive silver teething toy in her mouth, and his eyes roam over your entire body. He’s a bit too handsome to be a father, and one that just so happened to be your employer. His eyes are too blue, and his arms look too thick, and you gulp, clenching your thighs together. What the fuck was this witchcraft?

“Every night if possible. I typically work remotely, but sometimes I do have to go out of the country, and that leads to a few days to a week without me coming home to you and Lyla,” is he smirking? You shouldn’t feel so small and taken aback, but your stomach erupts with annoying butterflies with how hard he’s staring at you.

“Would you like to see your room? It’s next to the baby’s. My bedroom is in the front of the apartment, just off the living room. So I’ll be the first to the door. Absolutely no one in this apartment. I don’t trust people. Especially not around my child, and I guess now you come into my protection. If you need to know the apartment is in another name. I have a tendency to create a lot of enemies, and I try to keep things here as safe as possible.”

Lloyd freezes when he hears Chase sneeze. Handing you the baby, he covers you and her with his body in such a quick motion it takes your breath away. Your loss of breathing had nothing to do with his weight digging into your skin, and you surely don’t let out an odd sound that has him giving you a quick wink.

“That would be my boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend? Roman didn’t say anything about a boyfriend.”

“Roman doesn’t even know when my birthday is. Do you have a problem with Chase being here?”

“What kind of name is Chase?” With your free hand, you shove him off you. You didn’t need him that close to you. “Honestly, what kind of name is that? And I said nobody visits.”

“You just told me that. He traveled here with me because he didn’t trust that I was coming to some apartment with some weird man that lured me here under false pretense just so he could murder me.”

“I don’t lure women here. This is a safe space for my daughter. I need you to make him leave,” Lloyd didn’t need to lure women. When he wanted a woman he could have one. And wanting a woman led to him becoming a father.

“But I don’t want to be here alone with a baby that can’t talk,” his eyes narrow at you. It is like you and Lloyd are playing a tit for tat game. Going back and forth of why Chase shouldn’t be here, and why you need him here. “He has a job. He works at an IT firm. Would you really want me here alone and by myself? What if someone comes here to attack me? Then Lyla is left all alone.”

“I’ve taken precautions that this would never happen. When you’re on the clock, Lyla is your only priority,” that made you feel slightly uneasy. You had to make a note to check the neighbors. Getting a feeling that someone was tasked with watching and listening to you and Lyla.

“When am I off the clock?”

“When I am here. Unless,” he gives you that eat shit grin again, shaking his head. Is he actually flirting with you, “I shouldn’t say that, sunshine. So what should Lyla call you? Nanny seems a bit too old and mature for someone sweet like you.”

“Why not my name?” He contemplates that for a moment, looking down at his little baby who stares up at you. If babies could talk, you wonder what she is thinking of.

“Dolly.”

“What?”

“I want her to call you, Dolly. Her Dolly. Ooh, yes, I like that. Let’s see what I should do about this boyfriend,” spinning on his heels Lloyd walks down the hallway, stopping the moment he sees Chase. Your boyfriend stands up immediately, holding out his hand for Lloyd to shake.

“I don’t like you.”

“I’m sorry?” Chase looks towards you holding the baby, and takes a quick gulp. Lloyd’s eyes go between the two of you before sidestepping in front of you. His wide body blocking Chase from looking in your direction. “What is this?”

“Chase, let's get something straight, when I’m not here, Dolly is on the clock.”

“Her name isn’t Dolly.”

“When I’m here, I’ll allow her to come and go as she pleases, but just like Miss Dolly, I need to get a background check on you. I don’t want just anybody to have access to my daughter, and her au pair. And absolutely under no circumstance will you be sleeping under my roof. This is my home, and my daughter’s, and I don’t need stupid boys coming in here and tainting that,” he turns to look at you. Giving you no time at all to process exactly what he is saying. He couldn’t be serious.

“Remember, I own your father. I also own you. I’m offering you money that you can’t refuse because he just cut you off, and you’re used to a certain lifestyle. I’m providing that for you. And I don’t want limp dicks in my home. Have I made myself clear?”

“You can’t do that.”

“I can do whatever I want, Dolly. I’m Lloyd fucking Hansen. If I want to cut every single finger off your father’s hands, I will. You can either have me as your employer or your enemy. And if you walk out that door with that boy, you will be my enemy. I’m not saying you can’t date him, I’m saying I don’t want him in my house or around my daughter. Have I made myself clear?”

“Yes,” his head tilts forward, and his piercing blue eyes give you a look. A look you can’t exactly explain, but it makes you feel things. Makes you ready to do whatever it is he told you to do. “Yes, sir.”

“Good girl. Get rid of the boyfriend.”

“But you’re here.”

“And so are you. There’s no need for him to linger around, while you move in. This is just an introduction, sweetheart. I need to walk you through all the boring stuff about your job. I’ll pay you extra if you get Lyla’s bedroom situated. This place is a complete disaster, and I can’t stand it. Get rid of him,” reaching towards Lyla, he walks back down the hallway to her room, and you give Chase an awkward smile.

“Come on, he can find someone else to be the au pair.”

“I need to see this through, Chase,” he tries interrupting you. Like he usually does, but you shake your head. You did need this job. None of the other places you applied at have called you back. “I need this job. It won’t be forever. And once I get settled in, and have my first day off, I’ll spend it with you.”

“You’re really going to let him talk to you like you’re his property?”

“No, I’m not. But I see myself in that little baby, and she needs me. He doesn’t know what to do.”

“Do you?” Nope. You had no idea about babies. You didn’t even have siblings. But your bags that were in Chase’s cars had a few books with some ideas on what to do. You’d figure it out along the way. Plus, you had this odd desire to understand your dad’s job, and also what exactly Lloyd did. How did a man that instilled so much fear in you also have a soft spot for his daughter?

“You’ll call if you want to leave? No questions asked, I’ll come and get you?”

“No questions asked,” you promise, kissing his lips softly. His hands cup your ass, and Lloyd glares at him down the hallway. How did Roman allow you to grow up and be disrespected in a stranger’s home? You allowed him to kiss down your neck, and neither of you even knew he was watching.

Lloyd would never let Lyla be treated like that. He wished he could make her not get any bigger. He liked the idea of having a woman in his home. Even if it wasn’t the way that a traditional family had it, who knew what the future held. You wanted to please him. Even told Chase it was time for him to leave. He still had it.

Chase pulls off your neck, and notices Lloyd watching you. His hands slip into your back pockets, and he gives your ass a bit of a squeeze, “Who’s girl are you?”

“I’m yours, Chase. Now go on, I’ll call you later,” his eyes flick over to Lloyd, who ventures into Lyla’s room. Going to lay her down for her nap as he tries to think of ways to get rid of Chase. He is an asshole. A cocky one at that. Unfortunately he reminded Lloyd of himself. And there is only enough room in your life for one asshole.

Next

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @peaches1958 @seitmai @smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @cjand10 @midnightramyeoncravings @kmc1989 @floral-recs @pandaxnienke @theinheriteddutchess @rainydayandmondays @buckybarnesisdaddy @patzammit @xoxo-ls @rebeccapineapple @slutforchrisjamalevans @marvel-wifey-86 @jesevans @ughdontbeboring @infantasywonderland @vampy-doll @i-like-to-read-13 @missacidburn928 @charmed-asylum @honeyhoneylovelylove

#with your touch #au pair au #babysitter au #lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #lloyd hansen x fem!reader #lloyd hansen female reader #lloyd hansen x y/n #lloyd hansen x you #lloyd hansen fanfiction #lloyd hansen fanfic #lloyd hansen fic #lloyd hansen fics #chris evans #chris evans character #the gray man

[starry-bi-sky]

Clone^2 - graveyard shift

The dinging of the door alerts Sarah of someone walking in, and she barely glances up from her phone to see who it is. It's past midnight and somehow her coworker John managed to convince her to take over his graveyard shift at their convenience store. He owes her one, because she's been standing here for an hour and nobody's come in.

Not a surprise to her - nobody likes to stay out past sundown in Amity Park, even after nearly three years of ghosts appearing all over the place.

But still, it happens sometimes. So she doesn't look up. The dinging bell just lets her know that it's not a ghost, and that's really all she can ask for. The last time she worked late and a ghost came in, she was cleaning the shelves from some weird goo for an hour.

However, the lack of footsteps in the store after a few seconds worries her enough that she forces her head to lift. And a frown weaves its way onto her face when she sees no one at the door, nor anyone in the closet aisles.

...Shit, was there really a ghost here? Can they ring door when they come in? Normally she sees them just phase right through. And normally they glow, bright and jarring that leaves a migraine building behind Sarah's eyes.

Her eyes quickly scan the shelves again, looking for anything out of place -- anyone with too many heads, or too many teeth, or snakes for hair. She's pretty sure a coworker saw that once when they were working graveyard.

But she still sees no one. Apprehension raises the hair on the back of her neck, and she straightens up from her lean against the counter. Fuuuck. Was this one of those... marshmallow ghosts? An animal ghost?

Sarah really does not want to have to fight off a three-eyed raccoon looking-thing with eagle feet. She's heard the horror stories. And there was no way to contact the Phantom or the Red Huntress to come pick it up -- and she wasn't gonna try her luck with the Drs. Fentons.

Her fingers itch for the broom hanging on the wall behind her. It probably won't do much against a mutant raccoon-ghost-monster, but it'll make her feel better.

There's a rustle and crinkle in the candy aisle, and Sarah's hands are curled around the broom before she could blink. Her heart beating in her chest. She walks out from the counter, the bristled end raised like a bat in the air as she creeps apprehensively towards the noise.

There's nothing there when she peers around the side, and the aisle shelves are tall enough that she can't see over them.

She raises the broom higher. Sarah was in softball. She could take out a raccoon-eagle-hybrid.. thing.... easily. She just... needs to pretend its a golf ball. Except golf isn't softball so that's a terrible comparison.

Oh god she was gonna get her face ripped off, wasn't she.

John so owes her one. So much.

Creeping down the aisle, she keeps her ears perked for any new sounds. But all she can really hear is the soft pop music playing on the store speakers -- chosen by yours truly from her own personal playlist -- and the hum of the freezers. Ugh. This was not good for her paranoia. Like, at all.

Sarah's down at the end of the aisle when she feels a quick set of taps on her shoulder. Her nerves are already shot, so she shrieks and whirls around on her foot, swinging the broom blindly.

Only to be met with sudden and blunt resistance. Blinking rapidly, Sarah stares up and sees a black gloved hand gripping the broom handle tightly, small white bandages peeking over the side around five fingers. Following the hand down connects it with an arm, and then a chest, and suddenly she's staring at a black hoodie and black jacket.

When she tilts her head up, Sarah comes face to face with the bone-white mask and the terrifying, unearthly green eyes of their local vigilante, the Phantom.

...Holy fuck. It was the Phantom.

He was taller than she initially thought. Was her jaw on the ground? Probably. It was flapping like a fish out of water. "I- uh, you-- buh--"

Slowly, the Phantom raised his free hand and wrapped it around the handle of the broom. Sarah watches, wide eyed still and stammering as he firmly plucked the broom out of her hands and turned to lean it against the shelves.

Something about him doing that must've kicked her brain back into gear, because the first thing that comes out of her mouth is; "Your eyes are really green."

And she was going to lock herself in the freezer in the back for that one. She feels her face grow hot with embarrassment, and the Phantom only looks at her blankly. Her eyes shift nervously. "Well, it's true."

It was! The green eyes of the Phantom was his most defining feature other than that unsettling mask he wore. Especially considering they were the same color as some of the ghosts. It was one of the many, many creepy things about the guy.

Looking at it gave her the same, faint headache as when she stared at a ghost for too long. So Sarah drops her gaze a little to avoid it.

The Phantom remains silent, but he raises his hands and signs something to her that she doesn't understand. Fuck, that's right. He didn't speak - and Sarah doesn't know any ASL.

Sarah cringes. "Sorry, I don't know ASL."

She can feel his burning green eyes boring into her, and he remains as silent as the grave as he reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a phone in a plain black case. She watches him turn it on -- or at least she assumes he does, there's a privacy protector covering the screen -- and type something into.

He holds it up to her face when he's done, and she squints at the screen. In the notes app, a small text reads; 'We're ready to pay.'

..Oh. This wasn't Sarah's night. Embarrassment flashes hot through her and she forces out a laugh in order to try and quell it, Phantom shoves the phone back into his pocket. "Oh! Oh, right! I'm sorry, I'll uh- get up to the front--" She stops in her tracks.

Wait. Did that message say 'we?'

She smiles nervously, tilting her head up at the Phantom as her brows thread together. "Um," she swallows dryly, "we?" Didn't... didn't the Phantom work alone?

As if startled, the Phantom jerks. And for the first time since he showed up, he blinks and turns around. Which personally, doesn't bode that well as the Phantom swivels his head from side to side like he's looking for someone.

Sarah thinks, after the Phantom stalks up to the end of the aisle and looks around, she hears him sigh. And when he walks back, he snatches the broom with an elegant twist and knocks it against the shelves.

Thud, thud, thud!

There's very, very quiet shuffling that Sarah would have missed if she hadn't been looking for it, and then silence for a few seconds, before suddenly there's a small child pushing past her side and over to the Phantom.

And in the process, scaring the shit out of Sarah.

She squeaks and jumps, nearly tripping over her own feet as the child makes a spot next to the Phantom's side. "Where did you come from?!" She says, her heart pounding against her ribcage.

The child says nothing, just stares at her through a creepy bone-white mask reminiscent of the Phantom's. Although unlike the Phantom, he was wearing some... kind of... dark red ninja outfit?

Sarah really wasn't quite sure. It was partially covered by a jacket that clearly belonged to the Phantom and with the sleeves rolled up multiple times to his elbows. The jacket alone nearly obscured the sword attached to his hip.

...Why the hell did the child have a sword.

She looks between Phantom and the child, at a loss for words. Why-- why did the Phantom have a kid with him, why was the kid wearing a mask like his.

"You have a child with you." Sarah says bluntly, her voice flat. It betrays how shocked she feels. The Phantom doesn't say anything, as she should have expected, but he does nod shortly.

The child bristles slightly, but says nothing. Part of his mouth was uncovered, and she watched it twist downward into a scowl at her. Unlike the Phantom, his eyes were not green. She couldn't see his eyes at all, actually. They were shadowed by the mask.

There's the sound of paper thwipping, and like a magician pulling out a card, the Phantom holds out a note card to her. He stares, expectantly, and Sarah reluctantly takes it.

Written in neat writing and bold sharpie are the words; "This is Wraith."

...And that's it. Sarah glances up at Phantom. Then at the supposed 'Wraith'. Then back at Phantom. "You're bringing a child with you to ghost hunt?" She asks, and okay, maybe she's not able to hide all of the judgement leaking into her voice. "And you gave him a sword?"

The Phantom stares at her blankly, or well, probably blankly. All of his expressions are unreadable with the mask he wears. But the kid, Wraith, bristles again like a stray cat. His scowl deepens, he puffs up, and he opens his mouth like he's about to say something.

...Only for the Phantom to immediately snap his hand out and cover his mouth. Wraith makes an angry sound, and Phantom drags the boy into his side, seemingly nonplussed as he twists his wrist and pulls another note card out of nowhere.

"He is perfectly capable of handling himself." The card reads, and then continues; "I would not have been able to stop him anyways. Wraith would have followed me regardless."

Did he have these prepared?

Best not to question it, Sarah decides. The Phantom has always been strange. So she just nods mutely and stuffs the two notecards into her back pocket. "Okay," she says, and moves around the Phantom. "I'll check you out up front."

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dpxdc crossover #dpdc #clone^2 #danny fenton is not the ghost king #dp x dc crossover #dpdc crossover #danny covering damian's mouth as the phantom and the wraith will never *not* be funny to me #anyways i was thinking about this for the last two days and finally decided to write it #red huntress was also originally supposed to be here but i couldn't get a good flow going #had the idea of damian wearing danny's jacket as the wraith at first and needed to write it down #is it impractical? yeah. but its only until danny can get him a jacket that fits #amity park be cold at night okay?? damian is Littol he needs the extra layers #danny being bruce’s wayne clone -> bruce wayne being tall -> DANNY is tall #tried to kinda capture how lowkey unsettling the phantom can be from an outside perspective #was kinda successful? not much for him to do current that’s creepy tho other than stare

[jo-writes-fanfic]

Love & Mischief

Loki x Female!Reader

Rating: M (Mature)

Warnings: There's nothing explicit, some allusions to sex, probably language, violence, and heavy descriptions of grief and loss, although there is somewhat of a happy ending.

Word count: About 2.9k

Synopsis: You're Asgard's goddess of love and loyalty, but you've lost your god of mischief, how do you move forward?

Author’s note: This is set in Thor Love and Thunder. Also if you've ever seen the last scene of the show Reign, it has an inspiration in this fic too. I've had a lot of grief and loss in my life lately and this felt very therapeutic to write. I've tried writing for Loki a couple of times but always chickened out, so I really hope y'all enjoy this and hopefully there will be more to come!

I am no longer using a taglist! Instead if you would like to be notified when I post new fics follow my side blog @jo-writes-fanfic and turn your post notifications on!

“And what are you the goddess of?” 

The words resounded in your head again and again and again.

When Hela said those words to you, years ago, you had fired back, so sure of yourself and your role in Asgard, your role in your life, your role in his life. 

But now…

What was a goddess of loyalty and love who no longer had love? Who no longer believed in such things as fate and security in love? 

Your powers should have died when he did. 

It was an odd pairing to many, you knew. But it worked perfectly, your strengths and weaknesses worked in tandem and created a love worth fighting for. 

But the fight was gone. 

The god of mischief (and betrayal- some would argue) and the goddess of loyalty and love were a match made in Valhalla. 

Until he was gone, ripped from you so violently that you still woke up screaming from nightmares regularly. 

You sat next to your king in New Asgard during another security council meeting. 

You were completely zoned out, thinking of bright blue-green eyes, dark curls, and a blade-thin smile. Valkyrie nudged you. “Hey, tone it down, you're bumming out the whole room,” she whispered. 

You sighed and blinked out of your reverie, and finally noticed that the mood of the room, despite the recent good news that had been received (you can’t remember what it was - honestly, you forgot to pay attention, these meetings were very dull and tended to drone on) was altogether glum. 

“Sorry,” you whispered back and reigned your mood in. 

Normally, your powers were extremely helpful; tightening the bonds of loyalty in those around you, increasing love in both romantic and familial bonds, reading others moods - often influencing them, and sometimes even manipulating loyalties. But currently, drowning in grief as you had been the past several years, your powers were more of a burden than anything. 

The heaviness in the room instantly lightened, and the conversation flowed in a more productive direction once more. 

“We need to talk about these moods of yours,” Val said once she was satisfied that the meeting was going better. 

“No thanks,” you grumbled, and promptly zoned out once more. You really preferred it when Thor was also a mess, before he got his shit together, and you weren’t the only one that hadn’t moved on from the repercussions of the war with Thanos. But you know what they say, misery loves company. And back then, no one nagged you as much to get your shit together. 

“A little help here?” the king asked you, irritation in her tone. 

Another disagreement had broken out, this time a fist fight. Honestly, you found it amusing and were inclined to let it go on for a while, but when Val glared at you, you stood up and clapped once. 

Everyone stopped their movements immediately and looked up at you. 

“Enough,” you said sternly. “Asgard, though we may have differing opinions, we all fight for the same thing, the prospering of New Asgard. Remember that,” you ordered, infusing the room with compliance, reminding them of their bonds of loyalty. 

Everyone looked sheepish and sat back down. 

You flourished a hand to Val and said, “My king,” giving her the floor. 

She gave them all a rousing speech, it was honestly quite good, some of her best work, and then ended the dreadful meeting early, much to your relief. 

“Good job, boss. Well, I’m off-” 

“Not so fast,” she said as she caught your arm. 

You sighed once again. 

“Do we need to talk about this? About Lo-” 

“Don’t say his name,” you hissed and the tension in the room raised significantly as your anger and grief filled the space, making the large room feel claustrophobic.  

She sighed and took your hand. 

“Look, I can’t pretend to know what you’re going through and what you’ve lost. We can all feel it from time to time and I know it’s an incredibly heavy burden. I’m just concerned for you and want to help you,” she said. 

With tears in your eyes, you nodded. 

“I’m concerned about me too,” you mumbled. 

“What can I do to help? Tell me.  Anything,” she practically begged. 

“Nothing, unless you can drag him back from Valhalla,” you muttered and brushed past her. 

And life continued to trudge forward. As a goddess, never had such a short amount of years felt so long, an eternity really. 

You felt as if you were stuck in a time loop and every day was close to the same. 

You woke up and for a split second forgot he was gone and reached across your bed to find it cold. Then, a wave of grief hit you that was so heavy, each and every time, that you forgot how to breathe. 

Eventually you forced yourself out of bed, shoved some food in your mouth as you rushed out the door and met Valkyrie for early morning training. Then you usually sat by the sea and stared as the sun rose in the sky, thinking of him but trying so hard not to. And again, you forced yourself on. 

You completed your daily tasks as the King’s right hand goddess; meetings, meetings, and more meetings usually. Most nights you sat at the bar, watched Valkyrie drink an ungodly amount, then when you got bored enough you walked through New Asgard. 

You walked and walked, thinking if you moved enough, if you stayed ahead of your sadness, maybe it wouldn’t catch you in the morning. 

It always did. 

Rinse and repeat. 

There were differences of course, sometimes, you had to leave New Asgard to do the whole ambassador thing. Occasionally Thor came to visit and brought along his various cohorts and problems.  

Today was one of those days. You were improving in your hand to hand combat skills, according to your King, through your daily rigorous training sessions, which pleased you since you spent most days feeling like you wanted to fight the whole nine realms. And then, following your routine, you sat on the cliffside and stared at the sea. 

You never even got to give him a proper funeral, you thought, which then made you think of Frigga and the beautiful funeral service for her that you had watched through tears. 

A voice called your name, you looked back and for a moment, a blink and you miss it moment, you saw him. A flash of green-blue eyes and inky black hair, your heart skipped a beat and the vision was gone. 

You shook your head in an attempt to clear it, honestly these flashes of him you’ve been having lately should be concerning, but instead you clung to them, desperate for any connection to him that you could get. 

Although the true sight before you was one that made you smile, as Thor came up and wrapped you in a bear hug. 

You wheezed and when he finally put you down he chuckled heartily. 

“How are you?” he asked and you gave him a look like he should know the answer to that question. 

“Well I have something that should cheer you right up,” he said as he steered you back towards the town. 

“Does it involve needing my help to fight another dangerous life-threatening bad guy?” you asked wryly. 

“Perhaps….” he said. 

You huffed a laugh and said, “I’m in.” 

The threat you were fighting turned out to be a whole lot more dangerous and life-threatening than you anticipated. 

Which is how you found yourself on a ship with Thor, Jane, Valkyrie, and Korg on an unfortunate adventure to confront the God Butcher. 

Watching Thor and Jane fall back in love was not doing much for your mood. Val handed you another drink and you downed it. 

“Hey, hey, you’re totally bringing down the vibe, mate. This is supposed to be about love,” Korg said to you. You huffed and rolled your eyes. 

You made an effort to lessen the dark cloud you’d brought on the ship. 

“Do you think you’ll ever find love again?” Val asked you, after she confessed that she’d avoided any serious relationships for decades. 

“No,” you said, like it was final. 

“Really?” Korg asked. “Shouldn’t the goddess of love fall in love easily?” 

You shot him a glare. 

“I love. I love a great many people. But true love, like soulmates and shit, that only comes once in a lifetime. And after you’ve had it, you’re pretty much ruined for anything less. So no, I don’t think I’ll ever truly find love again,” you said with a sigh. 

“Heavy,” he replied and you cracked up. 

You laughed so hard you snorted, and at first your friends looked at you in shock, then joined you in laughter, and the room filled with love once again, the love of friendship, and you realized you’ve been overlooking the amount of love you actually had in your life due to your grief. 

You grabbed Val’s hand and patted Korg’s disembodied head, and watched Thor and Jane reignite their flame of love. 

“I love you all and am grateful for all the support you’ve given me,” you said. 

“No final confessions,” Valkyrie said, “this is not the end for any of us.” 

You nodded and then the ship reached its destination. The shadow realm yawned open in front of your vision and you gulped. 

You had this horrible feeling, like dread, in the pit of your stomach, and you saw him again. That flash you’ve seen so many times recently, but more and more frequently since this misadventure started and that dread molted in your stomach into resolve. 

You were certain and you were ready. 

Of course the plan went immediately sideways. You crossed swords with Gorr the God Butcher and your heart threatened to pound out of your chest. 

Yes, your sword fighting skills had improved, but not enough to be a good match for a seasoned warrior and god killer. 

“What are you the Goddess of? Are you even worth my sword?” he growled out. 

You gritted your teeth and went on the attack. Your rage filled the space as you dodged, slashed, and pushed him as hard as you could. 

You could hear your friends yelling, but you couldn’t lose your focus even for a moment as he pushed back and fought with skill beyond your own. 

And you realized you’d been doing this all wrong. You were fighting without your biggest asset, your own natural gifts and abilities. The powers that made you a goddess of Asgard. 

He didn’t notice your impact on his mood because your rage didn’t even touch the deep well of his own, he didn’t feel your rage due to the mountain that was his own. 

No, rage wouldn’t work, you thought, and as your swords crossed again you used your other hand to grab his. 

Your power was more potent when you were skin to skin.

You poured love and loyalty into your enemy, thinking only of happiness and good memories, trying to lessen his rage. Trying to decrease his fight, hoping to convince him to put down his sword. 

Your breath caught into a gasp as his emotions infected your own. His love and loyalty were intertwined with an ocean of grief. Just like your own. 

And you were drowning. 

His emotions, his rage at the injustice and unfairness and unending sadness felt so close to your own emotions that you were thrown back into a memory. 

Your worst memory, actually, the day you lost him for good. And you knew your enemy was in his worst memory as well. The origin of his grief. 

Just like you watched the origin of your grief as it unfolded in front of you once more. The reason for your nightmares, the reason you woke up screaming, you stepped back and gasped as the memory overcame you. 

And Gorr did the same. 

You think the sound might be the worst part. Loki’s choking. Or maybe it was the snapping sound, like a branch, a snap that ended everything for him. And for you. 

And then there’s the sight. You couldn’t even describe it, it was too awful to explain. You’ve never spoken about it, even in the therapy sessions your King forced you to attend. 

He thudded to the ground and you gasped as the vision cleared. 

You were drowning in your own grief and it was clear Gorr was more accustomed to drowning than you. 

He recovered one second quicker, and your battlefield reflexes were not quite up to par. 

You slashed your sword up but all it did was clang against his where it was embedded in your stomach. 

All the air whooshed from your lungs. 

“You are not a god that deserves death, are you?” he said as he cocked his head. “But you lost faith in yourself, in what you stand for.” 

You weren’t even sure you felt the pain. Maybe the shock inhibited your ability to feel any pain. You’d been injured before, sure, but you always felt the sharpness of it. But of course you’ve never been hurt this severely. 

You tried to speak, but it came out as a groan. 

“I am sorry,” he said and slowly slid the sword from your abdomen and you fell to your knees. Blood gushed and you saw that flash again. 

“Beautiful,” you mumbled as you saw the flash of a wry smirk, eyes full of love, and a hand outstretched towards you. Beckoning you. 

Finally, you thought. 

The last thing you heard was Thor roaring and your king calling your name as she caught you before your body hit the ground. 

There was darkness, utter darkness, and then a solid weight beneath you. 

You realized you were laying down. You were laying on the most comfortable bed you’d ever had the pleasure of sleeping on. 

Sleeping? Are you sleeping? Wasn’t there something…something painful? You couldn’t remember. 

You blinked your eyes open and let out all the air in your lungs. 

Your eyes filled with tears, this time happy tears. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, you cried happy tears. 

Loki laid beside you, close enough for you to touch, staring at you with such love in his eyes that tears spilled down your cheeks. 

“Oh,” you gasped. 

He reached out and cupped your cheek, wiping the tears away. 

You sobbed, and he shushed you even as he pulled you closer. You buried your face in his bare chest and he crushed you against him, so tight, tight enough that you were sure he would never let you go again. 

He ran his hand up and down your back, and with a start you realized you were void of clothes as well. 

You awoke in the afterlife just as you would have every day of the best years of your life with him; naked in his bed after a night of making love with adoration in his eyes as he watched you sleep. 

You took a shuddering breath and pulled back to look at him in the eyes once more, your hands never leaving his body, you ran them up his chest, across his face, twirled your fingers in his hair. 

“This is Valhalla, isn’t it?” you asked. 

“Yes, my love,” he said, and kissed the fresh tears on your cheeks away. 

Then he kissed your lips. It was a delicate thing at first, but then it molted and grew until it felt exactly like it used to. The kiss cemented you to him, secured you right where you should be, where he had been waiting for you. 

And all of the pain you experienced before that kiss didn’t even matter anymore. Because you loved him and he loved you, and that’s all. 

His lips moved against yours and your tears mixed with his and it was perfect. You loved him, that’s all. 

You weren’t angry at him for dying and leaving you alone. You weren’t drowning in heavy emotions anymore. You held no grudges or hard feelings over anyone or anything anymore, not now that you were in the arms of your greatest love once more. 

“It’s been so long,” you gasped out when he pulled back and smiled. 

“I know,” he said with a small smile. 

“I’m sorry,” you said. 

“I am as well,” he replied, simply and sweetly. 

You felt light as a feather. You felt released from your pain and anguish. You were with him again, and that’s all that mattered. 

“Isn’t the introduction to Valhalla traditionally supposed to be much different?” you asked. 

He smirked and mischief twinkled in his eyes, “It is possible I managed to bend some rules for you.” 

You huffed a laugh and pulled him into another kiss. One that could’ve lasted seconds or could’ve lasted a lifetime. It didn’t really matter. You had eternity in the hall of warriors with your Loki, and you were secure knowing you died fighting for the ones you loved. 

“Would you like me to give you the grand tour?” he whispered in your ear as he pulled back from your lips and began kissing his way across your skin. 

“Maybe later,” you said as you wrapped your arms around him and pulled him atop of you. 

“We have an eternity,” he promised and kissed you, slow and deep. 

Tagging those who showed interest in this fic (thanks for the support!) : @thespiralstaircasewriter @bellaisasleep @elly-hiddlesherloki @izhunny @drachenkinder @spacefloosie

#loki #loki x reader #loki x you #loki x y/n #loki laufeyson #loki laufesyon x reader #loki imagine #loki odinson #loki friggason #loki angst

[fogwitchoftheevermore]

@mcyt-aro-week day 3: solidarity / hobbies

It's a quiet day in Pixandria, all things considered, which is nice and rare these days. That is, until Pix hears the telltale sounds of rockets and someone skidding to a halt in the sand outside his storage room.

Pix closes the chest he was rummaging through with a sigh and walks outside to figure out which of his friends has appeared on his metaphorical front lawn. As he pokes his head out the door, he catches a flash of bright green- Jimmy, then, so this will probably be a relatively normal conversation, all things considered.

"Jimmy, hey, what's up?"

Jimmy turns around, frowning, and pulls his codboy hat lower than it's supposed to go so it covers his eyes- bad day, then.

Jimmy sighs, "Pix, can I talk to you about something?"

"Sure, sure, come on in," Pix ushers the man into the top area of the storage room and leans against one of the walls. "What's going on?"

Jimmy buries is head in his hands even further somehow and groans for a second before he starts talking. Very bad day, then.

"Well, I just left Rivendell cause Scott invited me to some sort of alliance meeting, except it wasn't really an alliance meeting, it was a date, and it was really clearly a date cause he had this tunnel of love thing going on and a picnic and it was really nice but I don't- I wasn't prepared and I don't know if I even like him- or anyone- like that but I didn't know how to tell him that in the middle of a date, so I pretended that I didn't know it was one, except it was so obviously a date so now he either thinks I'm even more of an idiot than he already did or that I was, I don't know, playing hard to get or something? I don't know how people think about these things, I just-"

Jimmy, who had been pacing and gesturing wildly the whole time he spoke, stops short, digs his palms into his eyes, and shouts a bit before stopping and looking up at Pix desperately.

"Help?"

Pix nods slowly. "Yeah, ok, that's... that's bad. So, first things first, the thing about not being sure if you like him, or anyone like that?"

Jimmy takes a deep breath and shakes out his hands a bit. "Yeah, I don't know, I think I've had like, one crush ever? And I don't even really know if that was a crush? And I like Scott, I do, even though he's kind of a jerk sometimes, but I don't think it's like that? I'm not sure."

"Ok, well, do you want to be in a relationship with Scott?"

Jimmy pauses, visibly considering. "I... have no idea."

"Ok, so, first step is, despite what you might think, not figuring that part out, because that's going to take forever. First step is getting on the same page with Scott.”

“Does it have to be? Can’t I just figure out what my deal is and then everything is fine forever?”

Pix chuckles. “If only it were that easy.”

“It’s just-!” Jimmy walks over to where Pix is leaning and joins him for about two seconds before sliding down the wall to sit on the floor. “I don’t know. I don’t know how any of this is supposed to feel, I don’t know how I’m meant to know if I like someone like that or not if I want to be in a relationship with them or what and I don’t know how everyone seems to have it so figured out!”

“I mean, I don’t think everyone else does, to be totally honest. But even if they do, well, it probably felt a lot more like… something for them.” Pix joins Jimmy on the floor, staring straight ahead as he tries to think. “Because in my experience, sometimes it feels like nothing because it is nothing, but sometimes it feels like nothing because it’s something but not with this person, but other times it feels like something even when it’s nothing-“ Pix has no idea what he’s talking about, at this point. He’s not equipped for these things, and he says as much. “Why did you come to me for this, I’m not-? Your sister’s married to your best friend, I feel like they’re much better equipped to answer the question of ‘How do you know when you want to be in a relationship with someone?’”

“I mean, probably,” Jimmy says, finally letting his codboy hat go enough that Pix can see his eyes again. “But, well… you’re you. We’re us, y’know?”

Pix does know. He knows that Lizzie is Jimmy’s sister, but Pix was the first person to see Jimmy without the Codfather head on. He knows that Joel is Jimmy’s best friend, but Pix is the one he asked to build the cod statue in his base. He knows that he’s Jimmy’s… something, and this is what they do. And that, however unfortunately, he probably is the best person to ask about this type of thing, even if he doesn’t feel like he knows what he’s talking about half the time.

Pix reaches out and puts his arm around Jimmy’s shoulders, and Jimmy instinctively moves to lay his head on Pix’s shoulder. Well, they’ll figure it out eventually.

#mcyt aro week #jimmy solidarity #pixlriffs #empires smp #i’m not tagging this as shipping but you can if you want #they’re a qpr it’s whatever you want it to be #though i will say that the crush jimmy mentions IS pix #like they’re a qpr but they don’t really call it that and jimmy did think he had a crush on pix for a bit cause he has no idea what a crush #is quote unquote supposed to be #also scott doesn’t know it but he’s also aromantic #but he’s So far from realizing that #my writing

[mayhemories]

Neteyam x reader (She/her pronouns)

Huddling for warmth trope please!

If You Wanted A Cuddle, You Could Have Asked

Uh-oh, I took 'huddling' and ran with it... I hope you're still satisfied with my interpretation of this trope, wanted to make it a little different but really could've gone a million different ways with this one! I have been loving all of the requests that have been sent, keep sending them they provide me with so much joy and purpose. <3

Pairing: Neteyam Sully x Reader (James Cameron’s Avatar) 

Requested: Yes | No

Warnings: This fluff gets a lil spicy, !!no minors!! 

Words: 1.2k

Author’s Notes: 

Neteyam is 21, reader is 21. Lo’ak and Kiri are roughly 20ish. I’m gonna estimate Tuk is 7 or 8?

Please note that the reader utilises she/her pronouns. If you’d prefer male or gender-neutral pronouns in fic I’m more than happy to repost a male or gn version of the story, otherwise include any pronoun preferences in the request box!

Taglist: @myheartfollower @luvlykrispy

Read below the cut:

You tossed and turned in your sleeping hammock. The rains had come early to you mountain home. Usually, the forest was warm, sometimes humid. But since moving to High Camp the altitude and rain came together to create something you never really felt bred for, the cold. 

You were shivering, your teeth chattering against one another in rapid succession. You felt your nose and the tips of your ears begining to burn, the pain sizzling into numbness, usually a comforting feeling to you when you were high in the sky, soaring with your ikran. But now, you just felt ill. You weren’t really one to normally care about clothes, but you were thankful for the shawl Kiri had gifted you earlier in the evening, pulling it tighter around your shoulders, bringing your knees as far as they could to your chest, in fetal position. 

Yet warmth never found you. 

You opened your eyes, groaning as you rolled onto your back, looking up at the waxed canvas and leather that built your tent. This time of year the sky often held the three moons, their light beautiful and full, causing Pandora’s bioluminescence to glow brighter, for longer. The waxed canvas was fantastic at keeping the light out at night.

Usually. 

You quickly held your hands up to your face, shivering as you did so, hands shaking ever so slightly. You could see them perfectly, like it was the middle of the day. It was far too bright in here, you could never see your hands usually. 

Your head whipped around, sitting up in your hammock you tried to find where the light was coming from. 

Right above your door, a perfect circle was cut into the waxed canvas, the moonlight flooding in, brining all the cold air with it. It would be an easy fix in the morning, just a small little patch to cover it. It wasn’t unusual for the canvas to wear or damage, or even for the leather to rip over time. But this was a perfect little hole. Like someone had done surgery on your tent to let all the cold air in and to flush you out. 

You knew it was late but you were so inconceivabley angry that someone had messed with your wall, and, that you were cold. So, you slipped out of your hammock, your aching legs hitting the ground and walked to the only person that could make you feel better about both things. 

Slipping into the Sully’s tent at night wasn’t that uncommon for you, you would always long to see your friends, and you knew Jake and Neytiri didn’t mind waking up to you being in their home, in fact they encouraged sleepovers your whole childhood, that did not fade into your adulthood. What was surprising, however, was that the Sully’s were asleep in front of their firepit that Neytiri used for cooking. They obviously had felt the cold too, despite their tent not being sabotaged. Jake laid near the door, Neytiri’s head on his chest and little Tuk asleep on his stomach. Lo’ak was only an arms length away from Neytriri laying on his back, long lanky arms strewn across his face. You stifled a laugh when you noticed Kiri, using Lo’ak’s ankles as a pillow, green shawl wrapped tightly around her, she laid like you had only moments ago, fetal, craving warmth.

Neteyam laid on the other side of the open room, furthest away from the fire, but with a woven blanket Kiri had made him for his most recent nameday. He laid with plenty of room, and conveniently, plenty of blanket. 

Neteyam had never officially courted you, or even expressed the want, or any thoughts about you at all really. 

But in all your childhood sleepovers, until now, Neteyam always left space for you, you always found eachother anyway. Even if you started of opposite sides of the room, you knew that you would end up wrapped in his thick arms, head on his chest, legs wrapped up in one another.

There was one night, last summer when you awoke in the middle of the night, Neteyam spooning you, as you so often did, but his tail had wrapped itself around your thigh. You had never felt so seen as you did that night. 

You made quick work of crawling under the blanket. You laid on your side, facing away from him, yet his relaxed features did not leave your mind. You knew you were freezing, you refrained from touching him, but his radiating heat helped nonetheless. 

You sighed, deeply. It felt so right being here like this, with him. You did not want to think about when you would inevitably find this space filled by another, for now, Neteyam had no lover, and the space was yours. 

Neteyam stirred, pulling you by the waist to be close to him, entrapping you there with his heavy arm across your abdomen. His hot breath fanned out across the shell of your ear. Your ear flicked back and forth, adjusting to the warmth and the sensitive sensation. 

“You are so cold, ma (y/n).” Neteyam whispered, his voice husky with sleep. You couldn’t help but clench your thighs to relieve some tension. “Come, we can huddle together for warmth.” Neteyam pushed his body closer to yours, entangling your legs, and wrapping his other arm under your neck. 

This was everything you wanted, but you were too hot for all the wrong reasons. You could feel Neteyam in every intimate way along your back and behind. His breath fanned over your ear and down your face, remnants of the intimacy causing goosebumps to rise on your exposed neck. 

“There was a hole in my tent.” You whispered softly to the boy nearly asleep behind you. Surely, providing context to your late night sleepover would make the whole thing more normal. 

“I know, ma (y/n).” The ghost like touch of Neteyam’s soft lips found your hair line, leaving nothing but the imagination of a kiss in its wake. “How else would I have assurance that you would come to find me in the middle of the night? Happens a lot less often these days.” You felt your stomach drop and flip simultaneously at Neteyam’s sleepy confession. You knew that this was something probably worth getting angry over, but as Neteyam’s tail wrapped around your thigh, and one of his hands ghosted over the mound of your breast, and his lips left small, barely-there kisses down the side of your face and neck, you couldn’t find it in you to be angry. 

He made you feel a lot of things in that moment, across your entire body, mind and soul. But angry was not one of them.

“I will patch it tomorrow morning, I promise.” Neteyam said softly, as his tail made its way up and down your thigh, his strong thumb rubbing circles into your hip bone. 

“I would surely hope so,” You whispered, turning your head, your lips a hairsbreadth apart. “If you wanted a cuddle, you could’ve asked Neteyam.” His lips were as warm as what you always had pictured them to be. Soft, but his kiss was not. His tongue explored your mouth, and though you tried to assert dominance you knew you would let this boy ruin you. He stifled your moan with his own mouth, though realising what he coaxed from you he pulled away, smiling in the firelight. 

“I want to do so much more than just cuddle. But this is for warmth, and warmth only.” His smile and golden eyes were always going to be enough for you to feel warmth. It did not hurt that his body was there too.

#avatar #avatar 2009 #avatar 2022 #avatar twow #avatar domestic #neteyam #neteyam x reader #neteyam sully #neteyam fluff #neteyam smut #jake sully #jake sully domestic #jake sully platonic #jake sully x neytiri

[the-travelling-witch]

𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐒 𝐎𝐍 𝐌𝐘 𝐒𝐊𝐈𝐍

summary: opening up about your insecurities is a daunting thing, but suna lets you know you’re in good hands

pairing: suna rintarou x afab! reader

warnings:  smut/ comfort, minors dni; skin-related insecurities (acne, scars, bumps, etc) with comfort, unprotected sex (use condoms, don’t get a kid or a std), pet names (doll, pretty), marking, very wholesome spice if you can say that jsjsh, also very self indulgent; i wanted to name it ‘under my skin’ first, so now i have mirotic stuck in my head

happy birthday, rin!! ♡

haikyuu masterlist

Flickering colours illuminated your dimly lit living room in arrhythmic sequences, the voices of actors paired with underlying music bouncing around the apartment. Next to you, snuggled up under a cosy blanket with you, was your boyfriend, his eyes fixed on the TV but keeping you close to his side with an arm curled around your middle. 

Leaning against his sturdy body, you sunk further into the hoodie you had stolen from his side of the closet earlier and you inhaled a noseful of the scent clinging to it, a familiar mixture of Suna’s body wash and cologne. Underneath you, you could feel his muscles flex and relax with every breath and every laugh and, inevitably, your mind drifted from the scenes on the screen to the man next to you.

There was no doubt about it, when it came to boyfriends, you somehow managed to snatch up the price catch all for yourself. Suna was attentive, caring and funny; he always checked in on you, brought food when he knew you hadn’t eaten, sent you photos, voice messages and even flowers when he was away for work and generally pestered you to take care of yourself. 

Besides all of that, he was also, of course, ridiculously beautiful. Be it his well-built body showing through every outfit he wore, whether it was loungewear, work out clothes or a suit, or the defined features of his face, the sharp slant of his olive eyes only being the highlight, he was sure to garner attention. And he did. Quite a lot, actually. The fantaken videos of him sighted on the streets or the edits you scrolled past on your timeline definitely proved your point.

Still, Rin never made you feel unwanted, the opposite, really. You could be lazing around on the couch when Rin made it seem as if you were posing for the cover of Vogue, bending down to shower you in kisses as his hands wandered like he had no control over them. Or the way he’d sidle up behind you, leaning his weight onto you like an overgrown cat just to show you dumb videos while you go about what you were doing.

Your own mind, however, was not always as kind to you as your boyfriend.

Case and point, as you looked up at him and studied his sharp jaw and smooth skin, your thoughts started heading to a darker place, one you normally kept under tight lock and seal. Certainly, no matter how genuine his compliments were, there was no way he actually meant any of them, only trying to make you feel better about yourself. After all, what would someone like him see in someone like you? 

A tap to the tip of your nose pulled you back into reality, blinking to see bright green eyes sparkling down at you. The arm around your waist adjusted its grip, allowing you to turn towards him better but holding you close again the second you had settled.

“What are you thinking about? The film’s not that deep of a thinkpiece.” The lighthearted tone and tiny smirk playing around his lips were contrasted by the inquisitive raise of a brow, letting you know he was quite serious about your answer. “And it’d better not be anything stupid.”

“Oh you know,” you vaguely gestured towards the screen as you avoided his gaze, “there’s just no way they could’ve made it out of that building before the bomb went up. That was so much longer than 30 seconds.”

There was a soft touch against your cheek where calloused fingertips tilted your head back towards him, not forcibly but determined. You were more starkly made aware of the heat radiating from his body as he leant further into you, the arm around your back giving you no chance to wind yourself out of his proximity. Under other circumstances there would absolutely be no way you’d want to in the first place. But you knew Rin was sharp enough to deduce exactly where your mind had gone if you gave him only the faintest of clues and you really didn’t want to disrupt your movie night with your insecurities.

“Very cute, doll, but you never pay attention to realism. Besides,” the ends of his hair tickled your face as his lips ghosted the shell of your ear, “do you really think I didn’t notice you burning holes into the side of my head? If there’s something you want, you only need to ask.”

“That’s what you got from that, Rin?” You laughed, pushing his head from the crook of your neck with the pad of your forefinger. “Could it be that you're projecting your own thoughts onto me?”

“What else could I be thinking about when someone this pretty has been clinging to my side the entire evening?” Your boyfriend hummed the question thoughtfully before your centre of gravity shifted. A surprised gasp later, you found yourself in his lap with your knees bracketing his hips, courtesy of the muscles flexing against the small of your back where he kept you pinned to his front. “You can’t blame a guy for getting ideas when you’re this cute.”

“You’re such a horndog, Rin,” you giggled, melting into his hold as his large palms smoothed out the material of his sweats covering your thighs, the repetitive motion relaxing as you lost yourself in each other’s eyes, despite having done so a million times before.

“It’s all your fault, doll,” Suna murmured and your gaze automatically tracked the movement of his mouth as it formed the words. Inspired by you, he mirrored the action and then his lips were on yours.

The kiss was slow and unhurried, your lips moving languidly against each other, giving you all the time in the world to bury your fingers in the hair of his nape. The swipe of his tongue asking for entry was accompanied by firm hands grabbing at your hips and pulling you so flush against him, it was like he wanted to become one entity altogether. You happily parted your lips for him so your tongues could tangle together in the same rhythm of his arms moving you to grind down on him.

When his warm hands explored the bare skin under his hoodie, however, it was like someone had sounded the alarm bells in your head. Sure, you’d been intimate with Suna plenty of times, that was nothing new, but so far, you’d avoided any positions where your back would be on display or his hands could roam too freely across it. Up until this point, you’d put up excuse after excuse and the brunet had respected your wishes but slowly you were running out of fronts to put up without addressing the real issue.

Over time, you’d gotten used to Suna seeing your face with all blemishes and impurities on display, more out of necessity than free will in the beginning. You couldn’t hide your face from him forever after all. In typical Rin fashion, he’d been so gentle and reassuring about it, thanking you for putting your trust in him and nearly making you cry in the process. 

Your back, however, was an area you could cover up way easier and that was how you kept it. The thought of him seeing the redness and scars littering the expanse of the skin there, running his hands over it and feeling the bumpy texture where other people’s would be smooth, it made you shrink in on yourself. As you wrecked your brain for a new excuse and got ready to push his hands down to your hips again, he withdrew them from the hoodie himself, making the garment feel much too big on you as he took his warmth with him.

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you for a while now,” Suna began, his voice calm as one hand settled back against your hip and the other cradled your cheek. Your fidgeting must have conveyed your discomfort, because he started drawing tiny circles onto your cheek bone, the callouses from years of playing volleyball contrasting the softness of his touch, making you subconsciously lean into the movement. “I didn’t know how to bring it up but at this point I feel like I need to know… Is there a reason you’re so reluctant to show me your back? And don’t say you don’t know what I’m talking about, I know you better than that.”

“Ah, so you noticed,” you meekly replied, swallowing hard around the words stuck in your throat. “What gave it away?”

“You’re not the best at lying to me, you know. It was pretty obvious you were making excuses for something else.” You felt like a cartoon character getting hit with an arrow through the stomach. “I just want to understand what’s putting you so on edge, so I can fix it. Whatever it is, you can tell me and I’ll work hard so you can trust me. But I won’t know what I did if you won’t tell me.”

“What you did?” You echoed incredibly. “Rin, you’ve done nothing wrong, more like the opposite, honestly. You’re like the guy out of anybody’s dreams, of course I trust you.”

“Then what is it? I don’t want to pressure you but I hate to see you uncomfortable,” Suna’s voice was soothing like a fireplace in winter as his finger smoothed out the furrow of your brows, silently telling you to take all the time you needed, he wouldn’t judge.

“It’s just– My back it’s so ugly,” you weakly admitted, opting to hide your face in the crook of his neck when holding eye contact became too painful. For a split second, Suna went as rigid as you had earlier before gingerly setting his hand down on the top of your back and running it lightly up and down to test your reaction. “Everyone has this perfect, smooth skin but mine is full of scarring and blemishes and I… I don’t want you to see how hideous I– it is.”

“Oh baby, that’s not true,” he soothed. “You are so stunning, I could never think you’re ugly.”

“No, you would,” you disagreed, shaking your head. “I already don’t know how you can say that with so much confidence, I don’t want to ultimately prove you wrong.”“So instead you just made the decision for me?” Ah, his signature deadpan response.

“Huh?”

“You are so convinced of your own perception you won’t even entertain the thought I could see something else entirely. I’m a lot of things but not a liar, doll. When I tell you you’re beautiful, I mean it.” To show he wasn’t taking offence at your words, he tapped the tip of your nose again when you emerged from your hiding spot to peer up at him. Bouncing you in his lap as if to jostle the negative thoughts from the forefront of your mind, mischief gleamed in his eyes. “Do you really think I’d put myself into this position just to make someone feel better? Usually, I only try to fuck unbelievably attractive people on my couch.”

“Oh my god, Rin! You’re such an idiot!” You were well aware your boyfriend had the tendency to be shamelessly blunt and it still made you smack your palms against his chest, though your shoulders did feel lighter at his very characteristic way of encouraging you. “Also we bought this couch together, so it’s mine as much as it’s yours.”

“The point still stands,” he nonchalantly answered, trailing one finger down the dip of your neck as his half-lidded eyes tracked its path before finding yours again. You knew that look well and it made your earlier arousal flare up again. “You’ll give me a chance to prove you wrong, won’t you, pretty? I promise you won’t regret it.”

You hesitated for a moment before mustering up all your courage. Suna had never betrayed the trust you placed in him and he’d not given you any reason to doubt him this time either. “Alright, fine.”

“Thank you.” You could feel his smile against your temple when he leaned forward to place a small peck there. “Hmm now where were we? Oh, that’s right.”

Long fingers splayed over the back of your head to tilt your head up so he could reconnect your lips once more. Just like before, the kiss started off slow and built in intensity until you were gasping for breath, a thread of a saliva connecting you until it broke from the rocking of your hips. Having foregone a bra that night, your nipples rubbed against the soft lining of the sweater, perking up from the friction.

This time, when his hands snuck under your clothes, you didn’t move to stop him, instead letting the warmth of his palms spread across your back. Slowly but steadily his touch rose higher, his fingertips nearly massaging the skin with the light pressure he was exerting. At the same time, his mouth moved south as if he wanted to meet his hands in the middle, trailing a hot path of kisses from the corner of your mouth to your jaw to just below your ear.

“The calluses of my hands, do they bother you?” A little disoriented by the low timbre of his voice and confused by the sudden question, you quickly made it known you liked them quite a lot, to which he chuckled. “See, at first, I was really insecure about it. Such rough hands handling something so precious, that didn’t seem right. But I learnt pretty quickly I was fussing about nothing, considering how you seem to love holding my hands or cumming all over my fingers.”

“That’s not a fair comparison,” you nearly whined, both at his choice of example and the way he bucked his hips up into yours. Your face felt as if it was set ablaze as his hands roamed and kneaded whatever part of skin they could find and your hips kept up a steady rhythm. “You have such nice hands, Rin.”“Something you made me aware of,” he smiled. When his lips reached the point where the collar of the hoodie wouldn't allow him to go any further, his hot breath fanned the expanse of your throat and his fingers played with the hem of his piece of clothing. “Let me do the same for you, yeah? Are you comfortable with taking this off?”

“Yeah,” you quietly affirmed, nodding your head at his request. With his help, the soft material slipped over your head and arms before being tossed somewhere next to the two of you and you fought hard to return your hands to his shoulders in lieu of covering up your bare body. 

“Shit, I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of seeing these,” Suna groaned, cupping your breasts with appreciative hands, forefingers and thumbs immediately working on rolling your pert nipples between them as the other digits fondled the surrounding area. “Look how perfect these look in my hands, like they were made to be held by me.”

A soft sigh of his name escaped you as you tilted your head back at the sensation of his warm hands contrasting with the temperature of the living room. It drew his attention back to the exposed column of your neck, focusing on the task of sucking a pulsing bruise against the spot that he knew made you weak. 

However, what you didn’t expect was him reaching around you to ghost his finger up the length of your spine, sending electricity right through you. Combined, the actions effortlessly pulled a gasp from you as you arched your back against his chest, which resulted in you pressing down hard against his bulge. His groan reverberated against your chest, a beautiful and husky sound which made you crave to hear more.

“Did that feel good? I bet it did,” Suna whispered against your feverish skin, fingers splaying out in the dip oy your back to keep you steady. “I can make you feel so much better, you know that. Just say the word.”

By now, your panties were probably soaked through as your clit pulsed with need, hips rocking in search for more friction but not getting enough to satisfy that itch inside of you. With how your heart was hammering against your ribcage, you could’ve bet Rin was able to feel it too, even through the material of his shirt. Balling the material in your fists you whimpered, “Rin, I need more, please.”

He grinned against your shoulder, pressing your chest tighter against his and grabbing the fat of your thigh with his free hand. Without any strain, he flipped you over so your back hit the couch cushions and he towered over your form, your legs still spread around his waist.

Running his hands down and back up the length of your legs, squeezing your thighs and calves appreciatively, his touch made goosebumps spread all across your body, no matter how seating it was on you. When his fingers reached the waistband of your sweatpants, playing with it as he leaned into your space, his heavy gaze met yours once more.

“Can I take these off?” No matter how clear it was you wanted this too, Suna would always ask. This night too, you willingly lay yourself in his hands as you lifted your hips to help him shimmy your pants off you, tossing them in the vague direction of the hoodie without taking his eyes off of you. He especially didn’t want to miss the string of slick sticking to your panties as they followed suit.

Drinking in the sight of your nude form, he traced a reverent finger over the seam where your legs met your hips, purposefully applying only a hint of pressure, knowing the featherlight touch was driving you positively insane. Slowly circling further in, he then caressed your outer lips covered in soft pubes, collecting your arousal with an experimental stroke over your slit but intentionally missing where you wanted him most.

“Rin, don’t tease,” you whined, squirming against the couch cushions.

“Sorry, doll, but you just look so pretty like this,” he mused, bright eyes showing not a hint of remorse. “I just have to indulge a little.”

And indulge he did. When he finally grazed his thumb over your neglected clit, his touch seemed to scorch, which only served to fuel the desire inside of you and it inevitably coaxed a wanton moan from you. Incredibly adept at reading you and keen to hear more of your sweet noises, Suna easily slid his middle finger into your hole, that at this point had been clenching around nothing. With how wet you were, he was met with no resistance at all and soon complied with your pleas for more and added his ring finger to the first.

“Shit, baby, you’re clinging to my fingers,” Suna voiced his thoughts as he smoothed one hand down the length of your leg once more to grab your ankle. Keeping up the steady pumps of his hand, curling his digits right into the spot that had your leg spasming in his hold, he turned his head to kiss the joint in his hold. However, he didn’t stop there. 

As if your leg was a fuse and he was the fire, Suna leisurely crept his affections higher, over your calves and past your knees, until you really felt ready to explode. Dimpling the flesh under his fingertips, he tightened the hold on your thigh so he could suck a myriad of hickeys on its expanse, unbothered by your incessant writhing. 

His hot breath fanned your core as his plush lips mapped out the juncture of your leg, paying careful attention to the area littered with stretch marks and covering the cause of some of your insecurities with his own marks. Like he wanted to claim your body as his, not that of the doubts in your mind. When he was satisfied with the blotches of red forming on your skin, he finally pulled back to admire his work.

“Have I been neglecting you lately?” Suna whispered, almost drowned out by the squelches of your pussy as he scissored his fingers. Looking up at you over the length of your heated body, he replaced his thumb with his kiss-swollen lips, placing a sweet peck against your clit and teasing it with the tip of his tongue. “Don’t worry, I’ll make up for it. You should never feel like this about yourself.”

“It’s not your fault, Rin,” you breathily reassured him only to be shushed by idle fingers dancing across your lower stomach, then precisely pressing down where his other hand was crooking up into.

“What kind of boyfriend lets his baby feel anything less than gorgeous?” Snaking one arm around your arched back, his long fingers covered a large part of it and held you steady against his chest as the coils in your stomach wound tighter and your toes curled at his sides. “I wish I could show you what I see. But since I can’t, I’ll have to settle for conveying it like this.”

His thumb had taken up its former spot again, resumed drawing firm figure eights on your clit and your nipples rubbed against the front of his shirt where Suna curled over you to reach your lips with his. Under the influence of his messy kiss, you felt like you were set ablaze as your boyfriend encouraged you to let go for him.

Someone might as well have replaced your blood with molten lava as your orgasm washed over you with fiery intensity and sweat pearled on your temple. Your arms slung around his body as your hands searched for whatever they could grab to hold on, be it the muscles of his shoulder or his dishevelled dark locks. Your lungs were already burning with the need for air but if you stopped kissing him, stopped vocalising your pleasure right for him to swallow it up, you thought you might die.

Suna kept up his ministrations until you were trembling like a candle in the wind before he even considered pulling his fingers from you. With half lidded eyes you watched as he brought the digits up to his mouth, cleaning up your mess with slightly exaggerated lewdness and moaning at your taste.

As he sat back up, he kept you flush against him and returned you to the position that started this all. Only this time your heightened sensitivity made you hyper aware of his arousal underneath you. 

“How are you feeling, pretty?” Nosing the crook of your neck lovingly, Suna nibbled on your salty skin where your quickened pulse thrummed underneath. His strong hands massaged your sides as you caught your breath and willed your chest to stop heaving. “Do you want to keep going?”

“You can’t do all of that and then deny me this,” you laughed breathlessly as you rolled your hips into his prominent bulge which caused him to inhale sharply. On top of everything, your boyfriend was also fucking hung, something his sweats didn’t hide in the slightest. “But I need you to take this off first.”

“Your wish is my command,” he chuckled, shrugging the shirt over his head unceremoniously, his biceps and triceps flexing in the process. While he busied himself with untangling himself from his pants, you ran an appreciative hand over the firm planes of his abs and up his pectorals. “Like what you see?”

“You know I do,” you mused, pressing a kiss against his jaw. “Got so lucky with you.”

“Hey, that’s my line,” Suna smiled, letting his hands roam over every dip and curve of your body as he urged you to straddle him again. Wasting no time, you started rocking yourself over his length, gasping every time his head caught your clit while you covered him in your arousal. After starving himself of stimulation earlier to focus entirely on you, your boyfriend shuddered at the contact. “You already feel so good doll, how am I supposed to last like this?”

“It’s okay, I want you to feel good too, Rin,” you stated but your movement was promptly stopped by two heavy hands on your hips. There was a subtle flush decorating his complexion and your heart skipped a beat. Was he really this affected just because of you? “As tempting as that sounds, tonight is all about you. No room to argue.” There was a tender finality in his tone, one that made clear he really wouldn’t budge on the topic, so you relented and melted into his hold. “Are you ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

Yes, this wasn’t the first time you’d been intimate with Suna, but it still felt like it. Every time he sunk his cock into you the stretch had you tossing your head back. From the way his thick tip slowly breached the tight ring of muscle, to the pleasant friction of his veins sliding against your walls and the satisfying feeling of being stuffed full, you believed you’d never get used to it.

“You always take me so well,” Suna panted as he bottomed out, fingers flexing against the pudge of your ass as he willed himself to patience to let you adjust to his girth, no matter how heavenly your warm cunt felt enveloping him. 

“Fuck Rin, I need you to move. Please, I–” Your brows were furrowed and you supported yourself on his chest as you started circling your hips against his while his cock pressed against all your sensitive spots so nicely.

And who was he to deny you when you asked so sweetly? 

Starting with slow and deliberate thrusts, you both knew it wouldn’t stay that way for long. While Suna normally prided himself on patience, even his was running thin by now and soon after, the rhythmic slapping of your thighs on his echoed around your apartment as he effortlessly moved you up and down on him, each thrust seemingly deeper as the previous one.

Not able to keep yourself upright for much longer, you slumped against his equally sweat-slicked chest and surrendered yourself completely to his actions, opting instead to claw at his back every time a particularly well aimed stroke had you clench your eyes shut. It was the best kind of torture and if you were exposed to it for too long you might actually go mad.

With your head nestled in the crook of his neck it gave Suna the perfect view down your back, admiring the way it bowed so graciously against his broad body or how your ass bounced with each slap of his thighs. How you were able to see anything but your beauty was something he just couldn't get behind; not because he was without insecurities but because no part of you could ever be a flaw in his eyes. Not when it made you who you were.

His fingers fluttered over the curve of your spine again, eliciting a more visceral reaction as your body shuddered and you pressed yourself tighter against him, trying to evade his searing touch while simultaneously craving more of it. Your whole body felt like you were boiling from the inside out, every part his scorching hands touched sizzling with nerves.

The constant grind of his pelvis against your clit had your walls gripping his length like a vice, making it increasingly harder for your boyfriend to pull out, let alone hold his own release back for much longer. Dipping his head down with a groan, his lips connected with your shoulder as his fingers kneaded and fondled wherever he could reach. Perhaps by the time you woke up tomorrow you wouldn’t see the blemishes you agonised over but the imprint of his fingers on your waist or the love bites littering your shoulder.

“If you don’t like these marks, I guess it’s on me to cover them with my own,” he mumbled lowly, perhaps more to himself than to you. Either way, the deep rumble of his voice so close to your ear followed by the sound of him reattaching his lips where he had left off shot down your spine like a lightning bolt. “You’re close, aren’t you? C’mon, you can do it. Show me how beautiful you are when you cream on my cock.”

The effect Suna’s voice and words had over you should maybe concern you. But you didn’t care as you came for the second time this night with a cry of his name on your lips, weightless as your boyfriend rode out your orgasm while chasing his own. Just as you came down from the aftershock of pleasure, Suna pushed inside of you as far as he could and painted your insides white.

For a few minutes, neither of you said anything, content to stay lost in the feeling of the other as two sets of hands explored the shared silhouette of your bodies. Kisses were exchanged or randomly placed wherever you could reach, Suna caressed your sides and you swept sweaty bangs out of his eyes.

“So,” Rin broke the comfortable silence, “are you still hellbent on arguing with me on this?”

Picking up his hint of playfulness, you decided to lean into it. “Hmm I dunno, the jury’s still out.”

“I thought you might say something like this,” he chuckled, pinching your side between his eyes, resulting in you yelping in surprise and sending him a half-hearted glare which was only returned in mischief. “Good thing I already planned to bend you over the back of the couch and paint your back. Bet you’d look lovely, even if you can’t get any more gorgeous than you already are. Same place and time tomorrow work for you?”

“You’re such an idiot, you know that?” You laughed at his shrugged ‘Might have mentioned it before’ before leaning up for a brief peck. “But sure, I’ll clear my schedule for you.”

After your movie night had effectively been rebranded into a shared bath Suna had drawn for you, you let the warm water rinse away most of the soreness you felt in the moment. Despite the tub being a rather snug fit with your professional athlete occupying a big chunk of it by himself, you let yourself relax against his chest.

Rin had taken it upon himself to gently scrub your body down for you, being extra careful with any of the spots he might have been a little rougher on. When it was time to dry off, he took his time to shower your back in kisses; every mark he left, every scar, every blemish, he covered them all equally in his affection and adoration. 

“I love you,” he murmured when his eyes met yours through the mirror and he tangled your fingers together. “I would never dream to change a single thing about you.”

“I love you too,” you whispered back, like it was a secret only meant for his ears. “Thank you for being so patient with me.”

“It’s nothing you have to thank me for.” Suna brought your hand up to his lips to leave a lingering kiss there too. “I’m just doing what any good boyfriend should.”

Later in bed:

“How much did you have to hold back from saying ‘I’ve got your back’?”

“You have no idea.”

© the-travelling-witch 2024 - do not repost, translate, copy or edit; do not copy into an ai

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[yeetus-feetus]

WIP Wednesday

Tumblr prompt: Tim is the first to find out the Red Hood’s identity and from then on sticks to Jason during patrol like glue (much to Jason’s chagrin, dammit, it would feel wrong to beat up Robin when he’s that starry eyed…) Cue: panic from the rest of the batfamily who still think Hood is a 40-something year old crime lord and now assume they’re dating.

@ghost-bxrd

Jason sighs, looking up at the sky dramatically. “Robin, I know you’re following me”, he calls out into the darkness, and there’s shuffling behind him.

He turns around to see Robin step out of the shadows, letting his cape fall apart and reveal bright red and green spandex and kevlar. “I wish the outside of my cape was black, I was running around like a sparkling traffic light”, he pouts under the helmet.

“Mm, maybe you should’ve taken some initiative. I designed my Robin suit all by myself, you took whatever B gave you”, Tim replies teasingly.

Jason chuckles. “Mmm, and maybe you should try humbling yourself every once and a while”. He removes his helmet and quirks an eyebrow from under his domino mask. “Hard to believe Batman never noticed you following him, I noticed you 10 yards back.”

Tim grins, holding his camera up and Jason sticks his tongue out as he takes a photo. “That’s funny, Hood, considering I started following you 50 yards ago. I got bored and started wondering how long it would take you to notice me if I started being less careful.” he explains, looking down at the screen to check the quality of the photo he just took.

“Oh, that right huh?” Jason asks sarcastically, not really believing him.

Tim’s grin widens mischievously and he waves the camera in front of his face. “Want proof, big guy?” he asks.

Jason laughs and snatches the small device, clicking through the recently taken photos. After a moment he groans defeatedly. “Yeah okay, I should've known you’d do something like that you little weirdo. so, how’d I hold up to your little test?”

Tim shrugs. “I wouldn’t call it a test, more of a game to entertain myself really”. But Jason raises his eyebrows up at him, making him sigh. “Yeah okay, you lost the game or failed or whatever. But you did fare better than Big Blue, so there’s that.”

“Oh yeah?” Jason smirks, still clicking through photos.

“Yup”, Tim says, popping the ‘p’. And hoists himself up onto the brick parapet, back facing the city as his feet dangle about an inch off the concrete roof. He tilts his head at Jason when he doesn’t move from where he’s standing, low glow of the open camera screen illuminating his face.

“These are actually really good”, Jason finally says, looking up at him. “Like really clear and in focus. It’s impressive”. He walks over and hands the camera back, leaning against the brick.

“Thanks”, Tim smiles. “I’ve always been really into photography, y'know? It’s like capturing a moment in time and immortalising it, so it will exist forever, even when I'm gone. I really like that aspect of it”.

Jason hums in response. “Never took you as someone sentimental”, he comments.

Tim is quiet, but it’s obvious he’s thinking. And then he hums back. “I didn’t realise I was either”.

This time Jason is the one observing, watching Tim rub his thumb over the side of his camera, and wonders if Tim felt the same way about his photos from before he died, if he looked at the the same way he’s looking at these photos now… if he kept jason alive in still frames while he was gone.

Then he decides he’s making it too deep and pulls out a cigarette, lighting it as Tim turns his head towards him and scrunches up his nose. “Gross, dude.”

“What?” Jason asks, mildly offended.

“I hate the smell of cigarettes”, Tim states. “I don’t care if you smoke them just, not around me, please”, he says, nose still scrunched as he shimmies away, keeping his hands braced on the brick so he doesn’t fall backwards.

Normally, Jason would roll his eyes and take a deep inhale, maybe blow the smoke back out into the other person's face just to spite them. But Tim isn’t telling him not to smoke, he’s asking him not to smoke around him. And, maybe Tim’s scrunched up nose is kinda cute.

So he snubs the cigarette out and puts it back in its box to save for later. “Fine, but I’m getting something to eat then”, Jason complains.

“Cool, I know a really good burrito place not far from here”, Tim smiles, and then he’s throwing himself backwards off the roof, laughing loudly when Jason rushes up to look over the edge.

“You little fucker!” Jason shouts out as he watches Robin shoot his grappling line and swing from a lower roof across the way. “Oh, I’m gonna get that little shit!”, he grumbles to himself, taking a breath to calm the sudden spike of worried adrenaline Tim caused before chasing after him.

Tim pays for their burritos and a tub of Mexican rice before Jason even has the chance to get out his wallet, and they end up eating them on a roof together a block away.

“Ohh yeah, this is good stuff”, Jason moans around a mouthful, and Tim giggles around his plastic spoon. “Okay, you’re forgiven for scaring the shit out of me earlier”, he mumbles, taking another bite of his burrito.

Tim sits the rice aside to take a picture of Jason with food on his face, cheeks stuffed like a chipmunk. Then another photo of Jason sticking the finger up at him. “Lol thats gold, I might make that my laptop’s screensaver”, Tim laughs.

“The laptop you keep all your creepy stalker folders on?” Jason asks, mouth still half-full, leaning over to try and get a look at the camera screen. “oh my god I look so stupid, please don’t!” he laughs.

“Oh gross Jason!” Tim squeals, brushing little bits of burrito off his suit. “Stop talking with your mouth full, you’re getting food everywhere!” but Jason only laughs harder, and ends up choking.

Tim rubs his back as he chokes and sputters over the edge of the roof, and laughs at his expense. “Here, have some of my water.”

Jason ends up chugging all of Tim’s water, so Tim steals his Soda in retaliation. It ends up as a game of rooftop tag until they’re both out of breath and decide to head to their separate ways to get some rest.

And that becomes a frequent occurrence on quiet nights after that. Sometimes even working together on a few cases. It’s honestly quite a lot of fun for both of them, a nice change of pace from the usual doom and gloom of Gotham’s streets.

⧫

Tim is tinkering away with some sort of gadget in the Batcave one afternoon when Alfred stops by with some snacks on a silver platter. “Everything alright with you young sir?” he asks politely.

“Yeah Alf, everything's great actually”, Tim replies cheerfully. But Alfred loiters by him for a few moments too long, making Tim lift his head to look at him questioningly. “What’s up?”

Alfred frowns. “Nothing, Master Timothy. Just, do know that you can come to talk to me about anything if you need, absolutely anything”. He pats Tim on the shoulder in some kind of gesture of comfort before leaving Tim confused at his desk.

What was that about?

But Tim is even more confused later on patrol with Batman. Which was already odd actually, usually they don’t patrol together unless they’re working on a case together, or on a mission, or just something important– there’s nothing important happening tonight. B just told him that they were patrolling Midtown and to get in the batmobile.

And so there they were, driving around in dead silence.

“So… Tim, how’ve you been lately?” B asks, voice gruff and tone awkward.

That makes Tim turn around in his seat to face the older man with his whole body, confusion and worry on his face. “I’m good… why the sudden interest?” he asks cautiously. “Is there something up that I should be worried about?”

Bruce grunts and spares a glance at him before looking back at the road. “I was just asking.” and then, after a few beats of quiet: “You’ve been spending an awful amount of time around the Narrows and Crime Alley”, he states. Oh. That’s Jason’s territory.

Oh.

“Are you worried about Red Hood or something?” Tim asks. Well, this is… complicated.

Bruce grunts again. “Or something.” he turns the car around a sharp corner and Tim braces himself against the seat at the sudden change of route.

He thinks whatever that conversation is over, but a few moments later Batman speaks up again. “Just stay away from him. He’s bad news Robin.” Tim turns to give him a look. “I’m serious. No more patrolling Uptown”.

“What!?” Tim asks. “Are you banning me or something??”

“Yes.” And Tim knows his word is final. Batman’s word is law after all.

He huffs and sits back in his seat, crossing his arms like a petulant child.

Fine, he won’t patrol in Uptown. He’ll just have to figure out a way to convince Jason to meet with him in Midtown somehow. No, that won’t work. Red Hood won’t leave his turf unattended to.

Buut. there is a loophole here that he can take advantage of…

#Hinted jaytim #Jaytim #tim drake #jason todd #tumblr prompt #wip wednesday #red hood #tim drake robin #Red hood but they don't know he's Jason

[inumaaaki]

"will you spend your life with me?"

TIGHNARI CONFESSING HIS FEELINGS TO YOU.

synopsis: of how tighnari avoids you once he realises he has feelings for you. because fennec foxes mate for life, what guarantee does he have that you would want that from him?

you were standing at the edge of ghandharva ville, explaining to a merchant the safest routes he should take, when you felt eyes on you.

you knew exactly who it was. so, you continue on explaining, ignoring the burning holes you felt at the back of your head. you turn your attention back towards the merchant, finally ending your explanation and biding him safe travels.

you sigh once he turns around and leaves, glad to be over with your planned daily tasks. as soon as you have that thought, however, an all-too familiar voice calls out your name.

"yes, master tighnari?"

your voice drips of venom, and with your eyes looking anywhere but at him, you fail to notice how he winces at your bitter reply, how his ears slowly droop and tail stop all movement (he couldn't control it from swishing once he approaches you, he hadn't spoken a word to you in over a week).

you cross your arms over your chest and look away. truly, you weren't trying to be mean, but how can you look at him? when he made you feel things, you'd never even imagined possible. when he had you wrapped around his finger, only to suddenly decide he doesn't want your company anymore?

or that's the theory you had come up with, anyways. you knew you had feelings for tighnari within weeks of meeting him, and you thought you two were only growing closer, forming a nice friendship. until all of a sudden, you didn't get to see him anymore. he was suddenly so busy, unable to meet you. all your patrols together had been altered, and it had gotten to a point where an entire week had passed without you getting as much as a whiff from this green-eyed man you adored so much.

another theory would be that you were simply irrelevant to him, and he was actually having extra workload and didn't even notice the sudden change.

but you should know better than to assume anything got past his keen eyes and ears.

tighnari clears his throat, and your grip on your arm tightens.

"a withering spot report has come in, you and i are going to deal with it." he simply says.

your grip tightens even more, feeling the sting of your nails digging into your skin. but it was all you could do to fight the bail forming at the back of your throat, the tears you can almost feel starting to gather in your eyes.

so this was it huh? acting like nothing has occurred. why would he act otherwise? you think bitterly, you're the only one with these stupid feelings.

you nod. "okey, i'll get my stuff." you mumble as you walk past him to your hut to grab your weapon.

you don't want to keep him waiting. even if your existence meant little to him, at the very least you didn't want him to think of you as incompetent.

you're quickly back at his side, and he begins to lead the way.

the treck is quiet. to him, perhaps, it was a normal silence. to you? you felt the pressure clogging your eyes, your breathing. this too much to you, to have him this close, yet so far away.

you refused to even look at him, even going as far as letting your hair fall over your face.

all too soon, though, he stops. "we're here." he says with a heavy tone.

you look up. you're both atop of a hill, looking down at the expense of sumeru forest. it's a beautiful sight, the wind gently carresing your neck, swaying your hair.

but as you turn around, scanning the horizon, you see no withering in sight.

"huh?" you let out in confusion, making the mistake of looking at him.

you fall silent.

he had already been looking at you. a heavy look on his face. his lips were drawn in sadness, his usual bright forest-green eyes focused in on you, the same way you saw him look when he was looking over a particular tough plant he was studying.

you swallow the lump in your throat, realizing how close he actually was, and realizing also, that seconds were passing, and he wasn't looking away.

"tighnari, what’s wrong?" you mumble, so low you barely even heard yourself. but you knew he heard you, what with the subtle flick of his ears at the sound of his name rolling off your tongue.

suddenly, he takes a step closer.

startling at his sudden movement, you squeal, backing away. what you forgot, however, was that you were standing at the very edge of a very steep cliff.

his hand reaches out and clasps around your wrist, a stern "careful!" escaping his lips. he pulls you roughly towards him away from the fall, and you find your face pressed securely into his chest.

you feel the heat creeping to your face, your breathing picking up. especially when you realise he wasn't making any moves to step away.

shyly, you pull away first.

"you need to watch where you're going," he says before you have the chance to speak. "seriously, (y/n), at this point, you'll end up dying a terrible death."

he was seriously reprimending you, huh? that was the most tighnari thing he could do. you sigh, ready to walk away, before he grabs both your hands with his.

bringing them up to his chest, he finally relaxes his face and smiles at you.

your breath catches in the back of your throat. you realise his smile is shy. his cheeks are tinted pink, and he was bouncing where he stood.

he seemed nervous.

"and i wouldn't want that," he continues. "because i care about you, so much."

you feel butterflies in your chest at his words, finding it hard to believe that he would say something like this, after weeks of indifference.

and because you suddenly remember exactly the effect his indifference had on you, you free yourself from his grasp, pushing yourself away from him. carefully, this time.

you don't miss the hurt that flashed on his face this time.

"you're being really mean, do you know that?" you want the words to sound confident, but they were barely a shaky whisper. your words flew freely with the soft breeze, confusing the fox boy before you.

"I-"

"no."

"no?"

you sigh. "what do you want from me, tighnari?" you finally ask. "there's no withering zone here, so why—?"

the answer you're seeking comes to you in the sound of rustling from behind tighnari.

"keep quiet," tighnari whispers, not unkindly. he turns and gently grabs your hand, leading you both to crouch down behind a large boulder.

you wanted to ask him what was going on, but it took only one look at him to keep quiet just like he had told you.

he was looking over the boulder at something, but it was the expression his face, the manner in which he was still holding your hand. there was a soft, warm smile on his face, as his fingers began to caress your own.

he looks at you with that peaceful expression and tilts his head towards the direction he was previously looking at.

confused, you follow his lead, craning yourself over the boulder.

you notice them immediately. tiny, playful, and impossibly cute. there were four of them.

four fennec foxes had climbed up the hill. the two cubs were rolling around, clearly playing together. their parents were not far away, cuddling together as they watched over their cubs.

you couldn't help the soft smile that pulled at your lips.

"relatives of yours?" you ask, offering the boy beside you a cheeky smile.

tighnari nudges your shoulder playfully. his eyes never leaves the happy family.

"they must have have wondered off from the desert," he whispers, voice low as to not alert the peaceful family. "i came across them three days ago."

suddenly, he squeezes your hand. but he continues to look ahead. "and it pains me say, but it took me to see them like this to realise that i can't stay away from you any longer."

your heart beats painfully against your chest, your face contorting into a mix of pain, hope, and something else you did not want to name just yet.

"(y/n)". he finally looks at you. his eyes were soft, the sad smile on his lips conveying his feelings perfectly. "i have made my choice to love you," he says. "there is nothing in this world i would want, if i don't have you by my side."

his whispers were so low, but filled with truth. you couldn't help but lean in, and he took you your positive reaction as a sign to continue.

he grabs your hands again, leaning in himself until his cheek rubs against yours. you let out a small laugh at the affectionate act. you'd just seen the cuddling fennec foxes doing exactly the same thing.

"and i am sorry it took me so long to tell you," he continues. "i want you, (y/n), all of you."

you open your eyes, tenderly meeting his soft gaze, "why then?" you're voice is lower than a whisper, but his keen ears hear you clearly. "why did you avoid me?"

his ears droop, fingers fiddling nervously with yours. "i want you for life, fennec couples get together once in a lifetime," he starts. "i didn't want to force you into making a decision like that."

your smile widens, as you nuzzle his nose affectionately. for a moment, until you laugh softly again. "force me?" you reply, "my dear tighnari, have you not heard of marriage?"

so this was why, you think happily. he wasn't indifferent to you, he loved you. he had chosen you to be his, the same way you had already chosen him. his place was fully reserved in your heart, and you knew nothing in the world would ever change that.

despite your playful jabs, your face falls into seriousness. "i would spend my lifetime with you," you say.

his breath catches in the back of his throat, and he holds you dearly, tightening his hold on your hands. as if you had eased all his worries, told him the exact thing he had dreamed of.

countless nights he had spent tossing and turning, thinking of you. of what he should do. he knew his instincts, if he should take on a mate one day, it would be for life. it was a responsibility he had shouldered all his life, one he didn't want to impose on you.

not when you were this lively, this young.

but one look in your eyes and all his fears were thrown out of the window.

in return he offers you the most beautiful smile you'd ever seen. letting go of your hands, he quickly cradles your face. "my dear (y/n)," he says through his smile, "what have i ever done to deserve you?"

he speaks before closing the distance. pressing his lips against yours. he sighs in contentment at the feeling, and you feel yourself flushing.

you kiss him back, without a second thought, butterflies dancing wildly in your stomach. your hands reach to wrap around his neck as he pulls you closer, travelling to gently massage his ears.

and when you hear it, you laugh, pulling away.

"what?" he pouts, chasing after your lips, but you only laugh more as you deny him.

"you're purring," you admit.

pink tints his cheeks, a defeated, shy smile briefly sent your way before you kiss him, enjoying his happy purrs. you'd never felt happier too.

and unbeknowst to both of you, as you continue kissing under the blue sky, the pack of foxes stops whatever they were doing and gaze at you, tilting their heads at tighnari, and not considering you a danger at all. after all, how can they? when even small animals just as them can feel the pure love and affection travelling through the gentle breeze.

#tighnari x reader #tighnari #tighnari fluff #tighnari x you #genshin x reader #tighnari imagines #genshin imagines

[suzukiblu]

Day seventeen of fic NaNoWriMo, obligatory sugar daddy Tim/sugar baby Kon AU.

“I think it's pretty normal to give someone a phone when you want to talk to them,” Tim lies. Bruce gives the other Bats burners sometimes, though. And also communicators. And Robin’s loaned plenty of allies communicators before, including Superboy. So it's normal in their circles, whether Kon actually knows they're both in said circles or not. 

“. . . I like the green one,” Kon says after a moment, which is a little bit of a surprise. It's a nice sort of deep, leafy color, Tim guesses, but he would've expected Kon to go for black or red or blue; maybe yellow. 

He wonders how green Hawaii is, come to think of it. 

And how much green Kon regularly sees these days, living underground in a lab. 

“Okay,” he says, then gestures towards the phone case display with his smoothie. “Let's get you a screen protector and a case too, just in case.” 

“You don’t have to,” Kon says. “I mean, I am gonna have my TTK on it.” 

“Yeah, but that only works if nobody knocks it off the table or something when you’re not holding it,” Tim says. “Besides, better safe than sorry, right?” 

“Um, okay,” Kon says. Tim leads him over to the phone cases, and Kon glances them over indecisively, clearly paying more attention to the price tags than personal preference. Tim decides distraction is the better part of valor, in this case. 

“I don’t recommend anything superhero-themed, for the record,” he jokes. Kon snorts. 

“That’s called a feint, thank you very much,” he informs him mock-primly. “Nobody’d think a superhero would actually have the balls to go around with a superhero-themed phone case.” 

“They’d think Superboy would,” Tim says in amusement. 

“. . . okay, fair,” Kon allows, making a face at himself. Tim laughs. 

“How about that one?” he suggests, pointing towards the second-most expensive one on the rack–so Kon will know money isn’t a concern, but also so Kon won’t realize he’s specifically doing it to make sure he knows money isn’t a concern. 

“It looks like a tire tread,” Kon says wryly, which is a fair assessment. It’s one of the heavy-duty cases, so it’s pretty bulky as it is, and the pattern on it is a little tire-like. 

“The ones down here have glitter, if that’s more your thing,” Tim replies in amusement, pointing again. 

“Glitter is more my thing,” Kon says, leaning over to peer down at the indicated row. Tim probably should’ve expected that response, considering, except also he would absolutely never have expected Kon to willingly admit to liking glitter. At least not without being concussed first. “Hmmmmm.” 

“That's a nice one,” Tim says. Kon’s looking at a green and blue case with bright gold glitter swirled all over it in abstract designs; it looks a bit like ocean water, if you look at it the right way. It’s definitely not going to be anywhere near as durable as the tire tread one would, but Tim isn’t particularly concerned about that anyway. He was gonna get accident insurance no matter what. Statistically speaking, Kon will probably go through more than a few of these. He hasn't had the same phone for longer than three months since starting up as Robin. Something always seems to happen to them. Usually a supervillain. 

“Too bad they don’t have anything with a cute little goat on it,” Kon jokes as he straightens back up, regrettably letting go of Tim's hand to take the green and blue glitter-case off the wall. “You know, commemorate our first date and all.” 

“That was not our first date,” Tim says, mildly disgruntled but mostly flustered by the idea. “I'd have planned a date a lot better than those morons planned their dumb heist. And bought you something from the gift shop, if nothing else.” 

“Could've just kept the goat, I guess, but Superman would've made me give it back anyway,” Kon muses idly as he looks over the case in his hand and takes another sip of his smoothie. “This is for the right model, right?” 

“Should be,” Tim says, though he double-checks anyway. “Yeah, no, you're good. Lemme go grab a clerk so we can get the plan set up. We'll just go through my name, I can probably set up autopay for the bill easier that way.” 

“Um, sure,” Kon says, biting his lip for a moment and then glancing sidelong at him. “So is this our first date, then?” 

“No,” Tim says, though technically it probably is. But given how Kon’s been acting about the idea that Tim would actually be interested in dedicating actual time and attention to him–“I'll take you somewhere nice for that.” 

“Somewhere nice?” Kon says, hiding a very unsubtle grin behind the phone case. It'd work better if his stupid pretty eyes weren't sparkling for it, Tim thinks in resigned accusation. Kon doesn’t ask what “somewhere nice” means, but Tim is already trying to figure out what restaurants he knows that might appeal to Kon’s palate. If he likes Hawaiian flavors . . . there’s some Asian influence in that, right? He thinks, anyway. Japanese, at least. Maybe Filipino? Polynesian? Any other influences or parallel cuisines he’d have to look up to figure out, though. 

Tim knows absolutely no Filipino or Polynesian restaurants, much less actually authentic Hawaiian ones. He could definitely do Japanese, though. Japanese would be easy. Just going to a restaurant isn’t much of a date, probably, and he can’t take Kon on patrol or anything like he and Steph used to do, but they could maybe go shopping in a nicer boutique or something? Or go to a museum for actual entertainment instead of just business, if Kon would be interested in something like that. Admittedly, it’s hard to picture him being particularly into museums as a concept, but it might be worth a try. 

Maybe he’d like the aquarium or planetarium more than something involving art or history or science, though. Those are a little cooler than just wandering through a bunch of random exhibits, Tim thinks. Or at least, they might appeal more to Kon. The ocean, or stars and planets, or . . . like, whatever, he guesses. 

He’ll have to do some recon, probably. Light interrogation. Figure out what Kon would be the most interested in. 

Or they could just go to the beach. It’d require a little bit of travel on his part, but likely wouldn’t be a big deal for Kon; he could just fly. Though in retrospect Kon’s probably spent about half his life on a beach, so maybe that’s not interesting enough. And the Jersey Shore probably wouldn’t measure up to Hawaii in his eyes, either. 

Hm. Yeah, Tim's definitely going to have to do some recon. 

Tim is possibly putting in too much effort here, considering Kon is going to lose interest in actually flirting with him in about five minutes. Kon never seems to really properly date anyone, as far as Tim's seen; just flirt around a lot. So he should be prioritizing shopping and apartment hunting, really, before Kon gets bored of the flavor of the week and wanders off. 

Tim Drake is not exactly an exciting date, so . . . yeah, Tim’s not expecting Kon to stay interested for long. He’s just got to take advantage of it for as long as it lasts to leverage Kon into letting him buy him that cul-de-sac and go from there, that’s all. Kon seems to stay friendly with the girls he flirts with even after things fizzle out or fail to go anywhere, so he assumes it won’t be any different with Tim Drake. As long as Kon’ll let him keep paying his way, that’s all that’s going to matter. 

Tim is really going to need to frontload that, though. Establish him paying for Kon as the new status quo very quickly and get Kon used to it before he loses interest in him, so he won’t feel awkward about accepting it by then. Or so Tim will already have signed all the paperwork and it’ll be too late for Kon to protest; whichever. 

He’s definitely going to have to frontload it.

#timkon #tim drake #kon el #conner kent #dc robin #superboy #young just us #young justice #rinfic #long post #wip: obligatory sugar baby kon

[judithan-fr]

Tutorial: How I Render Accents

PART 2: COLORS

I usually do not recommend 'pixel hunting' aka going over your work with a fine tooth comb and picking out stray pixels to erase. However, for setting up a proper base layer for accents it is imperative to do so.

To explain my method of color blocking: I select everything outside of the lines, invert that selection, then fill in. This does a more accurate job than going into each and every section and filling them all in individually, and is also significantly faster. Only downside is small sections like above where you can see bits of the green (which I use bright green against a dark grey background to contrast the base color, lines, and background) poking out, as well as the inner section where it filled in a spot I did not want filled in. Getting all of this right in this stage will make your life easier as you go. (It's also the method I use to color block all my work, even beyond accents)

Now this where my style of rendering color may come off intimidating and, tbh it might be. I do gradients first and then I color over them with "normal" blend layers. I typically don't use multiply layers unless I'm shading something that has a lot of textures. If this scares you, it's okay I'll keep walking you through it. Here, my gradient goes from a pastel but deep periwinkle, to a soft more cyan blue, then to a lighter pastel green. Skipping steps and going from the periwinkle to green will give it a different look. There's also hints of a pinkish tone as an accent color.

So as I said, these additional layers are done with regular "normal" blend mode layers. I've placed one in between the butterfly line art and the line art for the rest of the flowers, and then an additional layer under everything else. This allows me to create a glow effect specifically around the butterflies, and then specifically under the flowers. Going back and forth with the proper amount of opacity (by using the airbrush transparently) helps to make it glow but not be Too Loud. Also checking it against a dark background can help to check for spots where it spills past the borders, as well as really gauge how Bright it is. I've also color matched the butterflies with the flower pits and the bulbs. This adds extra cohesion and makes them all look uniform but different enough with the gradients.

The stages of how I render gems/dew drops. Take the base color, make it a bit darker and less saturated (as well as changing the hue a bit depending on what the default color is. For yellows I go more orange/red, for blues I go more purple or even pink. It depends), add a small drop light at the bottom thats a fairly saturated version of the base color, and then a stark white/ near white highlight. That's it. Don't over complicate it, it will not matter when it gets shrunk down. Note that I do not use multiply/overlay/screen layers for these types of things as it adds too much bulk to the files and doing it manually helps to strengthen your color theory skills.

For shading and rendering, again, I create a "normal" layer and simply. Draw over what exists. Color picking and hand blending allow me to create the exact shades and effects that I want that multiply/screen/overlay layers may not be able to achieve. (which isn't to say I dont use them! i just don't use them for the main meat and potato part of my coloring) All of what is shown here is also achieved with the CSP asset SOIPEN (which can be found for free in the asset store)

another example. The one on the right is showing how the layer looks without the gradient base layer under it. All of this is rendered by hand. I also specifically put a highlight color around where the butterfly is sitting to give a better illusion that it is properly sitting on the flowers rather than just in front of them.

Next is changing the color of the lines, if needed. A method i'll use is I color just the sections I want (on a separate clipping layer) then lock that layer's alpha setting to them add in a gradient. It's a small and subtle effect that adds more depth without doing a lot of effort. (work smarter not harder)

Now we get to the Polish Layers!

first image is how it looks as a base. second image is with an overlay layer applied. I've used some dark purples and mid tone desaturated greens to push the values a bit further (especially evident on the top left wing) Third image is with a screen layer applied, highlighting the inner most part of the flowers and adding some additional bounce light.

An important thing to note about making accents vs making full coverage skins: OPACITY AND LAYER TYPES MATTER OVER TRANSPARENT SPOTS. What I mean by this is that if you use a soft, light grey to shade with a multiply layer, don't clip it to anything, and have it go outside the lines - that will no longer appear as a 'shadow' when it comes to the final result. Instead you will have a section of soft light grey that is simply laid on top of whatever the image under it is. The same applies for overlay/screen/add layers and so on. If i use a very dark color on a screen layer (to give a soft highlight) and airbrush it over a bunch of stuff and don't clip it, it will end up with this horrible dark splotch over everything that isn't opaque. To this end, mastering normal layers is imperative to having well rendered and convincing accents.

Another thing of note: when it comes to sparkles/small details, note how 'large' the sparkles behind the butterflies are. They seem a bit chunky, yeah?

this is what they look like at proper size. If anything, I could have gone larger on the small metal beads connecting the dew drop jewels to the lace.

Another trick I also like to do is this:

a slight hint of transparency! It's just enough to let the dragon's lines underneath show through but not enough to be super noticable. I like to do this a lot when it comes to sparkly and magical effects.

Next is the worst part of all: destroying all that beautiful hard work with the shadow and line art layers! (sobbing)

This stage always agonizes me. This is my first pass of the shadow/line layers and let's hope it's dark enough.

But yeah that's a start to finish look at how I create my accents. Unfortunately a lot it devolves into needing to know, yknow, line weight and silhouette importance, color theory and the ways that drawing applications actually apply color to a png vs how its rendered in app. All of these things impact the finesse of the accent, and are things you do have to learn gradually over time, but hopefully this has given yall some additional insight and perhaps some helpful tips.

And this should also explain why I get so mad when people go 'hey can I get this accent in another color' no! no you literally can't!

#flight rising #dragon share #my accents #custom umas #user made accents #fr fae

[bigtreefest]

Chapter 3: Honey Trap

From: You Catch More Bees With Honey Series

Pairing: Mob! Bucky x Farmer! Reader

Summary: A Farmer’s Market and Pouring out your heart over a beer leads to Bucky learning more about his favorite mysterious farmer

Content/warnings: mentions of previous heartbreak and descriptions, a surprising amount of crying/near-crying, soft mobster Bucky, Heartless Jake, Creepy Cole, mentions of blood/period (not graphic and should be normalized because this happens to me all the time and I know I’m not alone in that), excessive drinking and lowkey alcoholism, cowboy hat rule, mutual pining and reluctance towards that, y/n used like three times

Word Count: 5,295

A/N: I didn’t mean for this chapter to be this long, but also, I definitely meant for it to be this long. Sorry for making dear, wonderful, Jake Jensen out to be a bad guy, and NOT sorry for making Cole Turner a creep. Likes, comments, reblogs, and asks are SUPER appreciated. Thank you for reading, I love you *gives forehead kiss*

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

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Bucky knew lots of languages. Country was not one of them. You would think it would be, with how many arms purchasers were from the south, but he kept his dealings with those folk as short and formal as possible. It was better for his sanity and everyone else that way.

He’d been running into a lot of country folk today, helping you run this farmer’s market out of one of your barns. Half of his conversations with people were full of twangy words and phrases he didn’t understand, so he just lightly laughed, hoping that was the right response. The other half were children, asking him what the bump was on the side of his head, the result of the bee incident earlier this week. Before, it was slightly swollen and red, but it was nearly back to normal. Darn kids have keen eyes, though, and no shame. He’d just about had enough. These people were too polite, besides their annoying children. Lucky for him, though, he’d sold off the last of the turnip greens, and his cash box was full, so he made his way over to you at the stand holding the freshly jarred honey you’d successfully, and he’d not-so-successfully harvested earlier in the week. It was just in time to catch the tail end of a conversation he saw you were having with a slightly older woman.

“You’re like our very own honeybee”

“Oh please, Mrs. Jensen, you know the bees do all the work. I just put it in a jar”

“You’re too modest, dear. My Jakey says no one makes sweeter honey than you. I always tell him to come back and help if he loves it that much, but it seems he’s too late now. Looks like you’ve got yourself a new farm hand who’s easy on the eyes”

Bucky glanced up at her through his eyelashes with his signature smirk, raising to a stand from setting the empty turnip green crate at your feet. “Well you know what they say, honeybees don’t work alone. And their hard work makes the world go round.”

For some reason unbeknownst to him, Bucky slung his hand over your shoulder. Was it jealousy he was feeling? Possessiveness? Why, he didn’t own you and he promised himself he wouldn’t fall, physically or metaphorically (although it was far too late physically, and he didn’t want to think about how close he truly was metaphorically). Plus, it’s not like he was having the best time right now. This whole week was a nightmare, and the only reason he was in a decent mood was from seeing your smile as you interacted with the town’s folk today. You were a person of the people, in juxtaposition to how Bucky was often only looking out for himself. So why did the mention of Jakey make this feel necessary and why did it feel so right? Either way, he was proud of you and your hard work and the way it made people beam as bright as Mrs. Jensen. But he’d never say that. Where he’s from, hard work is expected and definitely not praised, although not nearly as manual. But seeing all the effort for that couple jars of honey made him question if the work he was even doing was that hard. Maybe he’d been away from the city too long and was losing perspective. Yeah. That had to be it.

“Well, either way, bless y’all’s heart for putting in the work. I’ll tell Jake you say hello.”

You and Bucky both waved goodbye.

“Well how about it Honeybee, Jakey appreciates all your hard work” he smirked, but watched the smile slide off your face.

“Try telling me that with our awful breakup years ago” you shrugged off with a small chuckle, but Bucky could see the light drain out of your eyes a little. He had obviously struck a nerve, but didn’t want to push farther, at least not now when there were still a few customers aimlessly shopping around for the last bits of produce left. Maybe he’d catch you once the two of you were alone.

You turned away from him to hide your grimace. Thinking back to that whole situation with Jake, on top of serving others all morning had completely drained you and it was quickly catching up.

“Um, why don’t you finish cleaning up the rest of the empty crates after you ask those last few people how you can help them with anything” you waved off Bucky back towards the other end of the barn, head down, starting to look through the cash box he had handed you. You waited until you could hear his receding footsteps on the hay floor to sniffle and take a deep breath. Bucky had keen ears, though, and hesitated hearing your sigh, before he continued on, giving you your chance to regroup. He had never seen you like this before, you were normally chipper and full of energy, often a little too much for his liking, but luckily it was Friday, and after he closed these deals, you both were home free.

Bucky quickly helped the last few stragglers take their rather large haul back to their car. An older man and woman who owned the bar in town had come to get some fresh vegetables for their salads, and Bucky convinced them to take the lot with his charm. That, and he wanted to make sure he didn’t have to carry them all the way back to storage. That was a long way, and you made him walk it. He rolled his eyes when you had told him about the task, too, handing him the handle to a little red wagon with a beaming smile on your face, insisting “that’s how Pappy did it before his first tractor” and “what did you think, I like wasting diesel for food that’s supposed to have a low carbon footprint? That’s why I’ve got you, Bucket.” So Bucky grumbled under his breath at first light, angry, yet amused that the nickname stuck, but still too tired to react any differently when he started the first of his dozen trips to move the produce from storage into the farmer’s market barn. And there was no way he was gonna do that again, so he convinced the couple to take the lot, even offering to carry it out to the car for them, because that was better than the quarter mile walk both ways through the tall grass of your fallow fields to return them.

“Thank you so much for your help, Jamie. You’ve taken such good care of us, you should come by the bar later if you can get some free time from Miss Y/L/N over there. She’s quite the hard worker, maybe bring her along. Drinks on us.” The older lady looked at Bucky with a soft smile.

Jamie, no one had called him that since his mom. Country folk and their want for instant closeness. He hardly knew this lady and already she was trying to be endearing, but her forced charm was nothing compared yours even when you weren’t trying. She looked over Bucky’s shoulder at you carrying a stack of heavy wooden crates out of the barn, hardly struggling, but very determined before sliding them back into the truck. Bucky’s eyes followed hers, a small grin of admiration creeping onto his face at your independence and mastery at everything you do, no matter how simple.

“Yeah, hardest worker out there. I’ll see if I can convince her to take a break.” He turned back and walked the lady to her door, opening it for her to get in.

“Drive safely. Hope to see you later Mr. and Mrs. Carter.” He shut the door and made his way back over to your truck. You had already gotten in and started it with the windows down. Bucky slid into the bench seat to be met by you with your forehead resting on the wheel in between your hands. You took a sharp inhale and shot up, putting on a fake smile, albeit less forced than earlier.

“Ready to go meet Curtis? We’ve just gotta touch base with him and then we’re good to be done for the day.”

“Um, yeah. Sounds good.”

Bucky wasn’t sure how to continue with you in that mood. Should be keep talking? Did you prefer the silence to think? The radio was low on the dash, but not silent, so he decided to speak up.

“Did you see who I was helping? They said they own the bar in town. Maybe we can go for a drink tonight? Celebrate a long week done?”

You sighed. Again. “Um, yeah. I actually think that sounds really good. We both need the decompression. TGIF, ya know?” You forced out a small laugh which Bucky returned and he turned forward as you continued the drive back toward your house.

When the two of you entered the farmhouse, your were greeted by Curtis, your weekend farmhand, sitting at the dining room table. He had already helped himself to a glass of sweet tea you kept in the fridge, mainly for him, which was made from your Aunt’s recipe he loved so much.

“Oh, good, you’re back from chores already.” Curtis had been kind enough to come in today to work on some tasks since you and Bucky had your hands full with the market. He usually only worked Saturday and Sunday since this was his second job, but he’d sometimes come in to help extra, like today.

“Bucket, this is Curty b—oh sorry, Curtis. He’s the one that makes sure things run smoothly when I’m not. He’s a whiz at fixing the machinery, perks of him also being the best mechanic in town.”

Bucky warily stepped forward, eyes narrowed, barely noticeable, and shook Curtis’s hand. Who is this guy who let himself into your house? “Bucky is fine, really.”

Curtis let out a chuckle, “nice to meet you, Bucket. It’s ok, I talked to Y/N about making cheese curds once, and she’s called me ‘Curty boi’ ever since.”

Bucky laughed and shook his head, looking over his shoulder. You just shrugged with a small smile on your face, already more relaxed and relieved to be inside your home with someone you didn’t feel like you had to put up a front for, that was reassuring. Bucky went into the kitchen to get you both a glass of water as you sat next to Curtis at the table, joined by Bucky sitting across after he handed you your glass. The three of you briefly talked about the chores Curtis had done that day, how the farmer’s market went, and what all needed done that weekend.

Curtis seemed nice, not threatening. The visceral tinge of jealousy left Bucky’s body as the conversation went on. If Curtis was going to make a move, he would’ve done it by now, surely. But the two of you were clearly just close friends. Why did Bucky keep feeling like this?

As you wrapped up, Curtis slapped his knees with both his hands and went to stand. “Well, I better get going, sun’s starting to get pretty low.”

Curtis and Bucky had been getting along pretty well, so you spoke up. “Well actually, Bucky and I were gonna go to the bar in town tonight. Care to join?”

“Yeah, I’d love to. There are just a few things I’ve gotta check on in the shop first, but I can drop by after. Does that work?”

“For sure. We’ll see you then” You and Bucky shared a small smile before you closed the door behind Curtis and turned back to the mob boss standing in your foyer.

“Ok, Cowboy. Good job today. Go take a shower, we’re going out.” Bucky beamed, which you returned, and he felt a warmth bloom in his chest at your praise.

“Yes, ma’am, Miss Honeybee” you smiled and rolled your eyes as he ran up the steps, following behind to get ready, yourself. He was really glad your mood was starting to turn around.

As Bucky went to his room to gather his clothing, his mind started to drift towards why he cared how you felt. He was just here for business, right? So why did it bother him if you were sad? If anything, he should want you vulnerable to help him come out on top of your business, but something deep inside of him felt more satisfaction when you were winning. He shook the thoughts from his head. Maybe a cold shower could help him sort this out.

Bucky came down the stairs and sat on the couch just as he heard your hair dryer start up. He had gotten ready quickly, throwing on one of his henleys, his nicer jeans, and a pair of boots Sam had sent him this week when he had heard about the whole ‘borrowing clothes situation.’

He shot Steve a text, telling him that the two of you were going out to the bar with Curtis, to which he replied Have fun, Bucket😉.

Ugh, why did he have to tell Steve about that, it was never gonna go away now. Bucky had gotten a call from Steve each evening giving updates on the business, with Bucky doing the same on his end, keeping it short, only noting the highlights and trying to keep his emotions in check and out of the updates. His best friend knew better, though, even if Bucky wasn’t fully aware of the extent of his feelings yet.

Bucky got up and walked around, looking through the photos and knick knacks in your living room, before stopping by the mirror behind your front door and checking his appearance. This look wasn’t what he was used to. He was extremely dressed down compared to the designer suit he’d likely be sporting in one of his clubs if he were back in the city. He hadn’t even bothered to gel his hair because it seemed you didn’t care when he did, plus, he wanted to save that valuable product for a real occasion, no use in wasting it to go slum with a bunch of hillbillies. He looked to the coatrack next to the mirror to see a hat that matched his boots perfectly and plopped it on his head, swaying side to side to see how it looked.

Just then, you started to make your way down the stairs but stopped in your tracks seeing Bucky in that hat. His head snapped up to look at you.

“What? Does this hat make me look dumb?”

You smiled and shook your head.

“No, not at all” Bucky could see tears well up in your eyes, accompanied by sparkles of fondness and, sadness?

“That was my uncle’s hat. He taught me everything I know”

“Oh, I’m so sorry” Bucky went to take the hat off but you stopped him.

“No- it’s okay. It looks good on you. Go ahead and wear it out tonight.”

Bucky looked back at you with a somber nod as you continued back down the stairs, taking a deep breath to settle the emotions that had nearly breached the surface.

Even in this state, you looked gorgeous. Hair flouncing in the breeze that was created as you drifted down the steps, wearing makeup he hadn’t seen since the first time you two had met and a sundress that blew him away. You were gorgeous in all states because you were you. Bucky looked down, kicking his feet, to pull his magnetic glance from you. He’s really gotta switch up the power dynamic here, and if there was one place Bucky could feel at home after a week of embarrassing himself, it was a bar. He grabbed the keys and you followed with an eye roll, getting into the passenger seat of your own truck. He didn’t even know where he was going, but he looked at you with a sly grin. Like for the first time, he had the upper hand, and that would only come from being anywhere but on your farm.

Bucky was a good driver, despite his statements about some guy named ‘Gio’ and grumbles about Sam, who you had met once before. Besides that, the drive was filled with laughs reminiscing all the mishaps he went through that week, well, mostly you laughing, and Bucky doing his best to hold a smirk from showing too obviously, his eyes narrowed at you in contrast.

The two of you pulled into town as you pointed Bucky towards a decent-sized building which housed the bar, still nothing compared to what he was used to. The two of you hopped down from the truck and walked through the front door, which jingled, signaling your entrance.

Bucky was greeted by the smell of old wood and stale beer, the dim atmosphere lit with old neon beer signs and fluorescent lights which hung over the pool tables. You looked back at Bucky as you crossed the threshold where he held the door for you.

“Hey, all I’m saying is, I bet you wouldn’t last a week in my world the way I did in yours.”

You rolled your eyes as you sauntered up to the bar, taking a seat at the corner, Bucky next to you, and a few more empty seats to the other side of him that would hopefully stay that way until Curtis came. As the two of you had walked up to the bar, you had seen a bunch of girls groups whose heads turned, seeing the stranger that was Bucky make his way across the floor. Why couldn’t he be ugly? And why did you let him wear that hat? Bucky didn’t even notice. His eyes were only on you, besides his trained peripheral vision catching the eyes of men whose heads turned towards, doing the same.

“Oh please, Bucket, you hardly made it through this week. I’ve never seen anyone cut their finger on wheat before. How did you even do that? You were literally up on the tractor… wheat should not have been anywhere near your hands, yet you came to me with several paper cut-looking marks. And what do you even do all day? Your hands have calluses but a totally different kind. You can hardly toss a hay bale a story high into the barn loft. I’m sure it wouldn’t be that hard for me to just sit at a desk, bark orders, and sign paperwork all day.”

Bucky’s mouth gaped open as he feigned offense and put his hand on his chest.

You flashed a fleeting smile at him in satisfaction as you waved down the

bartender ordering two shots of whiskey and two beers.

“Now just because that’s all you’ve seen me do for work, doesn’t mean that’s all there is to it.”

“Oh really? Please, Bucket, then be my guest…indulge me.”

“Well, if I told you, I’d have to kill you, so take that as one of the common requisites.”

He smirked at you, obviously more comfortable in this bar environment before your phone dinged and it was a message from Curtis.

Hey Y/N. So sorry, something came up at the shop. Rain check?

Yeah, no problem. Hope all is good, see you tomorrow?

Yep! Ty

“Well, looks like Curty boi isn’t joining us, so it’s just you and me, Bucko”

At that moment, the bartender set down the drinks in front of you and you and Bucky took a shot together, ordering an appetizer sampler platter to go with your drinks.

As the two of you nursed your beers, you joked more about Bucky’s farm mishaps and talked about all the men you had turned down from Bucky’s organization to get him out here.

“I’ve gotta be honest, I don’t know how you turned down both Sam and Steve. I’m hardly immune to their charms some days”

You laughed and threw your head back. “It’s not easy. They’ve both got these puppy dog eyes they make when I say ‘no’ to them, but they seemed pretty satisfied with the fact I wanted to see you in person.”

“And why exactly was that? You never quite said”

“Well, at first, it started as a way to delay the deal, but then I realized, if I’m going to be making some major changes to somewhere I consider a sanctuary, I wanna make sure it’s with the right partner” you nudged him with your elbow playfully and Bucky gave you a small grin. “But honestly, if I’m going to do something these days, I wanna do it at the source. I hate hearing important news from third parties, I mean, you’ve seen how I do business. It’s all me at the end of the day. Sure, Curtis helps out, but otherwise, it’s better to deal with things on my own and a few trusted people” you finished that statement breathless from your heated ramble. This didn’t go unnoticed by Bucky at all. Where did that come from? At first, to him, you were just another bug to be squashed in order to get more control over his industry, but did he care now? Did he truly care about what was upsetting you? What caused that hurt you were obviously tampering down? Does this have to do with Jakey?

Bucky hadn’t realized he said that last part out loud until you responded.

“No! Well, maybe? Like, sort of?”

“Can I ask? Can I ask what happened there? Only if you want to share”

“Um… yeah, sure, I guess. You’ve embarrassed yourself enough this week so I think you’ve earned this a little bit.”

You took a deep breath and began. “Jake and I grew up together. We met in kindergarten in school and were instantly close. We were the only two gifted kids in class, so the teacher sent us to the side for extra lessons while the rest of the class learned with her. From that point on, we were inseparable. Two smart little twerps who took on the world together, but our lives were so different. In middle school, I started to take on more responsibility on the farm and he started getting into computers, but we’d still see each other. In high school we started officially dating, and I was so happy to be with someone who I felt like intellectually got me. I think it was the same way for him, too. He’d crack such nerdy jokes, and no one got them but me”

You smiled nostalgically at the memory. “When our senior year came along and my uncle wasn’t doing that well, I applied to more local schools, but he didn’t. We had always talked about going off to college and living together, but he wanted that life to be far away from here, and I had obligations. I got into the local college on a full ride for agriculture and civil engineering, and he decided he’d rather go to MIT for computer science. I asked if he’d be willing to stay since he got into college around here, too, but he said he wanted to be around people who were ‘more like-minded to him.’ As if we hadn’t been the only ones who had understood each other for over a decade.”

Bucky gave you a sullen look as your head fell and you looked down at your hands. He signaled to the bartender for a water and two more rounds of shots.

“I just, I just didn’t understand how he could act like that after so long. So I asked him when he was leaving so I could see him off. We were still friends, after all, but he left without a word. When I saw him again over Christmas break that winter, I felt like he had turned into some overweening, highfalutin, jerkwad. I didn’t really know him anymore, and I had enough to focus on already, so I just kinda stopped talking to him. As you could see today, his mom still comes around, but it’s not really the same. I don’t think she ever really truly saw the way he changed, she’s too caught up in having a son who lives in Silicon Valley now, but apparently he still asks for stuff from the farmers markets.” You shrugged and thanked the bartender for the shots, pounding all four before you excused yourself to the restroom, leaving Bucky to sit there shocked.

He had known where you went to college and how smart you are, but things like what happened with Jake don’t show up on paper. However he clocked you before, you were even stronger than that, because despite how you were hurt, you still wore your heart in your sleeve and showed compassion to everyone around.

You washed your face and looked in the mirror. Sure, that experience with Jake sucked, but it’s been years and you were over it now. Didn’t mean it was fun to relive it all. You decided to go into one of the stalls, the alcohol already kicking in and making you have to pee. You sat down and that’s when you saw it: blood. So that’s the reason for the waterworks all day today. That’s why you felt so tired and couldn’t help tearing up at the slightest things. Luckily the girl in the stall next to you had some products. You cleaned up and washed your hands, forcing a smile in the mirror until it became real, honestly relieved at having a reason for your out-of-character behavior. You headed back out to Bucky in a much more chipper mood and he looked up at you with a quirked brow. He figured you’d taken the time you needed. He was appreciative of you being so open with him, and wasn’t going to question the switch-up since he was just so happy to see you being yourself again after a long day.

“Up for a game of pool, cowboy?”

“Oh, you’re signing up to lose, Honeybee”

“Ok, ok, best four out of seven” Bucky whined as you giggled, whiskey shots catching up to you as you held another beer bottle in your hand. Bucky was hardly affected, he essentially rocked this much alcohol in his system by noon on a daily basis. Just then, his phone rang, and he motioned to show you it was Steve. You gave him a thumbs up and started to rack the balls to set up for the next game.

You watched Bucky walk out the door as you felt a presence looming behind you. You turned around and stood up, eyes tracing up a body dressed in brown hues until you reached a set of blue eyes shaded by a cowboy hat brim.

“Oh, howdy, can I help you?”

“I sure hope so. Can I get you a drink? Two whiskey sours” the stranger yelled over to the bar.

“Oh, uh, thanks.”

“My name’s Cole, Cole Turner. What’s a pretty girl like you doing here all alone?”

He was handsome, there was no denying that, but something seemed off. You plastered your best fake smile on your face. You didn’t need a confrontation tonight, not in your favorite dress. You didn’t want to taint the memory of it because of some rando. Wait. Was he a rando? Where have you heard the name ‘Turner’ before? Before you could continue your train of thought, a waiter came over with your drinks. They were very sweet compared to what you’d had all night, just like his demeanor, which seemed like a thin veil over the surface. You tried to channel your drink’s energy into your words to sweetly reply until you could properly remember who he was through your alcohol-fogged mind.

“Oh, I’m not here alone. I’m here with a friend”

“Hate to break it to you sweetheart, but I don’t see anyone around. You up for a game?”

Before you could even open your mouth to respond, he grabbed a pool cue and made a move to break. After that, he was keeping a little too close to you constantly. You did your best to stay kind, but must’ve been sending the wrong signals as he asked you “You wanna get out of here? I’ve got a hotel room down the road.”

In an attempt to change the subject you asked “Oh, so you’re not from around here? What are you doing in town?” Looking towards the door hoping Bucky would be done with his update any minute now.

“Ah, I used to live around here. My family owns a string of dairy farms. I’m here to try and convince these small-town farmers to give up the land.”

Your eyes went wide. Luckily you were facing away from him. He was that Cole Turner. The one whose family ran a packaged beverage empire and prided themselves on squashing the little guy. You were lucky he didn’t seem to recognize you yet, as the last remaining competitor in town. The one he had probably come in to squash. Just then, lost in thought, you felt a hand snake around your waist and you flinched.

“Relax, Honeybee, it’s just me” Bucky whispered in your ear. Your shoulders visibly relaxed as you turned around and threw your arms around his neck, holding on for dear life. You pulled away, but not enough for Bucky’s hand to leave your waist, and looked between the two men, grabbing Bucky’s hat and placing it on your head immediately.

“Uh, James, this is Cole. He’s visiting town.”

Bucky reached out his hand Cole shook it. Cole took a large step back after, respecting the hat on your head, and, was he intimidated by Bucky’s stature? Sensing your discomfort, Bucky spoke up. “Nice to meet you. Shame we’re heading out now.”

You grabbed Bucky’s hand, not looking back, and headed straight to the door as quickly as your numb, wobbly legs would take you. Once you were met by the cool, crisp night air, you sighed in relief and rested your forehead on Bucky’s shoulder.

“Thank you for helping me get out of there”

He shuddered at your proximity and the comfort you felt in this type of contact. It felt natural and he never wanted it to stop. With a soft smile and a glance at the top of the hat, he said, “No problem, Honeybee. Let’s get home.”

He helped you get up into the cab of the truck, sliding you across the bench seat before he got in and started it up.

“So what was the deal with the hat? And that guy?”

You yawned and stretched, settling in against Bucky’s shoulder.

“Uh, when a girl takes a guy’s hat and puts it on her head, it means she’s going home with him. And don’t worry, I didn’t mean it like that, I just wanted that guy to get off my back. We can talk more about that later.”

You wiggled to get more comfortable, your hand still in Bucky’s as he used the other to steer the truck down the old country roads. Your eyes fluttered shut as you fell asleep on him. His eyes flickered between you and the road in the headlights ahead. He luckily had a good sense of direction and was able to remember how to get home from your instructions earlier.

When he pulled into your gravel driveway, your were sound asleep, softly snoring, drool having dripped onto his Henley, but he didn’t mind at all. He lifted you out of the truck and carried you up the steps, taking off your boots before tucking you into bed for the night.

Next >

Bonus A/N: so where I’m from, “Turner’s” really is a beverage empire and they make really good products. I just figured I can’t make a farm AU without putting Cole in it, no matter how inaccurate to character.

Series taglist:

@scuzmunkie

@openup-yourmind

#bucky barnes #Bucky Barnes fluff #Bucky Barnes x reader #you catch more bees with honey series #chapter 3: honey trap #mob bucky x farmer reader #mob! bucky x farmer! reader #mafia! bucky x farmer! reader #mafia bucky x farmer reader #mob bucky x reader #mafia! bucky x reader #mafia bucky x reader #mafia bucky barnes #mafia bucky #farmer! reader #farmer reader #Curty boi #Jake Jensen #Steve rogers #crying at a bar #farmers market #mutual pining #bucky Barnes cowboy hat rule

[koiimii]

𝐁𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐭 | 𝐀𝐥𝐞𝐱 𝐓𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

“𝙄𝙣 𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙘𝙝 𝘼𝙡𝙚𝙭 𝙗𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙠𝙨 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙮 𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙧𝙪𝙡𝙚𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙫𝙞𝙨𝙞𝙩𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙡𝙖𝙨𝙩 𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙤𝙣 𝙝𝙚’𝙙 𝙚𝙭𝙥𝙚𝙘𝙩 𝙤𝙣 𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙚𝙧 𝙖𝙛𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙣𝙤𝙤𝙣…”

———

He couldn’t stop his feet.

They seemed to be moving a millisecond ahead of his every thought as his booted heels clicked down the cobble stone path towards your door.

What the hell was he thinking? What on earth are you thinking Al?

He must enjoy being hurt. He must enjoy being filled up and then discarded, but then again… he was no saint either.

He was no better than you, and maybe right now… it would be best to leave things as they were. To leaves things in the dark, collecting dust by remaining completely absent in each others lives.

The past few months were peaceful! For the best indeed…

The way you left things that night, Alex’s stuff tossed out on your front lawn, your neck bruised from where he had ripped off the locket he gifted you…

Things were better left untouched from then on, and the two of you not in contact. Alex was well aware of that yes, but oh…. How he missed you.

The very idea of you made his heart swell in a way that made he himself feel sick, insane.

He’d never forget the words you two exchanged in your kitchen… the wine spilled across your marble counters, your back pressed against the wall while he kept you steady and unable to escape his petty wrath.

He couldn’t help the tightening feeling in his chest as he now stood out front your bright red door.

The gates of hell perhaps…

He clenched his jaw, and he shifted his weight from foot to foot trying to make this sound as normal as he could in his head. It had been 4 months, yes. You both agreed to never speak again, yes… only you said it in a much harsher way.

But the minute he stepped foot inside his mate’s flat that night, bags in hand and with the shameful request to borrow the air mattress… he missed you.

Your wild, amber eyes blinking back at his boring brown ones. Your smooth, tanned curves molding against his own body like a puzzle. Your mouth, sweet and tinted red with the remains of strawberry lipgloss…

(Y/n).

You had tattooed your name across his mind so that was all he knows… across his tongue so that it was all he speaks.

He needed you, now.

He would come in peace, leave his pride and sarcasm at the door. He’d have his white flag raised high. He lifted a ringed hand to knock, stepping back and stuffing his hands in the pockets of his jeans.

It was silent at first, and he wondered just how crazy he’d be to use the key you kept under the welcome mat.

No need.

A few quite clicks, and finally… it opened.

The sight of you made his mouth fall agape, not to mention the undeniable tightening feeling in his jeans.

He hated you…

He hated the fact that that wasn’t the slightest bit true.

You stood there, clad in his oversized dress shirt. Sleeves rolled up, barely buttoned correctly and sliding off your bare shoulders. Your hair flew all over, but still managed to glow caramel against the setting sun… your lips had twisted into an unreadable twitching situation, corners beginning to curl up.

What also grabbed his attention was the smeared paint along your bare hands and arms… and your thighs, and shoulders, your chest… even your cheeks were smudged with soft greens and yellows.

You had been painting again.

You loved painting… he was glad to see you hadn’t changed so much. But then again, he could be rather arrogant to think you’d stop your lifestyle just because of him, especially since you made it a point to push him out of it.

Then he saw your face.

Those Amber eyes… filled with emotions that made Alex’s blood run cold, only because he couldn’t read them.

Had you hated him…? He couldn’t blame you.

“That my shirt…?”, suddenly, the note to avoid pettiness had left the window.

It was official when you cocked your hip and leaned against your doorframe, an unimpressed brow arched high..

“Looked better on me anyway…” you shrugged, sipping the tea from the mug clutched firmly in your hand.

“Miss me that much?”, he pulled his sunglasses off and titled his head.

“A bit ironic isn’t it?” You sighed, peaking over his shoulder as if bored with him already and hoping for someone else to arrive.

“Don’t see how..”, Alex shrugged, pushing past you and into your home without a second though.

What you said next, well he had it coming.

“Look who’s popping up on my front porch, and pushing themselves back in again.”

You had made a valid point, and he avoided turning around to face you again, moving through your house towards your studio instead.

You followed, arms crossed and eyes rolled hard. But deep down in the pit of your stomach, those butterflies became to swarm.

You missed this man undeniably. The shirt you wore was only a fraction of the many you had folded neatly in his drawer you still kept…

Not a night went by where you hadn’t cried yourself to sleep with the help of old love letter readings, where you hadn’t driven yourself mad with his name on your lips and your fingers buried between your legs.

You missed Alex dearly. Painfully…

Right now, seeing him felt like a dream, watching and following close behind him as he moved down the halls of your home and into your studio.

The brightness only added to the euphoric feeling in your chest. You watched as he smirked to himself… his eyes took in the various unfinished canvases stacked along the walls, and the shelves piled high with old paint bottles…

The portrait you made of him still hung high above all your other beautiful works.

“Thought you promised to burn that…”, he cleared his throat and tugged off his thin striped blazer.

“Never got around to it..”, you mumbled, moving over to plant yourself down on the old stool in front of your canvas in progress.

“Nice to see you’re still painting… you make quite the mess too.”, he nodded towards your paint covered skin.

You were both childishly dancing around the words that burned on your mouths, like hot gum. Alex nearly felt his skin burn alone at the sight of you. The high open windows let a light in that made you appear ethereal…

Messily decorated and smudged with every color of the rainbow, you were magnificent.

“What’re you doing here, Alex.”, you frowned and watched as his body blew around to face you, limp like a puppet on a string.

Perhaps your string.

“You know why, love. Why’d you let me in…?”, he stepped closer and your frown deepened.

He looked calm, too calm, like he knew how this would all play out and that alone made you bubble with agitation.

“…You know why.”

He swallowed, and you could’ve swore the tips of his ears began to redden, hidden by the fallen Sandy locks of his un-gelled hair.

He liked pressing your buttons, making you tic…

“You’re too cruel...” He spoke, and finally he stood close enough to grip the collar of his shirt you wore, rubbing the fabric between his trembling fingers.

“Don’t do that…”, you glared up at him from your sitting position. “That isn’t fair and you know that.”

You hated how nonchalant he could be. You felt your body begin to brim and you swallowed thickly. The sun from the windows began to bake you both and the tension was rising to a suffocating high.

He needed you, wanted you, craved you like a drug and you wanted to hear him say it.

You didn’t care how…

With tears in his eyes, sweat on his brow, on his knees, underneath you, panting and out of breath…

You wanted him weak, and broken… and at your mercy.

As Alex stared down at you now, he felt his heart was about to beat from his chest. He knew he had stepped into the lion’s den and he didn’t want to look back.

Just then you shot up from your sitting position, acting off sheer instinct when you crushed your lips against his own. He immediately returned it, gripping at your hips and waist with an urgency.

It was like a fire had been lit between the two of you, electrifying and full of something you had grown to know all to well.

Alex’s mouth worked with ravenous intent, and it irked you in the back of your mind to think he had become rather spoiled in your… toxic patterns.

Your lips lingered on each other’s for only a moment longer before you felt yourself being backed into what you quickly learned was your work bench. With one strong arm’s sweep, Alex sent all your paints and colors to the ground with a clattering crash.

He caught your mouth in another painfully delicious kiss before your protests could be heard, lifting you up with ease and setting you down in place.

You had grown drunk.

You had began to devour each other with a fever and soon, you found yourself growing undone. Alex slotted himself firmly between your thighs, his hands reluctantly leaving the smooth skin of your hips and waist to squeeze their plushy flesh in calloused, ringed hands.

You mewled into his mouth and soon, he pulled away, paying close attention to the clean, unmarked skin of your neck. He’d have to change that. Alex payed very close attention to detail indeed.

You rolled your hips against his own and you knew he felt it too, his gentle groans rippling between the two of you. Alex touched your body with the same possessiveness you had shamelessly missed, and now you could only return the favor…

If he’d let you. If he’d let your head stop spinning and hand you the controls.

You felt his fingers find your center, thumb pressing feebly against that swelling ball of nerves that had began to call his name, still protected by the thin layer of your lace underwear... You couldn’t help but gasp, back arching off the table, hips pressing into his palm in search of that friction…

You could feel his smile against your neck, pleased and appreciative… knowing all to well how nicely his fingers made you tick. You rolled your neck around, his lips still painting the flesh more vivid than your violet paints before finally, your cursed and pressed your hands to his chest.

You shoved him back with a new found force, panting and panicked, in a flushed daze.

Alex stumbled until ultimately tripping onto his back, elbows planted into the sheet covered ground as the fallen paints from before splashed up all around him in vibrant puddles. Various hues of red, yellow, violet, and gold touched his clothes, his bare arms and cheeks… splashes of color slapped his skin and hair in a way that could only make such a mess look like art.

Lust swam between his and your own stormy gaze. Hair disheveled, eyes dark, lips swollen and glossed with desire. You didn’t share a word then, none were needed.

You raked a slow hand through your hair and cursed, licking your lips and eyeing the space around you before your eyes found home again in his. Alex stared up at you, swallowing thickly, pink paint rolling down his cheeks only to blend with his natural flushed state.

“Your shirt…”, you breathed, fixing his dress-shirt on your shoulders. “Take it off.”

He quickly obeyed, arms flexing up as he pulled the suddenly obnoxious fabric over his shoulders to toss it somewhere unimportant.

“Pants… and everything else.”, you moved in sync with him this time.

The clatter off his belt was the only thing that could be heard as the two of you shuffled to rid yourselves of any restraints. As Alex finally tossed his jeans, boots and socks aside, he gulped.

He watched as the thin lace underwear you wore slid down your legs, dropping off your ankles to the ground below. He was embarrassingly hard, his arousal prominent in the glossed, flushed red tint of his length.

You slid off the counter and towards him before Alex was finally leaned back on his elbows, quiet and hungry with anticipation for you.

He only wanted to be devoured by you…

“This paint is cold…”, only to fill the silence he spoke, unsteady and nervous. The spilt paint had indeed began to coat his thighs and arms with every shift of his body.

You could only chuckle, you wished you had a camera.

You lowered yourself down slowly, movements careful and calculated. Finally you sat on his thighs straddling him close once he sat up to hug you tight.

“You’re not in charge, Alex… I am.”, you whispered against his mouth, already parted for you taste once more.

“You’ve annoyed me, today. And now I’m going to take it all out… on you.”

That stung, in a way that shot right down to his erection, instantly twitching in approval. Your eyes bore into his soul and stripped him down to nothing. Eye to eye with you alone made him feel as if he couldn’t last another moment.

Alex knew you wouldn’t care, you’d simply sit back to watch him finish, call him names. He secretly liked how cruel you could be like this… He was putty in your hands.

“So mean…”, he murmured, just as your lips met his own.

Your hands, now dipped and smeared with wet pigment ran down his his bare neck and chest until he was graffitied down with crimsons and blues. The purple shades on his neck were rather artistic too.

Back then you had been known to be friends with the pretty boys, when you and Alex found each other… he had fought to be your favorite. Now he he was all yours and best of all… you were his.

Too lost in your lips, he hadn’t realized when you lifted your hips, only to slide down onto him with a slowness that made his shiver. His limbs tightened briefly, gasping against your mouth as you two groaned out careful praises.

You tightened around him, and he squeezed his eyes shut, sinking into your velvety warmth in a daze. You began to roll your hips and he cursed your name, his jaw going slack as the pleasure shot through him in waves.

You were in pure ecstasy, your mouth falling open, eyes rolling back as you nestled your head into the crook of his neck. His shirt began to slide down your painted shoulders, and Alex took the opportunity to kiss the soft skin, biting gently as you rocked faster.

Your head was spinning, the pleasure and emotion sending you reeling into an oblivion. Your rasped cries began to madden and soon you hissed at the sting of Alex’s bite, pulling away enough to shove him down completely.

Alex laid flat on his back, his fair falling from his eyes as he stared up at you, gripping your hips to leave hand prints of magenta and black for later… Your movements quickened, roughened and soon the two of you were lost in each others cries.

You stared down at him, your hips keeping rythme as you watched him closely. Alex looked dazed, eyes half-lidded as his broken, hoarse groans were returned with breathless giggles and sweet praises.

You watched as he took your hands and guided them around his throat, eyes a-little wider now, pleading and desperate. Alex loved to be hurt… you quickly learned that about him.

You learned that he liked not always being in control, especially if it meant you’d ruin him like this. Angry, desperate, rough… he joked about how sick he must be to enjoy such things, but if that were the case you wish everyone were as sick as him.

You stared down at him, lips parted as you leaned down to kiss him slow. It was messy and frantic, a thin string of saliva stretching between the two of you as you pulled away, pressing him down into the ground by his throat when he chased your mouth for more.

For a moment you forgot yourself, in the pleasure, in the emotions, in him.

You tightened your grip around his throat, clenching yourself around him, watching as his cheeks and ears went up in rosy flames. How he groaned out your name in frantic, broken cries and his hips bucked into you, hitting your sweetest spot at a delicious angle.

You cooed, brushing some more hair from his glossy eyes. Sweat glazed over the both of your painted bodies, and you knew Alex was close when he tried to slow your hips to a gentler pace.

“Hands off, darling…~”, you purred, hands leaving his neck to scrape down his chest.

Alex shuttered, whining out in his deeper register, words incoherent now as you bounced your hips steadily. Sounds that were anything but innocent began to bounce off the walls and Alex felt his stomach tighten.

“St-stop, love. I’m coming. Darling, please- I-!”, his pleads were false, Alex knew it. He wanted to be driven mad.

Your hands found his throat again, squeezing hard just as he felt his body tense and release, his bucking upwards and finally locking down into the paint soiled hardwood.

He shook gently, stuttering around a stream of curses along with your name as he finally spilled over. He could hardly breath, his breath catching in his throat as he saw stars, your hands still wrapping around his throat.

Alex assumed the intensity had already reached its peak as you finally slowed your hips to a stop, letting him ride out his orgasm and returning his breath… until your hips began to move once more.

You mentally swooned at the way he stuttered into hushed pleas almost immediately, gripping your hips so hard he’d leave bruises for the following days to come.

You laughed aloud, dreamy and in love. Seeing him so ruined beneath you after how cocky he had been earlier.. it drove you mad.

“I’m not finished, Al…~”, you purred, kissing down his neck as he turned his head to the side, desperate to control himself.

His stomach tightened and released again and he nearly saw white, the over-stimulation so beautiful it hurt.

“M’- I- sweetheart, please-~”, over and over the helpless begs spilled from his lips, and you couldn’t help but comb your fingers though his purple streaked hair.

You felt that knot begin to tighten in your stomach and soon you, slowed down, clenching around him as your body jerked in place, the orgasm hitting you like a shockwave, and Alex as well.

You cried out, collapsing on top of him as he held you close. His dress shirt had fallen to pool around your elbows and waist now, your chest ok full display pressed against his own.

You let it wash over, your heart racing a mile a minute, and you could feel Alex’s too. You kissing his bare shoulders and cheeks, soothing the intensity as you both came down…

There was a moment where it had just been breathing. Erratic, then hesitant, then steady… the two of you coached each other through it with touch alone.

After another moment, you sat up again and slowly pulled yourself off of him, watching as Alex peered up at you, eyes hardly open.

“Are you alright…?”, you questioned softly, rubbing his chest, and adding your name in purple paint.

He only nodded, small yet firm , resting his hands on your thighs and smearing them yet again with partial hand prints.

“…Let’s talk, Alex.”

It was evident that there was much to be discussed, the wave of ecstasy only leaving you both with a feeling of… anxiety.

It was only after a shared shower with colorful mud mixed water running down your limbs, hushed giggles and gentle kisses on warm wet skin, that the two of you could then cuddle up and talk…

———

𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝.

A/N: This was…filthy. But I feel like it was fitting. Submissive Alex, rough sex on the floor, in an art studio, covered in paint… He can be so odd yet captivating with romance. I love him.

#alex turner #arctic monkeys #alex turner imagine #alex turner fanfic #alex turner headcanons #alex turner x reader #arctic monkeys x reader #writing #art history #bodypaint

[asliceofzosan]

pspsps Zeff meeting Ayari 👀👀👀

oH YOU REALLY DONE DID IT NOW

zeff knows how much sanji loves kids.

he first noticed it when he was roughly turning into a teenager. around the age of 13-14. it isn't often that families come to the baratie. but when they do, sanji actually volunteers to wait tables when on normal understaffed days, zeff would have to drag him out of the kitchen kicking and screaming. he didn't understand it until he decided to watch sanji and everything made sense.

if one is the child of a pirate or a marine, you're bound to be a little fussy (case and point: sanji). and his boy was a natural at calming down fussy babies. those chubby little rascals would immediately stop crying when sanji would pick them up and carry them on his hip, taking everybody's order like usual. the parents would look at him gratefully, even allowing him so far as to let him wait other tables with their baby in his arms.

during sanji's break, he would play with them. if they won't stop crying, he'd ask patty or carne to heat up some milk or mushy vegetables to feed the kid. and more often than not, sanji would sometimes be seen with a sound asleep baby as he barks out the orders to a bewildered kitchen.

zeff asked him once if he wanted a baby sibling. sanji just laughed until his sides hurt.

"you can barely raise me, you old coot." he said in response with a bright grin that reminded zeff how much he loved this kid. "i'm better off as an only child. trust me."

(he does. trust sanji, that is. but he will never forget how his laugh sounded pained. like an echo of a terrible memory. he'll come to realize why after a long while.)

as sanji grew up, his natural gravitation towards children never wavered. in fact, kids often flocked towards him at the baratie, following behind him like little ducklings in a row. sanji's smile was softer on those days, the sparkle in his eyes as prominent as when sanji talks about his beloved all blue. the kids would hang onto his every word.

he doesn't know how qualified he is at knowing good parenting from bad parenting. but he did raise sanji for most of his life. his little eggplant turned out pretty decent by his standards.

so of course, it's a no brainer for zeff that if sanji would one day have his own kid, he'd be the best dad in the world.

"head chef?" patty says as he enters zeff's office. "someone downstairs really wants to meet ya."

"if they want a discount they better fuckin' run." he gruffly replies without looking up from the newspaper. "customer is always right my ass—"

"sir?"

"–and you know what's real upsetting? the fact that they think they're all hot shit! i don't care who you are. you pay to eat here–"

"chef-"

"–would be nice if i didn't get some dumbass like that for once—"

"chef, it's sanji!"

zeff has fought sea beasts, marine fleets, and pirates with a worse death wish than him. he has faced starvation, dehydration, massive bloodloss without batting an eye.

but nothing. absolutely nothing makes his heart jump more than hearing that his son has come home to visit.

"well what the fuck are you doing standing there, patty?" he bellows, standing up and stalking towards the open door. "you better be preparing a feast for my boy."

"actually, he's already in the kitchen cooking one himself."

zeff laughs. that sounds exactly like his boy, alright.

it took zeff all of two seconds to notice that sanji isn't alone.

the swordsman is there, hanging off his shoulder like it's nobody's business (and he's pretty sure sanji mentioned at one point that he had gotten his head out of his ass and finally got together with him. lord was that an ordeal). and it looked normal for a few seconds until sanji turned around to face zeff.

there was a child there.

strapped to sanji's chest with some sort of blanket-like contraption was a baby. it couldn't be more than two years old. its shrieks of delight echoed in the kitchen as it drooled all over sanji's suit. its hair was green – the same shade as that of the swordsman glued to sanji's side. and it was tied up into little pigtails that bounced as it moved.

"zeff!" sanji greeted, that same bright sunny smile plastered on his face. "come meet your granddaughter!"

his... what?

then he looked closer at her and it all made sense.

the curly eyebrows.

but it also made no sense at all. because the longer zeff stared at his granddaughter, the more confused he felt because how in the love of the all blue did sanji get a child that looked exactly like him and his idiot swordsman?

he was so much in his head that he didn't notice sanji take the kid out of her baby sling and hold her out in front of him. he was brought back to reality when one small hand wrapped around the end of his mustache with a continuous giggle. zeff stared at her, his whole world stopped on its axis. he never saw sanji as a baby. he wonders if this is the closest he'll get to experiencing that for the first time...

then the baby pulled on his mustache with a high pitched shriek that could reach the heavens.

"jiji!" the little girl squealed, now holding onto zeff's mustache with two chubby baby hands. zeff stayed rooted to his spot, transfixed by the girl's mere existence. but also there's a stirring in his heart that occurs when she smiles at him. she looks exactly like sanji. though with a lot less teeth.

"would you look at that, old man." zoro laughed as he gently pried his daughter's (????) fingers off of zeff's mustache. "you get her fifth word. congratulations."

on a normal day, (but god what even classifies as normal anymore?) zeff would have probably kicked that swordsman's chest in and sent him flying into the next room. but there's something about the way sanji's smile softens as he watches zoro play with the baby. his eyes mist over and the only reason he probably isn't openly crying right now is because zeff is right there.

there are precious few instances where zeff's seen sanji genuinely happy.

now is one of them.

he coughs roughly to get their attention. all three of them look up, sanji's gaze particularly nervous. but zeff just shook his head, figuring he'll ask all the dumb questions later, and holds his hands out expectantly.

"you gonna let your father hold his grandbaby or or ya just gonna hog her the whole time you're here?"

the laugh that escapes sanji's mouth has both zeff and zoro staring fondly at him. then when sanji transfers his baby girl into zeff's arms, sanji's smile is freer and more open than zeff's seen it in years.

"zeff," sanji says, smoothing down ayari's hair down with one hand, his other hand resting on zeff's bicep. a strong grip. a grounding force. "meet ayari. our little blessing."

ayari coos up at zeff and grabs his mustache again. sanji bends down slightly to rain her little face with a million kisses. zeff just stares at this all with the barest hint of a smile on his face.

yeah. he always knew sanji was gonna be a good dad.

genuinely i am in agony i love this family 😭 do you have any idea how much i was crying while writing this??? is it possible to get baby fever from your own oc zosan baby???

#niki's fics: she has your eyes #one piece #sanji #roronoa zoro #zosan #red leg zeff #niki's asks #oc: roronoa ayari