#I hope everyone gets the reference about the liquid ice

[jonsasource]

it must be a very different text that they’re reading… a song of liquid ice by gerom r.r. monty maybe? idk…

[kheerkadam]

♡roshogolla♡

first post!

To start off my blog, I have decided to post a recipe of a dessert that reminds many Bengalis of home: roshogolla. Roshogolla is a very simple and delicious dessert that everyone loves. It is made up of chana, or milk solids, and is rolled into mini balls that are soaked in an aromatic sugar syrup. I love using elachi (cardamom in Bengali) as it is my favorite spice for Bengali desserts.

Roshogolla is made up of two components; rosh means syrup and golla refers to its round shape. This sweet was one of the earliest desserts made in Kolkata, India which is where my parents are from. It may sound difficult, however, roshogolla is a fool-proof recipe that anyone is capable of making :)

I first made roshogolla at home during the pandemic in 2020. At the time, I had a recipe notebook where I would write down my recipes. I have not invented any of these desserts, but I have put my own twist on them in the hope of making them healthier.

Since many Bengali desserts use chana, I wrote the instructions on how to make the chana dough on other pages.

As the recipe states, chana is created by adding an acid such as lemon juice/vinegar to boiling milk to separate the solids from the liquids. This part of making roshogolla is also a science lesson, which was very fun and interesting to see. After the chana is completely strained, it will be separated and chunky. However, if you knead this dough for about 10 minutes, it will come together and turn into a smooth dough. After I kneaded the dough, I rolled it into multiple small balls using the palms of my hands. You can make these into whatever size you want, but I decided to make them smaller to reduce the portion size.

I even ate some of the dough when my mom was preoccupied with something else.

Fun fact: you can actually make homemade cream cheese with this method. If you add the chana to a blender and add some of the whey (the remaining liquid from the milk), you can make a delicious cream cheese to spread on your bagels.

Now that the roshogolla balls are complete, you can begin making your sugar syrup. The ratio of sugar to water (in cups) is 1:3. This syrup is supposed to be thin so the roshogollas can soak up the liquid. I actually added even less than a cup of sugar to make it healthier. After you let the sugar and water simmer, you can add some whole cardamoms and saffron strands to the syrup to bring in some traditional flavors and add a natural yellow color to the dessert. If you don't have cardamom, you can omit it, however, I would definitely recommend it if you can get your hands on it. Saffron is a spice derived from a rare type of flower: Crocus sativus. Saffron has tremendous health benefits such as its suppliance of antioxidants and release of a natural yellow food coloring. However, saffron is also known to be incredibly expensive, so a great substitute for this would be safflower. Safflower also comes from a plant and has a similar ability to color food. Its aroma is slightly mellower than the original saffron, however, it is a much cheaper option that adapts to the budgets people may have.

After a few minutes, you can add in the chana balls.

Let it simmer for five minutes, then turn off the gas, close the lid, and wait for 20 minutes. Make sure your lid has a small hole in it so the steam is not trapped along the edge of the lid.

Finally, you can remove the lid and serve the roshogollas with some syrup hot/cold. Add some crushed pistachios if you wish. Something I find interesting about roshogolla is that it is enjoyable when it is hot because it melts in your mouth and allows you to taste the spice of cardamom. Whereas, when you leave it to chill in the fridge/freezer, the roshogolla becomes ice-cold, which feels refreshing and spongy (in a good way I promise!). The versatility of this dish is incredible and the sweetness can overcome any sadness in an instant.

I had lots of fun making this Bengali dessert and hope to post many more on this blog. Now that you're influenced, please make this mouthwatering dessert and give it a try. :)

[forever-rogue]

could you do a blurb in fatws where bucky and the reader have feelings for each other and zemo is trying to flirt with the reader?

Warnings: use of pet name [bunny], mention of toys, references to sex, possessive!Bucky, language, minors dni

A/N: Yuh, I would love to have Bucky and Zemo fight over me so here we are 😇

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You looked at Bucky’s back, biting your lip as you contemplated your next actions. You know what Zemo was trying to do; his half-masked attempts at flirting were not exactly subtle. And for some reason...you weren’t totally abhorred by the thought of Helmut Zemo making a move on you. He was handsome, that was easy to see, and it had been a while since you’ve had...anyone. Quite frankly your hand and toys weren’t cutting it anymore.

It wasn’t like you could wait for Bucky for forever. At some point you’d have to accept that either he didn’t feel the same way or he just wasn’t ever going to make a move. Over the past year your little back and forth with him continued to grow but it never amounted to anything besides a lingering touch here and there or longing looks thrown in the other’s direction when you thought they weren’t looking, and very flirtatious banter. But still...you could make a move on your own, but you were too stubborn - just like him.

Maybe Zemo wasn’t a bad choice after all. He’d been more friendly lately, making his desire for you known to everyone. In some ways it was a little bold and exhilarating; to have someone be this brazen in their desire for you. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t warmed up to the possibility of having him.

“Tell me,” you accepted the drink he slid across the island at you, leaning over on your elbows so he could see down the front of your loose shirt. It wasn’t a subtle move, but at this point it didn’t matter, “when’s the last time you’ve been with anyone, Baron?”

Zemo almost looked startled by your question - almost. He kept his cool and took a long drag of his drink, finishing it off and setting it back down on the cool granite. The corners of his lips pulled into a wolfish smile as he studied you for a moment. You put on your best poker face as you tried not to let any of the cracks show, “it has been a while. Why little bunny? What’s got you so interested?”

“You look like you know how to touch a woman,” you threw back the rest of your drink, hoping it would work like liquid courage. Despite not being particularly loud, you could sense that Bucky heard you across the apartment, seeing his head turn slightly from the corner of your eye. This was a dangerous game indeed, and yet you were thrilled with it, “like you know just how to give me what I need.”

“Have you ever been with a man?” he asked suddenly as a tingle spread throughout your body. He took a step closer, slowly making his way over to you, “or have they all been boys?”

“Umm,” you were speechless as he leaned over and put his hand on your face, slowly stroking his thumb over your cheek. Your lips parted as you looked at him like a deer in headlights. He was close enough to where you could smell his aftershave and count every little freckle. He really was handsome, “n-no.”

“Are you scared little bunny?” he leaned in so his lips were just shy of yours and part of you was screaming to close the gap and kiss him, “you weren’t so shy before. Or are you afraid that you can’t handle it?”

“I-I can handle it,” you gasped as he ghosted his fingers along your jaw and down the column of your throat before lightly putting his whole hand around your throat. He was squeezing ever so slightly, but it was just enough to dizzy you and leave you wanting more, “please.”

While the two of you stared at each other, it was like the world had stopped existing and Bucky wasn’t in the adjacent room. He’d overheard every word, seen every little moment, attempting to compose himself, but it was getting harder with each passing second. You were his, not Zemo��s.

“You have such a smart little mouth,” he said slowly as he licked his lips, “I wonder if you’re able to put it to good use for something other than talking back. Are you going to let me-”

“Get your hands off of her,” the voice was cold as ice as the two of froze and slowly turned to find Bucky standing there, nothing but anger in his eyes. You swallowed the lump in your throat as Zemo removed his hand from your throat and crossed his arms over his chest, “she’s mine.”

“I wasn’t aware she belonged to anyone,” the two men stared at each other intently as you weren’t sure what to do, “I think the little bunny is free to do whatever she wants. Tell James what you want.”

“I…” you stared at the floor for a moment, studying your feet while you felt the two men studying you intently, “I...dunno.”

“Come on little bunny.”

“Umm…” you slowly looked up and then found your eyes wandering over to Bucky. He met yours with a steely gaze that caused a shiver to run down your spine and a tingling in your lower belly, “James.”

Zemo tuttled lightly, a small sound of disappointment as he looked between the two of you. He took a step back and nodded; the Baron was a lot of things, but he wasn’t about to impose or force himself on anyone. As soon as his name had left your lips, you seemed surprised that you’d said anything, a warm flush creeping into your neck and cheeks.

“And so she has made her choice,” Zemo said as he poured himself another drink, unfazed by the whole situation, “if you should ever choose to come to a different conclusion little bunny, do let me know.”

Without another word, he nodded at the two of you before clutching his drink and walking out of the kitchen, humming quietly under his breath. It was almost dead silent as he retreated and closed the door to his bedroom, leaving the two of you to stare silently at each other. Bucky’s gaze was unwavering and intense, and you felt as though you were slowly coming undone in front of him. When the silent became too great, you cleared your throat, ready to scramble away to your own quarters.

“Just where do you think you’re going?” Bucky reached out and grabbed your arm in gentle, but firm grip, effectively stopping you in your tracks. You swallowed thickly as you turned to look back at him with nervous eyes. When you didn’t say anything, he raised an eyebrow, “I asked you a question: where do you think you’re going?”

“I…” you trailed off as you watched him look at you with hungry, dark eyes, pupils completely blown with lust, “just leaving.”

“I’m not done with you yet,” he practically growled as you left all of that go directly to your already aching cunt, “I meant what I said - you’re mine.”

“I thought you didn’t feel the same,” you were looking at much with such surprised innocence that it was a miracle Bucky didn’t take you then and there, “you never-”

“Guess I jus’ needed that asshole to remind me of how much you mean to me,” he released his grasp on your arm and gently reached up to touch your face. After all this time - you’d never been reading the signs incorrectly at all, “just the idea of him touching you disgusts me.”

“What are you going to do about it then, Buck?” you gripped his wrist and pulled his hand away, a challenging look on your face as you tilted your head to the side, “so far you’ve been all talk.”

Maybe the alcohol was suddenly working as a confidence boost. Normally you would have shied away or let him take full control but today you were feeling...confident. The fact that two grown men had all but fought over you didn’t hurt either.

“You want this?” he licked his lips as his eyes instinctively fell to yours. Of course you wanted this; you’d practically been throwing yourself at him for the last year. You nodded slightly and his smile just grew, stretching from ear to ear, “you better be real sure sweetheart. I won’t be gentle and I won’t be nice. You are mine in every way and you will do what I say. Understood?”

Your jaw was clutched in his hand and his grip was practically bruising. Your whole body was burning with lust and desire, wanting him to use you and mark you up as his, “I’m yours, Bucky. Use me as you please.”

“I’m going to like this,” this was a side you’d never seen before of him and you suddenly wondered why you’d never tapped into it before. Despite his words, you knew he would never truly hurt you, “you’re such a good little bunny, aren’t you?”

“Mhmm,” you sighed, head already empty except for thoughts of him and what you wanted him to do to you, “I’ll be good.”

“Then on your knees,” he insisted as you readily complied, letting your knees hit the cool tile of the floor, “and do as I say.”

“Yes.”

“Good girl.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

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[whaleofatjme1920]

could you please do a scenario or fic on brian totally crushing on a shy runt of their group? like i feel like he’s be a little bit of an ass just teasing them whenever they’re all just laying around the temp house to get a reaction out of the poor girl possibly ending in nsfw. whichever length you vibe more with and is easier~ dont push yourself <3

Water Bottles and Intolerable Heat

[Hoodie/Brian Thomas X GN!Reader]

[Warnings: like, none?]

[AN: no NSFW, but it's plenty flirty. 988 words to be exact.]

Brian isn’t sure why he likes you, only that he does. He sees you and his heart begins to flutter alongside the butterflies in his stomach. You make him happy, and he’s not quite sure why.

It goes against everything he’s ever believed as a proxy - to not date those in his ranks or his fold. You’re technically a runt, replacing Kate who had been considered a middle child up until this point, and that’s not enough to keep him away. In fact, you draw him in ever stronger.

Perhaps it’s your shy nature. You fold at the smallest of grins. Can’t even make eye contact with him for more than a few minutes before you’re a heated mess, giggling and smiling like a school kid.

He likes toying with you when those moments happen. He knows it’ll make heat rise to your cheeks.

“Hold the gun like this,” he says, stepping beside you.

You glance upwards for a moment and immediately feel engulfed in his tall form. “Like this?” You readjust your hands.

Brian chuckles and shakes his head, honeyed laughter bubbling up from his throat. “No, like this,” he hums, his gloved hands reaching upwards to cup yours.

You almost drop the pistol you’re working with when he touches you, your eyes averting strongly when he smiles down at you. His touch is so warm and gentle as he repositions your hands, molding it so it feels like you’re a natural. “Oh, thank you,” you say as he finally removes his hands.

“Shoot.”

You pull the trigger.

Bull’s eye!

Brian teases you whenever he gets the chance. For instance, it’s hot as all hell in the temp hour, midsummer, and the air conditioning is out. Tim refuses to get it fixed today so all the windows are open and everyone is essentially hoping for the best with the passing breeze.

“Gods this is miserable,” Kate mumbles as she fans herself with a magazine.

“D-Ditto,” Toby mutters back, sprawled out on the couch like a cat, his legs resting on Kate’s lap.

“We’ll get it fixed tomorrow,” Tim says with a small groan as he rummages through the fridge for something cold before finally settling on some iced water. Anyone want a bottle-”

A chorus of ‘yes’ reverberated throughout the room, making Tim chuckle under his breath.

“Toby,” he calls out before tossing a bottle to Toby’s waiting hand. “This one’s for Kate,” he continues, hurling over another bottle to Toby’s once again waiting hand.

Toby palms the icy bottle like liquid gold before handing it over to Kate, the both of them relaxing in the cool touch from the plastic bottles.

“Hood?”

“I’ll come get it,” Brian says as he stretches from his seat, his midriff peeking out from his shirt. He passes by you, his fingers lightly tracing the arm of your chair. “You want me to get you one too?” He asks with a small purr.

Heat rises to your cheeks at an instant. “That would be nice, thank you,” you manage to answer.

Toby glances over at you from where he lays on the couch before looking at Kate, who flashes him a knowing grin.

Brian smiles and then heads over to the fridge where he’s tossed two bottled waters from Tim. “And you’re sure we can’t call some guy out this evening?” He inquires as he begins his way back to you.

“The state of this house is atrocious, we clean first, then call some guy up,” Tim deadpans as he closes the fridge before twisting off the cap of his water bottle. He takes a long, languid sip before taking a seat in the living room.

Brian rolls his eyes with a soft giggle before finding himself at your side. “For you, darlin’,” he hums.

You take the bottle as your heart races in your chest. Did he really call you that? “Thank you,” you squeak as you finally take the bottle.

“No problem,” Brian grins. He looks over his shoulder to see Tim’s taken his original spot, a knowing smirk on his lips. Whatever. “Gonna join you over here,” he notes as he briefly heads back to the kitchen, picking one of the chairs up like it weighs nothing and setting it down beside you.

“How nice of you to join her,” Kate teasingly says, her eyes sparkling for a moment with mischief.

“Tim took my spot,” Brian replies as he sits down, lightly slouching in the chair and twisting off the cap of his water bottle.

“Y-You also j-j-just like b-being near t-them,” Toby quips, briefly moving his head up to look over at the two of you.

Brian’s lips pull upwards at the corners as his teammates add in their commentary as he rests his elbows on the arm of your chair. ‘Can you believe them? How right they are?’ He starts in what’s lovingly referred to as ‘headtalk’.

Your eyes glance over. ‘Hm?’

‘That I want to be next to you,’ he says dreamily, head tilting towards you. His hazel eyes longingly look over at you, a smirk shining on his lips. ‘You’re just so irresistible,’ he continues, watching as you grow warmer and warmer. ‘Probably raised the temperature-’

“Oh my gods, you’re gonna kill them,” Tim loudly laughs, throwing a pillow over at Brian who deflects it.

“Yeah, ease up, Casanova,” Kate giggles.

Toby points over at Kate and Tim, nonverbally saying that he agrees with them.

Brian fully looks at you. You look like you’re walking in a dream, head floating and body about to levitate. “Gonna kill them for saying the truth?” He knowingly directs towards you.

You puff your cheeks out for a moment, quickly unscrewing the cap of your water bottle, breaking its seal and gulping the cold liquid down. “Had to cool down because you’re too hot,” you mumble bashfully under your breath.

Brian’s eyes widen, a blush blooming on his cheeks.

[youarejesting]

Hope In The Sheets.8

[Masterlist]

Beta: N/A Pairing: Hoseok x Reader Genre: Friendship, Comedy, Soft boy, Fluff, SMUT, Friends2Lovers, Words: 2.9k

Summary: You held many titles: his neighbor, colleague, wing-man… well, more likely a wing-woman, yet most importantly, you were his best friend. You had been friends since you were born. Between the two of you, you were younger; barely, but he never let you forget it. He always seemed to ruffle your hair and tease you, which could get rather annoying but he made up for it by treating you to things.

What if a drunken one night stand between you and your best friend Hoseok leads to more complicated situations? Your reckless twenties are cut short as you find yourself suddenly responsible for something a little more.

Warning: Braxton hicks, Reader thinks she is being followed (but is mistaken), and a love making scene very short and sweet.

[First] [Previous] [Masterlist] [Next]

With your final month of pregnancy approaching you were finally ready to take your maternity leave. Deciding to continue working for as long as you could to save some money. The boss was getting super weird but you were holding your tongue and making up excuses to leave his presence.

Your last day was a little extravagant with cake and a card signed by your colleagues. The boss gave you a bouquet of flowers, which you graciously accepted as it was your last day. Everyone took photos and your boss awkwardly pulled you close, his hand resting on your belly.

Irritation growing, you wanted nothing more than to push his hand away and leave. The scent of his cologne made you feel a little sick and you were unbelievably sweaty. Excusing yourself to the safety of the women's bathroom you splashed your neck with some cool water. 

Calling Jimin you whispered, “I need you to come pick me up, the boss is being weird again.”

“I am near by, give me a few minutes I will get you,” Jimin’s sweet voice rang like tiny chimes through the phone.

You waited another couple of minutes and heard your name called from the hall, “Y/n?, are you okay in there?” It was your creepy boss.

“Sorry, I am just having a hot flash so I am splashing water on my neck,” You laughed, trying to appear casual and not cause him any reason to suspect you are in distress as you would bet he would barge in otherwise, “I will be out soon.”

Your phone chimed.

[Jimin: We are in the elevator grab your things for a quick escape.]

Curious as to who he was referring to as ‘we’ but not questioning it, he was right you should get ready to leave as quickly as possible. Heading out to the gathering of your colleagues, you smiled fanning yourself.

“Here is some ice water,” One of the women smiled, “I remember when I was pregnant it was unbearably hot.”

“Thanks,” You took a drink and sighed happily at the cool liquid, standing in front of your bag, the flowers and card. The elevator doors opened to reveal a well dressed Jimin and a rather handsome man you recognized from the bar. Jungkook’s best friend, Taehyung was it? You smiled at the two as they smiled greeting everyone. “Hello, we are Y/n’s friends, I'm Jimin and this is Taehyung. We have come to pick her up.” Jimin looked around the room and his eyes lit up, “wow you are all so nice a party and everything.” 

Jimin charmed the room easily and Taehyung wasn’t doing too badly either as he took the flowers and your bag. “Are you ready to leave?”

“Ah yes, I wouldn’t mind going home for a rest,” allowing the two young men to lead you towards the elevator, “Goodbye, I will hopefully see you when I am back from leave.”

They all waved and wished you good luck, and you didn’t miss the disappointed look on your boss' face. Your shoulders slumped as you leaned against the wall of the elevator, “I am so tired.”

“We will get you home soon,” Jimin smiled, rubbing your back and pulling you into a hug.

“Should we reschedule?” Taehyung said, “Or, I can um pay again, if you don’t mind waiting for a few weeks, I will save up enough money for another date.”

Jimin was at a loss for words. You knew he didn’t know what to say and you smiled, “Hey no, I will be home soon, just drop me off and go back to Jimin’s, he has a cinema room and you can order in and watch movies.”

“Yeah, we can do that.” Jimin smiled, reassuringly at Taehyung,

“Half a movie, I can only afford half a movie,” He mumbled downtrodden. Jimin wet his lips feeling awkward, he hadn’t dated anyone who wasn’t loaded with cash in a long time. 

“Jimin has a rule that if he can’t make a date the next one is half price,” you took the art of improv to a whole new level, “he couldn’t make your date and it had to be rescheduled, right? So, this one is half price so you can get twice the amount of time.”

“Yeah, she is right so we can hang out a little longer.” Jimin bit his lip looking at the young man and seeing the small smile pull up on his lips. “So let’s drop the tiny mama off and go watch a movie.”

“Ok,” Taehyung smiled, you watched the two, nervous like a highschool crush developing between two students. The two graciously dropped them off and Jimin walked you to the door.

“You are smitten!” You grinned, teasing him lightly watching his blush grow. Your eyes catching Taehyung fixing his hair in the passenger seat drop down mirror. “You have never been nervous in your life, and he is so sweet.”

“I have been with rich men here and there looking for a date or a night, but I have never had someone scraping together their money to spend just a little time with me, making handmade gifts because that's all they can do.” Jimin was clutching his heart, and you finally found the key for the front door. “When he tells me I am pretty, or that he loves my voice, it’s different. I know those CEO’s had wives, but when he says it, I feel special like I am the only one in the world he says it too.”

“So what’s the problem?” You asked, letting Jimin walk you inside with all your items. “You have a lot of savings and investment properties, you could live off that money very easily.”

“How can I see him when he thinks he has to pay me all the time?” Jimin mumbled, walking back to the front door. “I don’t want him to go bankrupt because he thinks he can’t afford my rates”

“I heard at the bar that he like photography. Tell him you want a photoshoot but you don’t know a good photographer who you feel comfortable with.” You hugged and an idea struck. “Say you can’t decide on a concept and offer him a few different ones you want to try. He has been asked to submit his work into an exhibition. I think the theme was nightlife.”

“Nightlife.”

“It’s up for interpretation, but who has a more busy nightlife than you, and I am not talking about going out on the town. A sensual at home photoshoot of you in a sheet or a naked silhouette overlooking the night city.”

“Oh that could be fun, I could be part of an exhibition” he giggled, “I will ask him.”

Jimin hugged you again for safe measure and ran off to his van and climbed inside.

You waved shutting the door and heading to the fridge hoping some cold yoghurt would soothe your overheated form, whilst also feeding your almost insatiable hunger.

Opening the fridge, you saw the last of your yoghurt at the back, bending slightly you felt a twinge in your back and as you straightened up, Yoghurt in your hand as you were overcome with a tightness in your stomach. Was this a contraction?

You were two weeks out from your due date so it wasn’t unusual for people to have their babies early. You pulled out your phone calling for an ambulance and trying to breathe calmly.

[Y/n: I think I am in labor, and you’re the only one who is free today.] [DJSuga: Like really or that time you ate too much rice too quickly and got indigestion?] [Y/n: I just called the ambulance.] [DJSuga: I will meet you at the hospital let me know what ward you are in when you know.]

“Hello, I am looking for Miss Y/n.” Yoongi’s voice carried across the hall from the nurses desk to your room. “I would describe her as pregnant but it wouldn’t help.”

“Wow, you are very descriptive. You really have no words to describe me Yoongi? I am offended.” You pouted walking out into the hall, “Let’s go home.”

“What I thought you were popping out a baby today?” he said confused, “If you say it was constipation or something stupid I will hit you upside the head.”

“Well, it wasn’t that.” You blushed, “It was braxton hicks?”

“Who?” he blanked, utterly confused, “What are you talking about?”

“It means fake labor, like a test run.”

“Can you stop with the test runs, I don’t think my body can take it anymore?” Yoongi held his back waddling down the hallway making you giggle. “Come on, I saw a restaurant for lamb skewers and I have been craving it since.”

“You are acting more like a pregnant woman than I am.”

Walking out the front of the hospital you were bombarded by Jin, Jungkook, Namjoon, and a disheveled Jimin with Taehyung. You didn’t realize how your eyes looked for Hoseok, until you didn’t find him. The crushing feeling in your chest made you frown slightly.

“False alarm.” Yoongi muttered, “Apparently Barbie Hacks or something, we are getting lamb skewers. Come on, I hear Jin is paying.”

Hoseok arrived at the Bar and saw that no one was around, the place was locked up with a sign announcing that it was closed for the night. It was strange Jin didn’t ever believe in taking days off, even when he was sick he would be in his office resting.

He called Jin’s phone and heard laughter, “I will be back” Jin's voice called. Hoseok could hear Namjoon, Jimin and Yoongi talking about something adamantly. Had they planned something without him.

“Hey Hoseok, what do you need?”

“Your bar is closed?” Hoseok mumbled, “I was wondering what you are all doing?”

“Y/n went to the hospital because she was getting contractions but they turned out to be Braxton hicks, so we are having lamb skewers on Yoongi’s request.”

“Why did no one tell me?” Hoseok felt a little sick that his friends were hanging out without him and there was a strange pull in his chest knowing that he wasn’t there at the hospital. 

“I didn’t think we had to, seeing as you are not the father of any children.” Jin repeated his words back to him, “We aren’t picking sides but you made it clear you didn’t want to be a part of the child's life. So we didn’t want to force you to be there.”

“I never said that I didn’t want to be a part!” Hoseok shouted down the phone, “Urgh, this is fucked.”

With a sigh Jin grew deadly serious, “she was scared out of her mind today, she thought she was going to have to give birth alone, you have to talk to her.”

“I said some stupid shit, Jin. I don’t know how to fix this.” Hoseok pulled at his hair and started heading to your house, hoping that perhaps the two of you could talk this out before he ended up losing you.

He had so much that he wanted to say and get mad about, he wasn’t ready to forgive you but he wasn’t ready to let you go either.

You were dropped off at Hoseok’s apartment, the one you had lived in together before everything went wrong. Touching your rounded tummy you knew that this child wasn’t a mistake and apologized out loud for even implying anything of the sorts. Taking the stairs to the second floor you arrived at his door.

Knock knock.

“Hoseok are you home?” You called, taking the key from your keychain you peaked inside to see the lights were off. You sat for a moment but he didn’t come home and it was getting a little dark. 

Heading out you locked up and walked along the road. You put a headphone in and pretended to be in a conversation. Speeding up slightly as you passed the men sitting on the steps of one of the stores that had closed up for the night. The men were laughing about something and you scurried along. 

Sighing in relief when you went to cross the street, looking both ways you caught sight of figures following you. Were the men following you? What did they want? Thoughts were circling in your head as the adrenaline started to kick in. Dialing hoseok you crossed the road.

“Hello, Y/n?” Hoseok said “I wanted to-”

“Hoseok, there are men following me” you whispered.

“Where are you?” He asked, sounding concerned, which gave you a flash of hope that he would protect you like he always did.

“I am on our street, I am heading to Yuta, I need to go somewhere public.” You replied walking briskly.

“Keep walking, I'm on my way.” You heard the sound of an engine and you knew everything would be okay. Hoseok wouldn’t let you get hurt.

“Don’t hang up, they are still following.” Picking up your speed you noticed they had started to walk a little more briskly. “I sped up and they did too, Hobi, I am really scared.”

“Don’t slow down, you got this little darling, I will be there soon.” Hoseok said with desperation in his voice. “I won’t leave you on your own anymore. I should have been there today. I should be with you now!”

A hand grabbed your shoulder and you screamed phone clattering onto the ground, “I am sorry miss, we called out but your headphones were in, you dropped your wallet.”

“Oh! Thank you so much, I am so sorry.”

“It’s okay, do you need help, can we escort you somewhere?” The other man asked. “There has been some break-ins recently so we have taken to watching the neighborhood.”

They walked you back towards Hoseok's and you sat with them as you spoke about what happened with Hoseok. Talking about how you stuffed up and lied to him. “You mean the really happy guy with the reddish hair? You two used to walk this street all the time. I knew you too liked each other,” they grinned

“So is it a little girl or boy?” One of the guys gestured to your belly. “Have you thought of any names?”

“A little girl and I have been thinking of some. Sun-Hee it just reminds me so much of her dad,” you hummed, a little nervous to hear their feedback, “does it sound silly?”

“It sounds beautiful.”

Looking up there was Hoseok panting and looking relieved to see you okay. Standing, you walked over to your longest friend, hoping he didn’t scold you. “Hoseok, I am sorry.”

He pulled you into a hug and buried his face in your neck, “I don’t care. I don’t care that you lied and kept this from me. I don’t care about any of that, let me be here for you. I will be by your side.”

You were crying, he took your face in his hands brushing your tears away with the pads of his thumbs. “Alright love birds, Kiss each other.”

Your cheeks were bright red, ready to laugh and tell the men it wasn’t like that when Hoseok pulled you forward. Pressing his lips to your's, he kissed you fiercely, his hands holding your waist and cradling your head. He tried to pull you closer when your belly bumped against him. He looked down and rubbed your belly gently, “I am sorry I wasn’t there but I am here now, and I am not leaving.”

“Let’s go home, Hobi.” You whispered, he thanked the men for taking care of you and led you to his van. He drove back to your house and walked you inside, shutting the door and taking off his shoes. The two of you sat on the couch.

“I guess you have a lot to talk about.” Hoseok said nervous and you swung your leg over his lap and kissed him. It was difficult to maneuver with your big belly, but you were too busy enjoying the feeling of his soft lips against yours.

“I want to remember this time,” you breathed against him. “Please let’s just pretend that one didn’t happen and try again.”

Hoseok laughed and lifted you carefully and carried you to the bedroom.

Hoseok was gentle and passionate; he teased you with his fingers and lavished you with his tongue. You had never had anything like this. Usually you were chasing a high with some guy you never had plans to call again, and that was on the rare occasion you were looking for sex. This made you feel overwhelmingly good, your heart was pounding. Every thrust brought with it a spark of energy. You clung to Hoseok as he lost himself in the sensations. 

He would open his eyes in moments of clarity and kiss you telling you how much he loved you. It wasn’t like jumping off the edge into pleasure; this was like waves that started small and built into a choppy tide never crashing upon you, just rocking you with pleasure. After the crescendo moment the waves began to ease back until it was the gentle waters lapping at the sand.

“Hobi,” you panted as he laid your head on his chest. He hummed encouraging you to continue. You took his hand and placed it onto your belly, “you remember two minutes ago when we had sex, well I think I fell pregnant.”

He laughed, throwing his head back into the pillow and leaned down kissing your belly, “I think you might be right!”

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[writingsbychlo]

tea parties | dad!mitch rapp

word count; 14,990

summary; emma rapp loves her dad, and she admires the badass CIA agent that he’s trying to suppress his feelings for, so she does a little meddling.

notes; this is a dad mitch fic, featuring the little girl I made up so long ago, and she is a little miss emma rapp. I adore her, she’s fantastic, and you’re going to love her too.

warnings; reference to injury, reference to death, reference to PTSD.

Mitch’s feet were taking slow and steady steps along the corridor, as a pair of irrationally matched footsteps skipped, walked and jumped along beside him, a small hand wrapped tightly around his own as the nerves in his stomach went haywire over the briefing he had up ahead of him, and the hope that it was nothing too dangerous. He knew he never got called in to talk to Irene unless he was going away to do something big, but he was hoping it wasn't the kind of assignment that made him wonder whether he’d be returning on his own two feet, or in a body bag. 

Crouching down before the elevator doors, the room he needed to be in only a few metres away, he faced the little girl before him, tucking some of the small wisps of hair away behind her ear, fishing around in his pocket for one of the glittery snap-clips he made an effort to always have on him, and internally cheering in victory when he found one. 

Sliding it into her hair to keep the shorter pieces out of her face, he brushed the tip of his finger along the bridge of a familiar nose, one she’d inherited from him, and grinning when her face scrunched up in distaste at the ticklish feeling the action gave her. 

“You gonna’ be good for me?”

“I’ll be on my bestest behaviour, daddy, I promise.” She adjusted the bag on her arm, pulling it down for only a second and placing it on the floor, unzipping the little backpack to root through it, before pulling out the item so wanted, brandishing it to him proudly. A plastic ‘nerf’ gun, loaded with foam bullets as at least three dozen more sat loose and rolling around the bottom of the bag, bright orange foam to match the neon green plastic of the toy, and she waved it excitedly in his face. “Mr Stan say’d that he’d help me practice to shoot things.”

“How very exciting.” He teased sweetly, zipping the bag back up and pulling it onto her arms, letting her push her arms through the straps and hold onto the fake gun in her hands with both hands. “Do you know where Stan is?”

“In the gym.”

He nodded, licking over his lips, checking the time on his watch and hurrying himself along. “And how do you get to the gym?”

“Press the button with ‘three’ on and run all the way to the end of the corridor when the door opens.” He scooped her up, standing up to his full height, balancing his daughter on his hip and pressing a kiss to her cheek. She took his face in her hands, his face crushing a little when plastic pressed into one side, but she pulled his head forwards enough to press a kiss to his forehead, seemingly sensing his nerves and returning the gesture he always gave her when she had nightmares or fears. Tipping his head back up, he dropped her down, pushing the button for the elevator and waiting patiently. “How long is your meeting, daddy?”

“Not long, princess, I’ll be there to get you real soon. We’ll have ice cream tonight, yeah?”

She cheered, her hand held out to him and he tapped his palm against hers in a high five, ruffling her hair as the doors dinged open and he was able to push her instead gently, watching as she pushed the button for the right floor and waved to him as she disappeared from sight.

Mitch paused for a second once she was gone, choking down the fear about what may happen to his daughter, reminding himself that she was wandering around the CIA main building, and that his little girl owned the hearts of almost everyone in the building, so there wasn’t a soul that would let anything happen to him. 

Spinning on his heel before he could change his mind and call the elevator back, and instead pacing the few large strides it took him to reach the meeting room, everyone else seemingly gathered, preparing themselves around the table, and he let out a huff at all of them, not even glancing up at the screens housing the powerpoints and presentations he was going to be seeing. Instead, he got himself a coffee, stirring the wooden stick aggressively through the shitty paper cup that did nothing to stop his hand getting burned if he held it too long, and picking up one of the pastries, squeezing it a little in his fingers to test the softness of it, before placing it into his mouth and holding it there with his teeth as he moved over to the seat reserved for him. 

There was already a brown manilla folder laid out for him, his name on top, and he took the pastry from his mouth, tearing off a chunk and chewing it quickly, before taking a swig of his coffee to wash it down with, wincing when the cheap liquid burned his throat. 

“Okay, Mitch, let's just jump right in.”

He looked up, huffing out as he did and wiping flaky crumbs from his shirt, before opening the first page of the folder and almost gagging at what he saw before him. Piles of bodies, all burned, the photograph clearly showing the smoke coming off of the stack of bodies, charred and fleshy, some dismembered and torn apart, battered and bruised, and he pushed the remainder of the croissant away from his as his stomach churned at the sight. 

“Underground ring of paid fighters, human trafficking, drug empire, it’s all rolled into one. Goods are being traded for bets, every single person so far identified from this pile is a missing person, some going as far back as four years, and there were two more piles.” Turning over the following page, Mitch let out a low whistle as he ran his eyes over the list of names attached to people he’d already  They’re working through people quickly, missing people coming up from all over the world, and he sighed out at the thought. “You’re going in undercover, obviously. We know that there must be a huge list of people adding to this web, with such a quick growth rate and being so well known, word of mouth is travelling fast in a criminal chain, and we need to know who the king-pins are. The next event is tomorrow night.”

“You need me to get kidnapped and put into the next fight by tomorrow night?”

Irene scowled at him, motioning for him to turn over the page, his eyes widened as he took in pictures of all the items that had been traded, everything from raw diamond extracts to people, kidnapped children holding the same worth as the deed rights to mansions, bile once again rising up in his throat, paternal possessiveness crawling in his chest and scratching to be released as he ran his fingers gently over the photograph of a young toddler whom he desperately wished was still alive and well. 

Flipping over the next page, he was equally as shocked to find a new set of false identities to add to his collection placed neatly within the pockets of the folder. A passport, a driving licence, a rendered photo of the look he was going for as well as a basic list of everything his new personality would entail. Picking up the piece of plastic that allowed him to drive a car, he scoffed at the name. “How the fuck do I even pronounce this?”

“It’s Polish. You won’t be doing much talking, if any, you just need to listen and place bets. Observe, photograph, be discreet, and find out who our big bosses are here.”

“So, I’m not fighting?”

“In a gladiator-style ring, fighting to the death with opponents who have probably won a lot of matches already? No, Rapp, you’re not a fighter. You’re a buyer.” She insisted, already sounding fed up with him, and he sneered a little at her, before nodding. 

“What am I supposed to take that’s of such high value?” She nodded to one of the interns beside her, a large cardboard box being lifted that he seemed to struggle to pick up, before he was tipping it out across the table, at least twenty neatly wrapped plastic packages spilling out before him, and he couldn't help the laugh that left his lips, before he was looking towards the other three boxes that she was gesturing to. “Where the fuck did you get that much cocaine?”

“Evidence lock up. A truly useful resource.”

He nodded a little, letting her run through the fact that he’d need to be at the runway for six sharp tomorrow morning, and that everything he needed would already be packed, an agent set to sort his outfit and help test him on everything he needed to know would fly over with him, but other than that, he was running solo. It was no more than a few days worth of work, tops, but he still didn’t like the idea of being away from his daughter for almost a week, and so he couldn't stop his moody huffing and puffing to himself once he’d left the room. 

The journey to finding his daughter was short, and yet he was still equally as irritated when he arrived there, searching for the little girl that ever failed to brighten his day, peering into the room through the windows, and spotting her standing beside his mentor in front of the bullet-riddled targets, as promised, her toy gun in her hands as little orange pellets littering the floor. 

Their focus wasn’t on the targets, however, it was a little further off, in the direction of the boxing bags and the sparring rings, but despite how much he craned his head, he couldn't see what they could, and so he was resigned to simply entering the room to actually find out. Pushing the button on the door to release the magnetic locking, the sounds of punching bags being battered, machines running and several voices in different areas field his ears, the room much cooler than the corridor, the air conditioning keeping it so, and a shiver ran down his spine.

The high-pitched cheering that he recognised as his daughter’s voice called out, and he followed the sound of it, making his way over to where the two people he recognised where standing, watching a lesson go down in the boxing ring, and his breath hitched, feeling as though his soul had physically left his body as his daughter stared up at you with rapt awe. For well over a year now, Mitch had cursed the slight trembles that went along his body and the butterflies that filled his stomach when you were around, because he had bigger responsibilities in his world than dealing with the fact that you somehow managed to render him back to being the same nervous wreck he was in high school as soon as a pretty girl walked past, the same Mitch he���d been in sophomore year before getting his braces off and growing out his buzzcut. 

He was used to pretty girls in little clothing, from high school until now, Mitch has been on various sports teams, and while being a  glorified killer for hire now was a little different to playing college lacrosse, he was used to cheerleaders and gymnasts and dancers surrounding him, tight yoga pants and sports bras and pretty eyes with a firm as and a smirk that made his legs weak. He was used to it, and yet somehow, you had more of an effect on him than the others. He wasn’t sure if it was the fact that you were by far his superior in the field, or maybe that you were also a terrifying killer that turned him on in some sick way, or maybe it was his lover-boy paternal instinct that flared up every time, because much like everyone else, Emma had you wrapped around her little finger. 

His daughter had spoken to you more than he had, his mind seeming to go blank every time he tried to talk to you, and so he often opted to just ignore you, a trait he was grateful that he could disguise behind the moody and darkened persona he’d built up. It was hard to keep that up, though, when he had to remind himself to close his mouth and stop staring at the way your body moves with grace and elegance in every single extremely well-executed move you used as you continued to take down the two other agents in the out-manned battle while barely breaking a sweat. 

You were incredible. Talented and funny and sweet, while also managing to be brutal and vicious and always successful in a field, every characteristic you had made you perfectly suited for this job, and he was half-convinced Irene had just made you in a lab to work for the CIA.

The first time he’d met you, you were wearing a black tank top and some tight leggings, a look that vaguely reminded him of the Black Widow, and so he’d pegged you as CIA eye-candy, before ever getting a look at your file, and feeling all bt blown away as your record made his look like child's play, his work held up next to your own was the equivalent of holding up one of his daughter's drawings from the fridge door up beside the ‘Mona Lisa’ or ‘Starry Night’. 

He was absolutely certain that you owned a little bit of his heart, even though he refused to acknowledge the jumps in his pulse when you caught his eye, or the way he wanted to reach out and hold your hand every time you got a little too close to him, because he was a grown-ass man, and a father at that, a would have been widower in addition, the little girl he had, having barely even reached the age of one when her mother had died on the holiday Mitch had taken her on to propose, never having gotten to see the event. 

His heart had healed since then, he’d been forced to for his job and for the baby he loved more than anything, but having someone else around to project his feelings onto certainly hadn't hurt. He wasn’t the same man he had been five years ago, though. He was covered with scars and trauma, inside and out, with a chaotic and unpredictable job that many wouldn't understand and he was unable to disclose, and so finding someone else to be with was a hard task that he hadn't had any luck in.

He leaned up against the doorway, watching as his daughter cheered on, grunting a little as she threw her own fists in fake punches, before pulling out his phone for only a moment, taking a short video and catching the sweet moment to save forever, before calling out her name, and watching as her little head whipped around to give him her attention instead.

Little feet were dashing over to him, toy gun discarded with her bag as they leaned against the steps of leading up to the ring, and she launched herself up into the air, faithfully believing he would catch her, barely giving him time to swoop down and grab her, but he managed to. She was energetic and enthusiastic, a trait he recognised from himself, and he adjusted her in his arms, allowing her to crawl across his body like a climbing frame, until he had clambered up onto his shoulders, legs dangling down onto his chest as she held fistfuls of hair he needed or get cut, balancing carefully as he held onto her ankles, a giggle on her lips as he looked out from her new height. 

“I’m bigger than everyone else now.”

“Yes, you are, Em. Are you ready to go?” She gave him a hum in reply, and he crossed the room to his mentor, who was now leaning with his arm folded on the edge of the ring and cheering everyone on, excitedly invested in the match that he was pointedly trying not to look at. Lifting her down from his shoulders, he crouched down to pick up the sparkly unicorn rucksack, putting the gun inside and handing it to her. “Go pick up all your bullets, princess, I’m not buying any more this month if you lose them all.”

“It’s not my fault I can’t find them in the street when we go out!” Her eyes were wide as she looked up at him, and he tapped her nose with the tip of his finger gently. 

“Shouldn’t shoot them out of the window then, should you?” She pouted, grumbling to herself as she made her way over to perform her cleanup duties, and he stood up to his full height, Stan facing him now. “Should only be gone about a week, not too bad, but I hate leaving Em for more than a few nights.”

“If you give me the number of your sitter, I can check in a few times with them.”

“I don’t have one anymore, she quit after the last one, saying Emma was too much for her’ with all the shit she does.” He frowned, remembering the summary that the nanny he’d had previously, saying that she was far too aggressive and imaginative, and that the girl never calmed down for even a second, and that she was simply too much for a person to handle. 

He refused to dampen her spirit, and if nobody else would nurture her than he sure would, because whatever Emma wanted to be then that was her call, she didn’t need to be tamed. She was wild, and enthusiastic, and her mind never stopped working. She was an intelligent girl for her age, and Mitch kept intending to have her tested, but that came right behind getting a new nanny, which he still hadn't had time to do between trying to help her learn to read and write, find a good online school for her to attend, and keep up with his job to pay the bills. 

Nobody said being a single dad was going to be easy. 

“What about her grandparents?” Hurley mumbled, eyes flicking up to the sparring match taking place, before back to him, and Mitch felt his own face screw up. 

“Katrina’s parents haven’t spoken to me since the funeral. They love her, and they send a letter once a year on her birthday that I’m collecting for when she’s old enough to understand them, but that can’t look at her without crying, and they can’t look at me.” Mitch shrugged, the pain of the event that had changed his life feeling nowhere near as aggressive as it once had, no longer ripping agony through his body like searing heat burning him from the inside out, but he still felt a little saddened at the thought of himself being the only family Emma ever had. “I have until tomorrow morning to find someone to look after her, and that doesn’t’ exactly inspire much confidence in my focus if I’m worried about the stranger caring for my baby girl.”

“I’ll do it.”

Mitch felt his breath hitch in his throat, a shadow falling over both of the men, before you were dropping down and feeding your legs through the elastic bands, leaning against them and reaching for your water bottle. You were panting front he exertion, skin shining a little from sweat, and somehow you still managed to look radiant, rendering Mitch barely able to catch his breath as you licked a stray drop of water from your lower lip and smiled at him. 

“You need someone to look after Emma, right?”

“Uh, yeah.. that’s, um, yeah.”

“Well, I’m more than happy to do it.” You shrugged, and Stan clapped you on the shoulder, seeming satisfied with the solution, said little girl seeming to choose this moment to come back over, wrapping her arms around one of his legs as she rested a cheek against his thigh, and he dropped a hand down to brush through her hair comfortingly as she waited patiently. “I know your job, and I know your daughter. I’m good with kids, and I have a guest room, I’m more than happy to do it.”

You were staring at him expectantly, and everything within him seemed to go into panic mode, his eyes flicking between you, his daughter and Hurley. Emma was peering up at him, a sweet little face that was mostly confused, but totally happy to just wait for her dad to be ready, while you were narrowing your eyes a little as him as the time dragged on, his throat feeling dry, even drier when he noticed the scrutinising gaze Stan was giving him as he gaped like a fish. Swallowing thickly and licking over his lips, he fixed you with a smile, nodding his head and looking back down.

“What do you think, Em? You want to stay with (Y/N) for a few days while daddy goes away to fight some bad guys.”

She rubbed at her chin, making both you and Stan laugh at her gesture, before she was leaning in a little closer to you, voice coming out like a whisper. “Do you like spaghetti hoops?”

“I do.” You had whispered back, her face lighting up, the craze she’d been so attached to lately of the pasta circles in a tomato-y sauce seeming to seal the deal as she nodded rapidly. “Here, give me a minute to write down my number and address, and you can swing by later tonight, I’ll get everything set up when I get home.” 

Mitch once again felt useless as he simply nodded, watching as you slipped out below the elastic ropes and found your bag, searching through for a pen, but not finding any paper. Instead, you pulled the cap off with your teeth, reaching for his arm and pushing up his sleeve, scrawling your number onto his skin, and tapping it with a triumphant sound when you were done. 

“There! Just give me a text later, and I’ll send you my address, and we can sort everything out.”

He finally managed to find words, promising he would do so, giving you a simple thank you and mustering what he hoped was a smile and not a nervous grimace, before Emma was wrapping her hand in his, and pulling him towards the door, yelling her goodbyes over her shoulder as she reminded him that he had promised her ice cream.

The entire evening had felt like a blur to Mitch, like at some point he was going to wake up cursing himself for having a dream about getting your address and number all in one night, that he was going to see you outside of work for the first time in his life. It was a thrill, an adrenaline rush of fear and excitement all in one. Personal lives in the line of work you both shared were something to be kept sacred, protecting your secrets and guarding them to your chest, and to be so easily welcomed into yours meant you trusted him, but he wasn’t sure what he was ready to find. Would you be wearing a wedding band on your own time? Did you have pictures up with a boyfriend or girlfriend, or were you in fact, the opposite of everything he thought you to be. 

He had absolutely no idea, his breath practically held in his throat as he rapped his knuckles against the door in a few swift knocks, hands place don his daughter’s shoulders as she rolled on the balls of her feet, far more laid back about it all, only having the excitement part of his fear and excitement bundle. 

Swinging the door open, you somehow managed to look exactly the same and entirely different all in one. The usual tight ponytail you wore was gone, your hair falling freely around your shoulders, a ripple in it from where the elastic had held it, and your face was free of makeup or sweat and dirt, leaving you looking raw and natural, a softer edge to your appearance. You were clearly in your relaxing mode, he’d only ever seen you in one of two looks; business formal with pencil skirts and blazers and an officiality to your gaze that made him nervous or in gym gear as you kept your world-class abilities up to spec through rigorous training.

You were wearing a hoodie, and a pair of cycle shorts, socks that were reaching just over your knees covered half of your legs, and he cursed under his breath when you crouched over a little, the hem of you hoodie covering the shorts altogether and sending his mind spinning into a series of fantasies and wonderings that he absolutely could not get caught up in.

“Hey there, Emma.” She threw her arms around your neck, letting you hug her back a little as you fell down to your knees from the impact, struggling to wrap your arms around her and her beloved backpack before she was moving from your arms again, and peering around you into your apartment curiously, but never stepping over the threshold. He all but preened with pride as he watched his daughter look up at you, blinking sweetly as she waited to be invited inside instead of just barging into your house, the manners he’d been working on with her for almost a year clearly beginning to take effect. “You wanna’ come in and put your bag down? The couch is right through there.” 

She buzzed past you the second you’d spoken the words, squealing with glee as she entered the new place she’d be exploring, and he managed to still his erratically beating heart, taming it down to a simple rhythm, and offering your hand to you to help you up from your crushed position to standing up again.

“Hey, Mitch.”

“Hey. I’m sorry about before, I just got caught off-guard that anyone would be willing to take her, you totally saved me on that, though.” He had practised the words in his head for the entire ride over here, his fingers flexing a little around the handles of the bag he held, filled with enough things to take care of Emma for a week. You only opened the door wider for him, inviting him inside, and he took a couple of steps forwards, the trained assassin in him immediately wanting to take in the environment, memorise everything in case he ever needed the knowledge. There was that one small part of him, however, that was searching for anything that might help him turn his feelings for you down, mute them a little, anything to make you seem a little less perfect in his eyes, but he couldn't find even a trace. “You, um, said you had a spare room? I can put Emma’s stuff away before I go, so you don’t have to unpack it.”

“Oh! Yeah, ‘course, my bad.” You took a step towards the living room, letting him call out to the young girl, who had already tipped out the contents of her toy bag onto the floor, and he cringed a little at the mess that had gathered up. “I wasn’t sure if she was scared of the dark, or anything, With a badass dad like you, I don’t imagine she’s scared of much, but kids are kids, right? I picked up a couple of night light things on my way home, and put them in the sockets around the house, in case she decided to get up in the night, or anything.”

“She’s a pretty heavy sleeper, she doesn't really wake up unless she has a nightmare, in which they’ll definitely help.”

Only a second later, Emma was barrelling into his side, knocking the breath from him as he staggered a little, her body practically bouncing as she weaved between his legs, and he scowled, shaking his he'd a little at her, but knowing he only had himself or blame for her sugar rush, having treated her to far more ice cream earlier than he should have. 

It was a simple room - as guests rooms go, but Emma seemed to love it, unzipping her bag and ragging out her favourite blanket to spread over the bedsheets front he second that it had been released, a ‘Frozen’ blanket covering the white bedding in all the spots it reached, looking more like a misplace square in the middle of the large bed, and she star-fished across the centre of it as he busied himself with unpacking her clothes into the drawers, all the lower ones that she could reach, and making sure she could see where he’d put everything for her. 

“I have a big bed now, like yours, daddy.” She was more than contented, and Mitch sat down beside her, watching as he rolled onto her stomach, before crawling over to take a seat in his lap, smiling up at you widely as you leaned against the wall and watched the two have their moment. “Do you have a big bed, too?”

“I have the biggest bed, ever! I could fit, like, seven Emma’s in it?”

She giggled as you stepped over, tickling at her sides a little, and he caught a whiff of the sweet shampoo you must’ve used only recently, the essence of coconuts and mangoes drifting into the air at your close proximity. “Only seven? Daddy’s bed could fit eight!”

“No way, that’s totally impossible!”

“It’s way possible!” She shouted, her voice echoing in his ear as he winced at the volume, but it didn’t dampen the smile on her face as he watched the two of you laugh together like it had been the funniest joke in the world. “Can I show you my dolls? I have to get them ready first, though.”

“Well, I will wait right here until they're ready, then!”

She squirmed in his arms, and he let her go, leaving just the two of you, and you took a seat beside him on the bed, bumping your shoulder to his for only as second, and it was still enough to make his heart skip a beat. 

“She’ll be totally okay, Mitch. I promise, I won’t let anything happen to her, she’ll have a great time.” Your words soothed him a little, the familiar sense of feeling like his throat was closing up every time he had to leave the most precious thing in his life, but he felt a little more reassured by your voice and your statement. 

“I know she will, I trust you.”

The words meant more to him than you knew, it was hard for him to trust people but for whatever reason it was, he trusted you with everything he had, before reaching for the bag, still a few items laying in it. 

“This is her teddy, she’s going to insist she’s a big girl and doesn’t need it because she wants to impress you, but she can’t sleep without it. Also, I wrote down some stuff in this notebook for you, as well as the emergency numbers for her doctor, and such. If you need it, her allergies are in here too, and just some information you might need..” You took it from him, the teddy sitting in your lap as you flicked through the notebook, grinning a little as you settled on one page. 

“Favourite pizza toppings; chicken and sweetcorn?”

He shrugged, grinning a little as heat flooded his cheeks, but you brushed your fingers over the pages, nibbling on your lower lip as you read some of the words he’d scribbled down, and his eyes were drawn into the action. You were talking, he could tell because your lips were moving, and he had to tear his eyes up from your mouth before you caught him staring, and when he managed to tune back in, he was grateful to hear you were just reading aloud, and weren’t saying anything important that he’d missed. 

Emma was calling you through, claiming the doll show to be ready, and he couldn't help but be happy that she had settled in so quickly, making him all that much more confident and secure in leaving her here with you for the time he was away. He followed after you dumbly as you carried the notebook away, placing it on the kitchen counter as you passed by, before he could see his daughter, kneeling on the floor and positioning her toys, the row of dolls lined up along the edge of the coffee table.

“Em, I have to go now, are you going to come say goodbye?”

She turned to look at him, her smile falling away for only a moment, before a smaller one was taking its place guilt clawing at his insides as he watched her stand up and wobble her way over to him on shaky little legs, before lifting her arms up for him to lift her into his arms. 

Her little arms wrapped around his neck, legs sealing to his waist as she buried her face into his neck, cheek pressed to his shoulder, short little puffs of breath washing over his skin, and Mitch buried his nose in his daughter's hair, hearing you leave the room to give them their space, a nation that he appreciated from you as he felt tears burn behind his eyes. 

“Miss you ‘ready, daddy.”

Her words were muffled by the way she was positioned, a breathy laugh leaving him as he nodded, peppering the expanse of the side of her head and face that he could reach with little kisses. “I’m gonna’ miss you a whole bunch, princess, but I’ll be back real soon, okay?”

“‘Kay.”

“You’re going to be good, right?”

“The best, I swears it.” She pulled back, holding out one of her pinkies for him, and he adjusted her to rest her weight on the forearm wrapped under her legs, before linking his pinky with hers, and kissing their joined hands. 

“That's my good girl, now you can go and play.”

She was happy to be let back down to the floor, and you reappeared, giving him a gentle smile before walking him the door, dread and anticipation filling him as he turned back to look at his little girl, waving when she looked up at him, pausing her playing. 

“I’ll be as quick as I can, and thank you so much for doing this.”

“Any time, really, I don’t mind even one bit.” Your words were honest and true, making him feel a little reassured, before he could hear the scuffling of socks on the carpet as Emma appeared behind you, tugging on your hand before raising her arms a little, mailing when you picked her up. Balancing her on your hip, she rested her head on your shoulder, holding on with one hand and reaching out a flat palm towards him, wiggling her fingers the best way she knew how to.

It was far too domestic, the way the two of you already had a dynamic that was intimate and sweet, his breath getting caught in his lungs as he looked at the pair of you, his imagination spiralling to places he didn’t have time to go to right now, but he knew would creep up on him later when he was on the plane. He leaned in, pressing a kiss to the top of his daughter's head, and suppressing the urge to look up and brush his lips to your own, settling for a simple nod, before swallowing thickly as he tried to force himself to move away from you both.

“I heard someone’s favourite pizza toppings were chicken and sweetcorn. How about we go inside and have a little look for some takeout places, yeah? You want pizza?”

You looked up at him for the approval, the distraction he was grateful for as his daughter’s wide eyes finally left him, because if she had stared for much longer he may have broken down entirely and stayed, but now it was easier. The spell was broken as he stepped away, mumbling a final goodbye to you both, before watching as the door closed, your smile and Emma’s wave to see him off, before he was able to release his breath, snap himself out of it, and walk away.

The second he’d landed, he was out of the plane and into the car, snatching up his bag and leaving the runway, encouraging the man sent to pick him up to speed up a little as he headed back towards the main building from the airport. He had to debrief, but it was a quick thing to accomplish, most of the work being documents online that could easily be completed and submitted as he wrote up a report of what happened, but more importantly, he’d have his daughter back by then.

The car seemed like it was only getting slower and slower, despite the fact that he knew it wasn’t, and as they finally pulled up into the parking lot, his stomach finally being able to unknot and relax as he saw his daughter, her hand linked through Stan’s as the man held a face like thunder - as usual - while Emma talked his ear off, uncaring of whether he wanted to hear the words or not.

From the moment he had the door open, he could hear her racing forward to meet him, and Mitch dropped down to his knees to catch his daughter’s body as she hurled herself into him, a collision that knocked the breath from his lungs, but he clung to her tightly. Little arms wrapped around his neck as he sealed his own around her little frame, one hand cupping the back of her head, smoothing her hair down as she gave him a tight hug, before pulling back and holding his face in her hands, scrunching up her face as she pressed a kiss to the end of his nose. 

“You’re home!”

“I’m home, for a long time, too, I hope.” He glanced up at Stan, who was pulling out a cigarette from the box behind him, standing back from Emma now that he could smoke without her being too close, and lighting up the death stick in his mouth, making sure to blow the smoke up above his head, just in case. Looking down at his daughter, his brows furrowed at the sparkly blue and pink tutu around her waist, layers of netting sticking out with gems and sequins sewn along the waistline, it was a real eyesore, and exactly the kind of thing a child would adore. “I’ve never seen this one before, where did you get it?”

He picked his girl up, balancing her across his front as he stood up to his full height, and taking his bag with him. “(Y/N) bought it for me! I wanted to play princesses, but I didn't have my dresses. She let out a sigh, smoothing little hands over the netting to press it down, before it was popping up again a moment later, and she seemed satisfied with whatever actions she’d taken. 

“And where is (Y/N)?”

Emma simply shrugged, choosing to busy herself with taking fistfuls of his hair and running her fingers through it before patting it down, and his attention moved to Stan, watching as he smoked quietly and watched the scene. “I took over looking after Emma this morning, she got a call in the middle of the night from Irene, a lead on her big case that she thought had gone cold last year. Popped back up, a sudden occurrence. She wasn’t going to go, but she had to, we both knew it.”

Mitch could only nod, knowing how hard you’d worked on that case, and how much it really did need to be closed, and his heart warmed at the fact you would give it all up to care for Emma, but he completely understood. It didn't stop the spark of disappointment that shot through him when he realised he wouldn’t get a chance to thank you personally, however, because he’d been particularly hoping that he would be functional enough to maybe try and string some words together, and ask if he could repay you by taking you out to dinner.

His confidence was already draining from him, the adrenaline and victory high he’d been on that had spurred the idea on the first place was melting away, and he sighed out a little, not knowing when the next time he’d get to see you would be. 

“Shame, would’ve been nice to see her.” He cleared his throat as Hurley’s eyes narrowed on him for the comment, and he shrugged his free shoulder. “Thank her for looking after Em, check how it all went, you know.”

“Uh-huh.” The man didn’t seem to believe him, but he didn't comment on it, instead dropping the butt of the cig to the floor and stomping it out, before opening the back of his car with a click of his car keys, the bags he had dropped his daughter off with were sitting in the back. “Well she’s gone by now, but I have Emma’s stuff for you, now get in the car so I can take you both home. There’s a reason I didn’t have my own children, y’know.”

Mitch scowled at him, glancing at his daughter, who seemed to know exactly what he meant and was uncaring as she grinned wickedly at Stan, who glared back equally at the girl, before offering her a smile. 

“C’mon, Emma, I’m not moving your car seat from the front, your dad can ride in the back.”

She clapped her hands with a loud squeal, before squirming from his arms and into Stan’s, letting him toss his bag in the back and slam the trunk shut, before clambering into the back seat as his superior started up the car.

It was two months before Mitch got to see you again, and he worried for you every single day because of it. Emma would not stop asking about you, she’d spent at least the entirety of the first month telling him about everything the two of you had gotten up to over your time spent together on repeat, until he felt like he could tell the stories himself. 

Emma had decided that her latest obsessions had moved on from playing house to holding tea parties, her dollies no longer being her children but instead being her guests, and the backpack carrying plastic guns and princess crowns had been swapped out for a miniature briefcase with a portable tea set, one that flipped over to make a table for her to sit at. The entire set had cost him over a hundred dollars, and he was absolutely certain that he could have constructed himself a better one for ten dollars and a trip to target, but he didn’t have the time for that. 

Emma had taken to setting up the table beside the ring, the boxing back, or the equipment that he was working on whenever he came to the gym, Irene beginning to get at him to find a new nanny so that no children were wandering around the building anymore, but he had seen her accept a fake plastic cup on multiple occasions, and even once caught her letting Emma label files with the label maker in her office, so he wasn’t taking the threat all that seriously. 

Other agents had chipped in too, because they didn't have the willpower to resist a four-year-old with pigtails blinking up at them, wide-eyed with a pout as she holds a painted plastic teapot and an empty plastic mug to match. No matter how frequently her attention was taken away - a fact he was entirely grateful for, because he had no idea how to attend a ‘tea party’ - for a split second, her questions always came down to when you’d be back, and Mitch was beginning to lose his mind a little bit, running out of excuses.

He was pounding away on a punching bag, his daughter sitting beside him and singing a little tune to herself in the almost empty gym as she occasionally offered him ‘sips of tea’ from the empty cup, before Stan was bursting in through the doors with extreme force and speed, and Mitch’s stomach twisted at the idea that he was either about to get bollocked, or given an assignment.

Pulling up the edge of his shirt to wipe the sweat from his face, he placed a hand flat on the sandbag to bring it's swinging to a stop. 

It wasn’t him that Stan was looking for, though, it was Emma. He offered the girl a smile, an expression reserved for her and her only, as she spun around to him, thrusting a teacup into his hand as he came to a stop and crouched before her. “I have a surprise for you, kiddo.”

“You do?” He nodded, and she squealed excitedly, pulling a doll away from one of the seats on the floor by its foot, tossing it to the side in a way that Mitch had certainly done with actual people, a smirk flicking at his lips as the slightly macabre thought of ‘like father, like daughter’ flickered across his mind, watching as she falsely filled Stan’s cup up with tea. “What is the surprise, Mr Stan?”

She sounded exasperated already, and both of them chuckled at her strained voice as she all but bounced on her feet. “Guess who’s back?”

Mitch felt his own heart skip a beat, licking over his lips and trying to control himself from jumping into the conversation, choosing instead to unwrap his hands of his boxing tape slowly, pretending like he wasn’t quite as invested in this news as he actually was. Stan confirmed Emma’s guess when she finally reached your name, coming third in her guesses behind Scooby-Doo and Princess Sofia, and he wasn’t sure when either of the fictional characters had gone missing, but apparently, in her mind, they were a dire missing person’s case.

He only had to wait around five minutes, before he caught glimpses of you going along, two interns following behind you, a whirl of beauty and grace, before you were entering the gym, dead set on making your way towards the lockers and showers.

He could see you more clearly now, anger on your face as blood and dirt covered you almost from head to toe, and you still managed to look beautiful. One of the junior agents following behind you was holding up a phone, microphone pointed towards you as you spoke, listing off every detail of the case that you possibly could, as the other held out a packet of antiseptic wipes and a plastic bag, each time you fingers plucked another one from the packet to scrub at your skin, the old one being collected. 

With a black eye and a bust lip, he still thought that you looked beautiful, the stunning hair and makeup up-do that you must’ve had done was completely destroyed, but the silk gown hugging your body seemed almost intact, save for the blood spatters and dirt, and you ran your fingers through your hair, pulling out the clips holding it up and teasing the knots in the strands.

Every further look he took, you seemed more and more exhausted and battered, the bruises on your arms a chest obvious to him now, the scratches and cuts that were inflamed and red, poorly patched up with in the field medical supplies, a miss matching collection of band-aids and gauze, and Mitch almost had to cover his daughter's ears as he realised just how many curse words and language he wasn’t ready from her to hear yet were spilling from her mouth, but you beat him to it, mouth snapping shut. 

You’d looked around now, noticing the three of them in the corner, and came to a full halt, a deep sigh leaving you as you met Emma’s eyes, his daughter staring up at you in awe and wonder. Lifting a hand, you waved your fingers at her in a sweet wave, dismissing the two agents who were quick to scurry away. You kicked off your heels, leaving them discarded on the floor as you unstrapped a gun from your thigh, dropping it and the holster to the floor, before holding your arms out to her.

“Princess, be careful! (Y/N) is-”

He cringed, words a little too late as he watched Emma barrel herself into you, almost knocked flat on your back as you caught her in your kneeled position, and he heard the breath forced from your lungs as a whine. 

“Injured. She’s injured, Em, just like daddy sometimes is when he comes home. We have to be gentle, remember?” She simply nodded, pulling back a little with a soft apology under her breath, and you brushed her hair back, pinching her cheek and letting her take your hand as you stood back up. “I’m so sorry about that.”

“Don’t worry about it, I’ve been waiting to see this little cutie again for months, anyway.” You brushed it off, but he could hear the tiredness in your voice and see the slight wobble as you studio up, swaying despite not moving and walking, and he worried a little more for you. Stan placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, wishing you a congratulations before following in the direction that the other agents had gone, and leaving the three of you alone in the room. Emma took her hand from yours, pulling off her trainers to place her tiny feet into your heels, trying to balance and shuffle forwards, and you reached a hand out to steady yourself on his shoulder, shaking your head clear a little bit. “I haven’t slept for, like, three days. I’m exhausted.”

“Well, you still look nice. Beautiful, really. You look great.”

You raised your brows at him for a second, looking down at yourself and taking it all in, before a soft laugh was leaving your lips. “I look a mess, but I do appreciate the confidence boost.” 

He joined in with your laughs, his heart feeling completely full, and he swallowed thickly to try and choke down his anxiety. You both turned to watch Emma shuffle around, taking tiny steps as she found her rhythm in your heels, looking adorable as she carried around a teacup in one hand and two massively oversized heels in the other.

“Will you stay for tea with us?”

“Oh, Em, I think (Y/N) is probably a bit tired tonight, mayb-”

You squeezed his shoulder, his head cutting to turn to you, and you shook your head at him a little bit. “I would love to, Emmy. Did you make the tea yourself?”

She gasped, nodding excitedly as she abandoned her heels and dashed over to the table again, finding another cup and setting you a place, getting lost in her own world as she listed off the different kind of teas she ‘had’, the list sounding exactly like the aisles at Walmart she’d forced him to stand in for thirty minutes as she memorised them three days ago. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, totally. Why don’t you go shower up, and then when you get back, you can drive me home, because I’m pretty sure I’ll fall asleep behind the wheel if I drive.”

He grinned, ducking his head for only a second, before confirming that he would. “I won’t be long. Promise.”

The next few weeks felt like a slow slide turning into an avalanche, like he’d been slipping on his feet a little for the past few years and was no tumbling like a cartoon down a snowy mountainside, becoming an ever-growing snowball before the brick wall he was bound to hit into sooner or later.

He had been perfectly capable of keeping his feelings under wraps while you barely interacted, greeting one another in the corridor when he was able to pass with simple grunts and on syllable responses, but now you talked. He had somehow managed to make a friend of you, your smiling face every time he passed you by making him feel like he was heating up from the inside, fire bursting from his fingertips anytime, and he wondered if he looked as red in the face as he felt each time.

Mitch could now confirm that without a doubt, he was head over heels in love with you, and you had absolutely no idea. At this point, he didn’t really have anything left within himself to even chastise his heart for making this decision against logic and reason’s advisement, because you were absolutely everything he needed. He never had to lie to you about where he was, or what he was doing, and when he'd had a particularly rough day or assignment, you understood what he needed, sitting with him quietly and swapping the coffee that made him jittery out for a calming camomile tea. You loved his daughter, and she loved you, and you’d managed to support him along his single-fatherhood like nobody else had, making everything seem a little bit easier, because he had a friend to go through it with. 

You were always willing to offer a helping hand, a comforting comment or a funny joke to cheer him up, and you’d never said no at the chance of seeing Emma. Said little girl had attached herself to you like a barnacle, wanting to spend as much time with you as she possibly could, and it was both a blessing and a curse for him. On the one hand, any time you were around, Emma didn’t want his mediocre guest skills, because as it had turned out, you were an excellent tea pastry guest. You had the popped up little pinky, and the small talk to match, and you’d even somehow found a set of saucers that match the pattern to give to her when her fifth birthday had passed by. The problem was, when you were sitting on the gym floor and drinking fake tea with his little girl, his concentration was anywhere but the sparring matches and boxing bags, and he often found himself on his back and pinned to the floor by recruits, or being smacked in the face by a bag that swung back at him with force. 

His body and face were constantly littered with healing bruises, and there was no chance that Emma was ever going to take her sights off of you, because she had decided that you were her new role model, his chest aching at the thought that he couldn't provide a mother figure for his daughter, that she was growing up and scrabbling to learn front the women around her.

He thought it was adorable that she’d started wearing her dresses more, just so she could tuck her nerf gun into the waistband of her leggings in claims that she wanted to match the way wore your gun under your dress too, or the way she’d started trying to tie her own hair up in the same style you did, but she needed more.

She needed someone to teach her how to paint her nails when she was older and help her pick out an outfit for prom, and to teach her about the women’s side of things, because Mitch still didn’t understand the difference between pads with wings and the ones without, and at what age you’re supposed to move onto tampons, and why a skincare routine needed to be so intense, and what the fuck purple shampoo was, and he didn’t know what to do about it all.

Most of all, he was just glad to have someone back in his life that didn’t bark orders at him or rely on him. Emma was a handful, and he loved her with all of his heart, and Stan was a good enough friend but still a tough superior, and he hadn't had a friend of his own in years, and sometimes, when he finally got to sit down on his couch with a cold beer in hand after putting Emma to bed and having some time to himself, he let his mind wander. 

He’d daydream about having someone with him, having you with him, having a friend to talk to. He was lonely in the nights, and when the bed felt cold, and when he never had anyone to share his thoughts with that Emma wasn’t old enough to understand. Being closed off had always helped him, because his number one priority always had been and always would be his daughter, he didn’t want anyone coming into his life that she may not like or that may hurt her, and yet Emma had chosen you all on her own. She had seen you, picked you out by hand and decided that you were everything she wanted to be when she grew up, and he couldn't blame her in the slightest, because he couldn't imagine a better role model. 

All of thee thoughts seemed to come spilling over one day when he had intended to say a simple thank you, catching you just before you’d moved away to hit the showers, while Emma was still built giggling with Stan as he helped her fire her latest new child-friendly firearm addition at the newest targets, one of the interns moving around with a bullseye on his chest as she shot foam bullets at him.

“I just wanted to say thanks.”

“For what?” You were a little bit breathless and sweaty, and you were licking your lips on repeat as you tried to get them to stay wet after your intense workout, and his mind was short-circuiting a little bit.

“Everything. Lately.” He barely even paused for breath, before his mouth was continuing without his mind's approval. “I know you have no obligation to us, or to my Em, but she looks up to you, she adores you, and I think it’s good for her to have a mom-type role.” His eyes widened as you laughed a little, and he felt like he was choking on his own tongue as he tried to figure out how to backpedal from that statement. “Oh, God, not that you are her mom, y’know, just that she has a female role-model, because she needs it, I can’t imagine anyone better for her to want to aspire to be like than you, you're an incredible influence!”

With a hand on his arm, you cut off his rambling, and his ears were ringing with the pressure slamming about inside his head, the internal loop of his thoughts now just have become a loud screaming that accurately represented how he felt. 

Your lips were pursed together now as you tried to hold in a grin, your thumb rubbing over his bicep in what he was sure was supposed to be a comforting motion but was actually just driving him more and more insane, the domesticity of the sweet actions meant he was definitely reading a little to far into them, but he didn’t care, because he was taking a deep breath as he tried to calm himself down, matching the rise and fall of his shoulders with yours, until subconsciously, he was able to relax once again.

“I always kinda’ wanted a kid, but in this line of work, you don’t really get the chance to meet anyone, never mind meet anyone that wants kids themselves, so I’m glad she’s taken an attachment to me.” You seemed to panic a little at your own words there, his lips flicking up at the sides, in knowing he wasn’t the only one struggling with his words right now. “I’m not trying to steal your baby Mitch, I just love her to bits, and I’m more than happy spending time with her. She’s an amazing little girl, and you’ve done such a good job raising her. You are a fantastic father, Mitch.”

He took a moment to wonder if ‘heart eyes’ were a real thing, or whether there were little birds flying around his head, maybe a massive neon sign above him that simply read ‘I am so fucking in love with you that it hurts’, because that is how he felt, hearing you compliment his parenting abilities, his daughter and their family all in one. His voice felt hoarse as he tried to speak, coughing a little to clear it, but unable to tear his gaze away from yours as he spoke the raspy words, voice cracking a little; “Thank you.”

“I’m going to go wash up, alright?”

He could only nod, his eyes widening to the size of golf balls when your hand slipped up from his arm, across his shoulder and to his cheek, before your lips were pressing to the other, brushing smoothly over rough stubble in a soft peck, before turning away from him and disappearing before his very sight behind the set of double doors leading to the shower rooms. He knew his face was red this time, knew that he was absolutely shocked as he felt like he was going to combust at any moment, whilst also wanting nothing more than to let his weak knees give way so that he could collapse down into the cold floor until his instincts were no longer in overdrive. 

Turning around, he was even more mortified to find Emma balanced on Hurley’s hip, watching with a grin as his mentor stared at him with a wide and knowing smirk. 

“Daddy and (Y/N) sittin’ in a tree!”

He fixed his daughter with a stern look, taking a step over, and dread filled him when his boss chuckled, before taking a deep breath, and he already knew what was coming next, the two of them chanting the rhyme together;

“K-I-S-S-I-N-G!”

People began to look over at them from the sheer volume of the combined voices, and he snatched his daughter away, scowling at his mentor as he did. He was an assassin, for fuck’s sake, he didn’t have to listen to this shit. Once he knew she wouldn't see it, Mitch was holding his finger up to flip off the older man, before ducking down to scoop up his daughter’s things, and fleeing from the gym before he had to listen to any more of Stan’s teasing, the now knowing for sure that Mitch had one very big weak spot.

That moment had been the result of over a month’s worth of teasing since, smirks in his direction anytime you were within Mitch’s general presence, and like some high school chain of gossip, Stan had passed the information onto Irene, who had told her IT guy and her personal assistant, and he wasn’t sure how many other people knew by now, but it had to be at least half of the people he ever interacted with. Which was a fair fucking amount. 

Now, he really did feel like a high schooler with a crush all over again.

He was actively trying not to think about it, instead watching Emma colour in one of the tigers in her colouring book with a green crayon and blue stripes, red eyes that were a little bit haunting in his opinion, when the door knocked quietly and repetitively, and they both froze up a little. Emma was out of her chair like a dash, though, racing toward the front door before he could stop her, and Mitch felt his heart rise up in his throat as she reached for the handle, swinging it open to the unknown arrival and possible threat, before his breath was hitching in his throat.

He wasn’t sure if he was nervous, elated, confused, or a mixture of all three at seeing you standing on his doorstep. A pair of jeans and a baggy jumper, you hair sitting naturally instead of pulled back tightly once again, but this time you wore a little bit of makeup, and you looked softer than he’d ever seen you, possibly even passing for a simple civilian, covered from being a top-secret agent of the highest calibre for just one night. 

“Uh, hi?”

He hated the way his word came out, wishing he’d managed to sound more welcoming, but instead he’d managed to sound on edge and crass, your brows furrowing a little as you looked at him, before shaking your head fondly. “This was Emmy’s doing, wasn’t it?”

“What is this, exactly?”

You opened your mouth to reply, before the girl he’d been trying to hold behind him damaged to break free, a high-pitched yell on her lips as she wrapped her arms around your legs, crushing her face into her stomach as she laughed excitedly. “You came! You really came over!”

You crouched down when she pulled away, a smile on your lips, but it didn’t reach your eyes, and Emma placed her hands on your shoulders when you were at her height. “You have been lying and keeping secrets, little missy!” You tickled at her sides lightly, and she crumpled into laughter, before you were continuing. “Your daddy did not invite me over for dinner, did he? You can’t just go around inviting people to dinner!”

“I didn’t lie! Or keep secrets, swearsies!” She stuck her pinky out in your direction, and you didn’t accept it immediately, making her sigh over-dramatically. “Daddy says surprises don’t count as lying if it’s a good surprise, and I know you’re his friend and playdates are always fun and I wanted to surprise him.”

He knew she was trying to whisper, but wasn’t doing an excellent job of it, and he felt his frown slipping away, instead smoothing a hand over her hair to draw her attention up to him. “You’d better go and set an extra place at the table, Em. Clear away your drawings, and later, me and you and going to talk about inviting people over to the house without my permission, okay?”

She frowned, her entire face screwing up with the motion, but she nodded nonetheless, and you shifted to show the tote bag that was tucked under your arm, before pulling out a green bottle, a fancy label on the front as you handed it over to her, Emma’s face lighting up as he dashed inside with the gift.

“Did you just give my daughter a bottle of wine?”

You gasped, standing up to your full height before him, shaking your head fervently. “Of course not! I gave her an old wine bottle filled up with sparkling grape soda so she can feel all grown up!”

“You did all that just for Emma’s impromptu dinner party?” You shuffled from foot to foot, nodding a little, and he felt his heart melt as an entirely new side of you shone through, a new you that was different to the confident and bold woman he knew while on duty, and leaving him with a slightly anxious sweetheart in an oversized jumper. “That’s fucking adorable, you know that, right?”

“I’m not adorable.” You mumbled, and he laughed, reaching out to pinch your cheek before you swatted it away, and the energy between you both felt completely different. He wasn’t nervous with the real you, he was only nervous with the work you. This side of you put him at ease, this side of you made him feel comfortable and relaxed, and he didn’t feel his heart try to burst out of his chest too hard when you smiled back at him this time. “Are you sure you want me here? I can go home, I should have known better, texted you beforehand to check, or something.”

“Do you mind eating dinosaur chicken nuggets and smiley face waffles?”

“That sounds amazing, actually.” He beamed, swinging the door open a little wider for you, and welcoming you into his home, your shoes being toed off by the door as you pulled the sleeves down over your hands, before spinning to him with a sudden intake of breath as he closed the door and remembered to put the highest locks on again. “I bought something for you, too.”

“Is it wine in a grape soda bottle?”

“You wish.” You teased presenting him with a bottle of wine, the cork still in it, and he took it from you, grinning as he looked it over, before meeting your curious gaze, and putting your nerves to rest. 

“We can have it after Emma goes to bed, maybe?”

It was a bold move, and he knew it, but at this point, he didn’t have much of his dignity or pride left to lose, and it seemed to pay off as you leaned into him a little, letting out a light breath. “I’d love that.”

He placed the bottle of red down on the coffee table, leaving it there before he had a hand on your lower back, and was guiding you through to the kitchen where Emma was trying to work out which side of the plate the knife was supposed to go on, and which side was the fork.

As much as he admired and adored his daughter’s intentions, he really wished he known, because Mitch found himself dishing up the most un-sophisticated dinner ever, and standing in a slightly messy kitchen to match a slightly messy apartment, covered in children’s toys and carpets he hadn't vacuumed in almost two weeks, wearing sweatpants and a shirt with a hole in the arm that was faded from all the wear and tear it had seen over the years.

He did the best he could, though, because this was the kind of moment he never thought he’d get to have with you, and he busied himself with splitting up the meal, taking all the brontosaurus' and triceratops into your and his plates, because Emma only liked the t-rex’s and the pterodactyls, claiming they tasted different. Arranging them around the outside, he filled the middle with the number of smiley faces that she’d actually at, despite knowing she’d argue for more. Fishing out the ketchup, he squirted the sauce out, shaping it in a couple of hearts, before picking up her plate and placing it down in front of her, placing a kiss to the top of her head. 

Your plate was next, the bottle of ketchup going down into the middle of the table as he sat down opposite you. As predicted, Emma complained about the quantities, before tucking in, constantly talking with her mouthful as she tried to add to the conversation. He drank sparkling grape soda from an old wine bottle with you both, and watched as Emma told you everything she could possibly think of that you may not already know, before offering to show off her bedroom to you after dinner.

He both hated and loved how naturally you bonded with his daughter, and how seeing you sitting across from him eating kids meals and having a biased thumb war with his five-year-old at the dinner table felt like something that was meant to be in his life, and definitely something he knew he could get used to. You helped clean up, standing by his side and washing the pots as he dried and put them away, much to your insistence as he told you you didn't have to, and Emma pinned up her blue and green demon-tiger on the fridge, before clearing away her crayons and going to clean her teeth. 

You let her give you the ‘grand tour’ of her bedroom as he leaned in the doorway, trying not to think about how he’d very much like to give you the grand tour of his bedroom, and distracting himself by picking out the bedtime story he’d read to her once she was settled under the covers. 

He found you again once the girl was asleep, flicking out the lights and finding you sitting on his couch, passing your time by quietly reading the book he’d had out on the coffee table, seemingly already further through it than he’d had the chance to get in over a week, but closing it up when he sat down beside you, two real wine glasses and a corkscrew in hand as he offered one to you.

You shifted as he sat down, resting your feet in his lap once he’d popped the cork out, whispering a quiet ‘thank you’ once your glass had been filled, and just like that, you were once again dragging him down into that hazy feeling he’d spent the entire night in, leaning his head on the cushion, and letting the first things that came to mind spill from his mouth. The conversation took off from there, starting as you conversed the book he had out, and moving to other books, before movies and TV shows, general likes and dislikes, learning one another slowly. 

Everything you told him made him like you a little bit more, your quirks and sharp edges, a kind of devotion finding a place in his heart that he never thought he’d feel again as you continued on, before the topic had switched to the future. He spilled his fears, that he wanted Emma to do private elementary schooling, but to attend an actual middle and high school, to get the full experience like she deserved, but that he also just wanted to protect her from the entire world. He confessed that he constantly felt like he was failing, tearing up when he told you about how he was certain he couldn't give her as much as she deserved, leaning into your hand when you wiped away the tear that fell free, and you spilled your own wishes to him.

Everything before the trauma that had landed you in the CIA at a younger age than him, and that no relationship had ever worked out for you, because you could never get past the ‘so, what do you do for a living?’ stage, and could never move in with someone, plan dates, or make a future. You told him about how you still wanted the same little things all little girls wanted, a pretty wedding and a devoted spouse and a beautiful child to raise into the world and add to society, to leave a legacy behind in the form of a beautiful person who would live their own life, and that you worried you’d never get it. 

By the end of the bottle, the two of you were more than tipsy, and he felt like he'd known you forever, his body pressed to yours, and an arm wrapped around you as your head leaned on his shoulder, deep sighs leaving you both. 

“I’m sorry if tonight was a total fail.”

You shifted, just slightly, before raising a hand, weaving your fingers with his on the hand sitting over your shoulder. “Why would you think that?”

“It’s been.. a while since I last took a pretty woman out for dinner, and it isn’t supposed to be soda and chicken nuggets, and you shouldn’t wear sweatpants, that’s for sure.” You turned a little, pressing the rumble of your laugh into his shoulder, and he didn't even have enough inhibition to be embarrassed about his lack of filter.

“Tell you what, Mitch, if you want to take me out to dinner, then I will dress up all pretty to be on your arm. But, for the record, I am more than happy to spend a dinner date with you and Emma eating kid’s food, in sweatpants and hoodies.” He whined a little under his breath, before pulling back enough to look at you, and resting his forehead on your own. 

“Do you have any idea how perfect you are?”

Your breath hitched a little from his words, and he twisted his head, enough to bump his nose with your own as he tasted your breath on his lips, licking over his own and working up the nerve to close his mouth in against your own, slot them together in a simple kiss.

He didn’t get the chance, before you were both jumping apart in slight shock when Emma’s bedroom door clicked open, the two of you watching the girl shuffle down the hall, rubbing at her eyes, entirely unaware of her surroundings as she moved into the bathroom, the door closing behind her. The atmosphere felt entirely shattered, his confidence shooting back down to the floor, the startle from his daughter sobering him up a little, now.

“I should go, it’s probably quite late.”

He only nodded, grabbing the empty bottle and the glasses, running them through to the kitchen and leaving them for himself to sort in the morning, before meeting you by the front door. You were tugging your shoes back on, your hood pulled up over your head to fight the cold that waited outside, and your bag on your arm again. 

“I meant it, though. I had an amazing night.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You breathed, pressing a kiss to his cheek again, this one lingering, you forehead bumping his temple as you pulled back, before you were waving to him and walking away toward the stairs, letting him watch until you were sealed within the box and taken from his sights, and he locked the front door once again. 

When he turned, Emma was standing there, her thumb in her mouth as she stared up at him, and he reached down, plucking it from between her lips and wiping it off, crouching down before her. 

“Do you love (Y/N)?” He all but choked on his breath, staring down at the little girl in shock, before she yawned again, covering her mouth and shrugging her shoulders. Lifting her arms up, she allowed Mitch to pick her up, flicking off the lights in the house as he went, heading away with a destination of her bedroom as her face settled into his neck. “I love (Y/N). She's my bestest friend.”

He placed her down onto the mattress delicately, the nightlight in her room casting a soft pink glow over her features, and he smiled sadly as he looked at her, little eyes fluttering shut as she snuggled back into her blankets. He could see so much of Katrina in her features, sure that they would only develop more as she grew older, but it no longer hurt to look at her like it did in the first year, and he no longer felt that same pang of pain in his heart at the flash of her face across his mind, just nostalgia that made his heart slow a little, for only a second, in memory of someone it had lost.

In addition, though, he could see so much of you in her personality. His little girl was brave, and confident, and would be truly unstoppable one day, and he loved it, stroking his fingers over her hair and smiling a little when she opened his eyes to peer at him curiously, still waiting for an answer from him.

“I do. I love her too, princess.” She smiled to herself like she’d been told the world’s biggest secret, tucking her face into her pillow some more as sleep began to come back to claim her. “She’s special. She’s like.. like-”

“A queen!”

He laughed a little at her words, finding the teddy bear that had fallen from the bed to the carpet and tucking it under her arm, raising a brow in question. “A queen?”

“I’m the princess.” She murmured, the nickname he gave her so fondly rolling from her lips. “That means you’re the king, and (Y/N) can be the queen.”

The stinging realisation that she was searching for another figure in anyone that she could find made him ache with freezing cold ice from head to toe, his eyes welling up a little bit as he tried to hold a brave face, kissing her forehead as he stood up, bidding her a goodnight as her breathing went shallow, and closing the door again behind him.

“Daddy, can you get married?”

Emma was holding up the last of her Haribo sweets on her finger, before chewing the gummy ring off, and he turned to look at her, raising his head from his work, before turning to glare at Stan as he snickered. “Did you set this up?”

“I did nothing!” 

He peered at his daughter's iPad, another scene from ‘Frozen’ up on the screen as Anna and Hans’ voices barely reached his ears through the headphones she’d taken off, and he let out a deep sigh, Stan texting on his phone and ignoring them both, and Mitch placed down the pen for the work he was signing off on. “I want to get married, daddy.”

“One day, princess.”

“I want you to get married, too. Why can’t we have a wedding, daddy?” He rubbed a hand over his eyes, before giving his full attention to his daughter. He wasn’t sure how to answer, or what to say, but she was staring up at him hopefully as she nibbled on a gummy bear, the crown on her head tipping a little bit to the side, and he reached out to place it on her head properly again.

“We can have a wedding if you want to, baby.” He couldn't help it, but her little hands were clapping together excitedly and her face lit up, and he didn’t regret the choice at all. “Stan will officiate.”

“I will do no such thing!” The man insisted, but Emma ignored that, only getting more excited as her hands became fists while she cheered. 

“Yay, Mr Stan!”

He glared at Mitch, who only smirked back at him, signing his name in confirmation at the bottom of the papers and finishing them off, the man growling under his breath but being unable to refuse, and Emma was leaping out of her chair, fishing out her other crown, and presenting it proudly. 

“Royal crowns! Wedding crowns!”

She stamped her feet excitedly, clutching it to her chest as her entire body all but vibrated with excitement, and he was out of his chair in seconds, scooping her up happily and pressing kisses to her cheeks as the other crown fell away, her childish giggles filling the room as he spun her around. 

“Right, right, c’mon then. I have a meeting in ten minutes, so if we’re having a royal wedding, we’re on a timer.”

Hurley let out a heaving sigh as he stood up, the door bursting open a second later as you all but fell through, a more formal outfit than usual on you, a pencil skirt and tight jumper, your eyes wide and phone clutched in hand. “What happened?”

“What?”

“The emergency! What happened?” Mitch looked over at Stan, your eyes following his, and you growled under your breath, picking up one of the croissants from the cart beside you and throwing it across the room at him. “You don’t just text people ‘quick, help, there is an emergency’ when there is no emergency, Stan!”

“There is an emergency! Someone has to marry Mitch!”

“Are you fu-” You cut yourself off, pinching the bridge of your nose, before walking over to them and covering Emma’s ears. “Are you fucking kidding me, Stan? I was in a debriefing.”

“I thought I was marrying Emma?” Mitch felt like he was talking to himself as he realised he'd been set up, Emma arranging him until he was facing you, her hands on your hips as she turned you to face him, and suddenly, he couldn’t breathe again. Since your dinner a few weeks ago, neither of you had spoken about what had almost happened, slipping right back to being close friends, and he wasn’t sure whether or not to take that as a good sign. 

He couldn't help but think about how odd this entire situation was, the child of the fiancée who had died was holding a fake marriage to someone else, someone she had seemed to have adopted as her own motherly figure, and he felt like it was all a little too weird to actually focus on for too long. 

“Em, do you remember what we said about surprises?”

“Yes! You said surprises are okay!” She growled a little at him, her best wolf impression as she tried to get him to back down, and he returned it, watching as her face screwed up with anger and her arms crossed. “Surprises are okay if it makes everyone happy, that’s what you said, daddy!”

“Yes, but how do you know everyone is happy, Emma?”

“Because you love (Y/N)!” Mitch wanted the ground to open up and suck him in, possibly just let him never return, but then someone has to look after Emma, and he didn't even bother to cover her ears as he let a string of curses fall from his mouth, embarrassment flaring up warmth across his entire body, swelling in his chest all the way up to the tips of his ears in a suffocating heat as his head dropped. “It’s okay, daddy! (Y/N) loves you too! Mr Stan says so!” 

He heard the dull thud of what sounded like a very solid punch being delivered to Stan, and he had been about to take the same action himself feeling a little bit better at knowing the man got a dig in for his sneaky actions.

“You have to get married and be happy, daddy.”

“Yeah, Rapp. You have to be happy. It’s an order.” He looked up at the man, a more genuine look on his face than any he had ever seen, and he gave in a little, finally managing to drag his eyes up to meet yours. You reached out, taking his hands in yours and pulling him in a little closer to you, as you winked at his daughter, and looked back up to him. 

Stan cleared his throat, lifting Emma onto his hip, and she clutched two crowns excitedly in her hands. “We are gathered here today, to join Mitch Rapp and (Y/N) (Y/L/N) in the most epic royal wedding ever.” Emma giggled at his words, nodding in agreement. “Do you, Mitch Rapp, take (Y/N) to be your royally wedded wife?”

He turned, licking over his lips, seeing your little nod to him in a promise that it was okay, before Emma was staring up at him hopefully, and Stan was glaring at him like he’d be shot at dawn by a firing squad if he didn’t agree. 

“Yes.”

“Fantastic. (Y/N), do you take Mitch Rapp to be your royally wedded husband?” You rolled your eyes, laughing a little, before nodding your head, and grinning when Emma cheered loudly. 

“I do.”

“Emma, the wedding crowns?” He lifted her up, allowing her to place the green one into his hair and the blue one into your own, fixing them to her liking before Stan was pulling her back down to a regular level, and placing her down on the floor. “Would you like to say it?”

He honestly didn't think he could get any worse, or that he could be any more embarrassed than he already was, but then his daughter's next words came, and he thought he may actually throw up a little bit; “You may now kiss the queen!”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“You may now kiss the queen, Rapp.” Hurley growled at him, and he couldn't believe his mentor was teaming up against him with his own daughter.

“I can’t believe you’re encouraging this in my dau-”

He was cut off with the only action he hadn't been expecting at this moment, his eyes closing as he realized what was happening. Your mouth was pressed to his, a sweet and innocent kiss, pulled in by a handful of his shirt, and he sighed happily into your mouth. Your lips were playing with his delicately, pressing and pulling in soft motions, and he felt like he’d slammed into cloud nine. His hands slipped down to your hips, holding you close to him as he pressed back into you, returning the kiss with everything he had, and feeling like his heart was exploding within his chest. 

It ended way too quickly for his liking, and he chased your lips for a second, pressing another quick peck to your mouth as you smiled at him, before he was opening his eyes, finding you looking just as bashful as he did, as Stan held his hand up for Emma to smash her palm again in a high-five.

Your arms looped around his neck, pulling him in closer, and your lips brushed against the shell of his ear, making a tremor travel along his spine. “I want to go somewhere hot for our honeymoon.”

He was on an all-time high, and he pulled back, catching your lips in a final sweet kiss. “How about for the wedding reception, we have dinner tonight?”

You hummed thoughtfully before a loving expression was finding itself on your face. “Am I dressing up or dressing down?”

He smoothed his hands around to your lower back, pulling you in a little closer. “How about you come over in the comfiest PJs you own, and when you get cold, I can still be a gentleman and give you my jumper?”

“Sounds perfect to me.”

[jjk-anime-horray]

A Call in the Night

Dazai Osamu x reader x Oda Sakunosuke

Series Summary: While Dazai finally gets over the death of his friend and moves on with his life, he has to watch him unnaturally return into the world, and now he has to watch him turn twisted and into everything he hated in a way.

Chapter Summary: The Armed Detective Agency gets a call about an warehouse incident that happened in the middle of the night, and send two detectives to respond to it.

Notice: This fic series is going to have some dark themes in it so be warned, and in this AU Dazai and the reader are members of the armed detective agency, and this is a spiritual successor to “Late Night Tickets, and Meeting Him.” So I recommend reading that first even though you don’t need to. This is going to be a series!

Trigger Warnings: Blood, mentions of extreme violence, and description of illegal activities.

Getting a call about a mandatory and emergency investigation in the middle of the night, to be specific 2:32am, was something no one at the Armed Detective Agency wanted to do. So what's the most logical solution? Draw straws and the two people who draw the shortest are forced to go.

Unfortunately for you, you were one of the two unfortunate souls that drew a short straw. At least the other person who drew the short straw was Dazai Osamu, your coworker but most importantly the first friend you made in this city, so maybe you would be able to get a kick out of the bad situation at hand.

But when the two of you emerged from an alley to meet the crime scene at hand, that would by no means be the case because by the sight of the horror that layed out infront of you two it was enough for the both of you want to hurl.

Crime scene would describe the atrocity in front of as much as the phrases bloodbath and massacre would. No wonder this was an emergency for the ADA there were probably more than 30 people dead killed in various atypical ways.

First walking into the warehouse the most out of the ordinary sight would be a round wooden table with a duffle bag on it, but once someone took a closer look the rest of the ware house was completely empty other than the congealing crimson liquid that was pooling everywhere.

The five chairs around rickety table were matched with four bodies of executives of some sort laid face down on the table or dangling of the chairs.

But the most appalling sight was what was inside the duffle-bag, you were wishing it would be something tame like left behind money, however, much to your displeasure, they where severed off human heads. That by the looks of it were cut off with some sort of serrated knife my the edge markings.

"What are you thinking (Y/N)?" Were the words that Dazai spoke to snap you out of your spiraling train of thought. "I sure as hell am thinking this isn't the way I would have wanted to go."

"I'll have to agree with you on that one, this shit is something right out of a cheesy crime or horror movie.The only thing I can think of is the heads were a message of some kind to the people who were sitting at the table, and either the person at the empty seat with accomplices who killed everyone or are the only survivor, but it could be either. Were you able to identify anyone bodies or do you recognize anyone?"

"I don't recognize anyone, and most of the bodies are too mangled to be identified, but everyone at the table is wearing a customized Rolex, so I suspect that they were all executives of a organization of some kind, probably an illegal on based on all the gun men that were probably guarding the meeting before they got taken out."

"The only lead we have is the Rolex I guess, so Daz, will you take one for reference, we can visit all of the watch makers in the city to try to find out who was the person who commissioned these watches to be made, and then maybe through that we kind find out who the soul survivor was."

"Agreed."

Honestly the two of you would have been a little more playful and chatty if the events that took place tonight weren't so gruesome. The two of you were used to having to see and do brutal things, but Dazai had this gut feeling that this wasn't the typical violent act, and things weren't as the seemed.

The brown eyed detective just wanted to go take a nap after this, which was something you also wanted to do after see all the blood. Deciding to leave the true start to your investigation for a decent time the two of you swiftly communicated with the responders about the potential situation at hand. Then left to go deal with is mess the next day.

Timeskip........

After a horrible night's sleep and about three cups of coffee you were finally able to be semi-functional, so then you decided to grab your partner Dazai after dressing to impress and make for the horrible mood you currently were in from multiple factors. Dazai was even in a worse state than you where, you found him at the trying to convince Kunikida to go on the investigation for him, which was ultimately denied by the blonde haired man. Also leaving you to drag the genius yet idiotic maniac out of the office.

Walking down the streets in-between visiting different watchmakers and jewelers, you noticed some was off each time your boots hit the ridged pavement. In particular something about Dazai, his face was contorted into a being in deep thought, not to be disturbed for any reason. It was so out of character you were going to ask what he was thinking about, but then opted out.

"I know you were going to ask what I was thinking, I am a detective you know." He said his face morphing into one not of deep thought but of cockiness with a smirk. Damn, sometimes you really loved and hated that smirk, but right now you didn't know what to think of it. "I was just thinking of how now I know exactly who made the watches, and where is is for your information."

"Really who would that be? For my information."

"His name is Opāru Shokunin, he's done a lot of custom jewelry for Elise-chan and the port mafia in the past, but recently he's been doing a lot of foreign commissions for gangs and syndicates outside of Japan my word of mouth. When I first saw the watches I was initially reminded of how it looked like his handy work, but since the first three places we've visited were a bust, i'm confident it's him."

"Alright Mr. Mic-cocky, lead the way by all means." You scoughed lightly.

Unfortunately for the two of you, your desired destination was all the way across yokohama, so you had to hail a taxi which you knew you were going to be the one paying or it. The icing on the shitty cake was that you got stuck in rush hour traffic, so, the total time until arrival was three time longer than it should have been. At least you got dibs on the radio choice.

When the two of you arrived at your desired destination you now witnessed a normal looking office building, unfortunately, there was no elevator so the two of you had to work your legs up three flights of stairs to make it to Opāru's workshop.

Before you went in however you whispered to Dazai "how do we know he's even gonna be willing to talk to us?"

"He's going to be willing...."

"Why?"

"Simple you're gonna pay him."

"Um no you're going to pay him because I payed for the cab!"

"Um no."

"Yes!"

"No."

"Yes!"

"You realize I can hear you two bickering right?" was the raspy voice of the man you were looking for that ended your whisper argument. He was actually younger than you expected, about 38, but he looked older than his body by his eyes, the eyes of someone very worn out. Which would explain the smoking. "He's right i'll talk if you pay me, just come in before ya give everyone else a headache."

The two of you swiftly made your way into the working man's shop room. The room was a lot nicer than you thought it would be, and a lot lighter too. The man possessed a very nice view from his wall because his wall was almost completely filled with by windows. Dazai did mention something about the craftsmen liking natural light in the cab on the way here, so it wasn't too surprising and really lightened the room up.

You followed Dazai to the two chairs across from the white tufted sofa that Opāru was already occupying. Then Dazai placed the watch and a thick wad of cash on the coffee table separating the two parties of people.

"Oh, so you're here to ask who paid me to customize this for them? No surprise there they were particularly nasty."

"How where they particularly nasty?"

"I'm pretty sure that they were doing things even nastier than the port mafia, like taking kids of the streets and shipping them off."

"So, supposedly by word of mouth were human traffickers."

" Yeah, supposedly, but I didn't ask when the guy approached me."

"The guy?" You reconfirmed.

"Yeah, the guy, he had this weird tattoo on his wrist. The guy's name was Zinnnnnng, THUMP.

The two of you didn't even have time to blink or create when the bullet zipped through the head of the craftsman from. The crimson liquid from his head pooling on the couch were he was just alive a few seconds ago. The blood seeping into the fabric like the disparity of situation into Dazai and yourself.

Glimpsing out middle window now tainted with a hole you see the silhouette of the person responsible for this.

Dashing up without a second thought you sprint to pursue the culprit of the murder that just took place infront of you. Eyeing your target through the broken window.

Ahhhhhhh! Okay I’m literally really proud of how this came out! I’m really hope people like it. I’m really new to writing full fanics so if any experienced writer is reading this will you please give some pointers, that would be very helpful!

-Ellie

[honey-dewey]

Rodeo Romeo and Agent Juliet

Pairing: Jack ‘Whiskey’ Daniels/Kingsman Reader

Word Count: 2,118

Warnings: None

Permanent Taglist: @phoenixhalliwell

Jack was never a fan of classic literature, but when Agent Juliet comes in from Kingsman for the annual Statesman Holiday Gala and immediately calls him the ‘Rodeo Romeo,’ he may be a little bit, okay a lot, in love with the totally off limits woman. What he doesn’t know is that darling Agent Juliet is just as deep in it for her beautiful Rodeo Romeo. Expect many references to Shakespeare, and I promise no one dies at the end.

Author’s Notes: Based off a wonderful post by @pedrocentric that cursed me into writing 2,000 words in a day. I love you for the stab of inspiration I was given. 

The Statesman annual holiday gala was, in Jack’s words, a fancy pain in the ass. It was an excuse to get dressed up and horribly drunk, and while he knew his night would end in some beautiful woman’s bed, he didn’t want to go through the actual gala to get there. 

“This is bullshit,” he decided firmly, adjusting his hat and mask. Every year, the gala had a theme, usually pretty vague so people could get creative. This year, the theme was masquerade. Jack, at Ginger’s request, was wearing his usual tuxedo that he wore to every gala, his hat, and a gorgeous black mask with intricate silver details. It was a pain in the ass, but he had to admit, the mask made him look really good. 

“I know,” Ginger reassured, tying her own delicate golden mask. “But as two of the more involved agents, we have to attend.” 

Jack sighed. “Anyone new attending this year, or will it be a familiar crowd?” 

Ginger reached over his chest and readjusted his bow tie. “Kingsman is coming. Eggsy, Harry, and I think they’re bringing a new agent. Agent Juliet? They’re rebranding to have classic literature names instead of Arthurian legend names. Something about inclusivity, I think.” 

“Yeah well,” Jack mumbled. “I was never a fan of classic literature.” 

They left the room together, ready for the music and the lights of the party. It was a bit more toned down from last year, with quieter music and gentle lights. Plenty of Statesman agents filtered around, along with some of their business partners. Jack did what he always did at these parties. Started his night off with a glass of whiskey and went right into flirting with some pretty thing in a tight rose colored dress. 

“Heads up,” Ginger said behind him, sliding up to the bar as Jack’s rosey target walked away. “Kingsman’s here.” 

Jack turned, seeing the familiar two Kingsman agents he’d tried to kill. In his defense, he hadn’t been right in the head, and they’d both forgiven him. Apparently holding grudges wasn’t the Kingsman way. 

“Whiskey,” Eggsy greeted as he walked up to the bar. “Fancy seeing you here.” 

“I could say the same about you,” Jack said smoothly. “Who’s the lady?” 

Standing by Eggsy’s side, chatting happily with another woman, was the prettiest lady Jack had ever seen. Delicate features barely hidden behind a midnight blue and silver mask, Jack traced down perfectly shaped lips lined in dusty pink and a beautiful silver necklace that laid across her collarbones perfectly. Her dress was a soft looking midnight blue, all flowing fabrics and cinching at her natural waist with a silver belt. The heart shaped neckline and semi-sheer sleeves lay across her skin in a way that made her look, in a single word, like a goddess. 

“This is Agent Juliet,” Eggsy introduced, nudging Juliet forward. “Jules, this is Agent Whiskey.” 

Juliet scanned Jack from top to bottom, her brows knitting a bit as she thought. 

“Oh!” She finally exclaimed. “Is this the one who couldn’t flirt for shit?” 

Immediately, Jack almost choked on his drink while Eggsy laughed out loud. “Yeah!” He said. “Something like that.” 

Juliet smiled. “From the looks of it, I’d say he’d a regular rodeo Romeo.” 

Just like that, Jack was deeply in love with her. The way the corner of her mouth quirked as she gave him the nickname, the way her hands clasped in front of her, the look she gave him. It was enough to ruin the newly christened Rodeo Romeo. 

“Jules?” An unfamiliar man came up, sliding a hand around Juliet’s waist. “Who’s this?” 

Juliet sighed, a deep and unsatisfied sigh as she shifted the man’s hand off her hip. “Darling, this is Agent Whiskey. Agent, this is my boyfriend, Agent Paris.” 

And with one word, she had broken his heart. Jack drew a breath in, an action that went entirely unnoticed by everyone but Ginger. She put a comforting hand on his arm. “It’s wonderful to meet you Agent Paris. Jack and I are going to see if we can’t find Champ, I’m sure you’ll want to meet him.” 

Jack nodded halfheartedly as she pulled him off. Suddenly, he wasn’t very happy about meeting the new agents. 

———

You sighed, watching Agent Whiskey get dragged away. He seemed so nice, and his brilliant brown eyes were so deep, you could’ve easily gotten lost in them all night. Instead, your boyfriend had to walk up, ruining the moment. 

“Babe,” he said, kissing your neck, much to your disgust. “Want to dance?” 

“No thanks,” you said sourly, hoping he understood your tone as you walked away, heading towards the bathrooms. 

Sliding down the wall, you sighed, adjusting your shoes so they weren’t so tight, and finally abandoning them altogether. 

“Knock knock,” a familiar voice said, knocking on the bathroom door. “Can I come in?” 

Unlocking the door and allowing Eggsy to slide in, you smiled, seeing him holding two drinks. Accepting one and immediately swallowing down the soda sweetened liquid, you collapsed back against the wall. “Fuck me Eggsy, I hate him.” 

“So break up with him,” Eggsy said plainly, joining you on the floor. “You’re an adult. Tell him he sucks complete ass and run right into the strong and manly arms of your cowboy Romeo.” 

You punched his arm playfully. “Firstly,” you said. “It’s rodeo Romeo. And secondly, I am not in love with Agent Whiskey.” 

Eggsy raised an eyebrow at you. “Yes. You are.” 

“Am not.” 

“Are to.” 

You burst into laughter. “We sound like children,” you realized. “What was in that drink?” 

“A bit of whiskey, some coke, a few ice cubes,” Eggsy recited. “Now go get your man.” 

Rolling your eyes, you stood and smiled. “Maybe I will.” 

You headed off to the balcony, intent on clearing your head. It was barren, the cold weather deterring most from braving the outside. You sighed, leaning against the railing and looking out at Statesman’s garden. It was beautifully kept, with fields of trees you assumed grew fruit in the warmer months. 

A rustling broke you out of your thoughts. Looking down, you saw Jack wandering the gardens, his mask still on. He looked up, seeing you and smiling. “Ain’t this like, a big part of your story?” He asked. 

You nodded. “Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?” You said, leaning over so you could see Jack better. “She’s wondering why he has his name, because that is the only thing preventing their relationship.” 

“Yeah I was never into Shakespeare.” 

You gasped. “Really? Romeo and Juliet is an undeniable classic! Hold on, I’m coming down, and when I do, you are in for one hell of a literature lesson.” 

Hurrying down the stairs and into the gardens, you met Jack under the balcony. “I cannot believe you’ve never read Romeo and Juliet,” you grumbled to yourself. 

“I never said that,” Jack said. “I’ve read it.” 

You smiled, following his aimlessly wandering feet. “It was Shakespear’s greatest comedy, a work of absolute genius.” 

“Back up,” Jack interrupted. “Comedy?” 

“Yeah, comedy,” you said. “Shakespeare was incredibly, well, I don’t want to say he was anti-love, but he wrote Romeo and Juliet to poke fun at couples who said they were soulmates. After all, Romeo and Juliet spanned about three days time from start to finish.” 

You continued to go into detail about the intricacies of Shakespeare, wasting away a good portion of the night. Jack was an excellent listener, occasionally asking a question that sent you on a tangent, but always quiet and respectful while you talked. 

Finally, when the clock tolled twelve, you two headed back to the gala. 

“It was nice getting to know you,” you said softly, not wanting to enter the building again. “Agent Paris is kind of a jerk about me talking to other men.” 

“Oh my god, is there any redeeming thing about him?” Jack asked. 

“Not that I can tell.” 

Jack took your hands. “So break up with him. Find a man who’ll treat you right.” 

You stared deep into his eyes, into the depth and complexities he kept hidden behind a deceptively simple brown color. “A man like you?” 

Jack didn’t respond. Instead, he cupped your cheek and kissed you, molding his face to yours and satisfying that craving that had building in you since Paris. 

“Jules?” 

Jack broke away, sliding out of sight so quickly you had to wonder if you’d only imagined him. Eggsy came up to you, confused and a bit concerned. “Jules? Are you okay?” 

You nodded slowly. “Yeah. Never better.” 

That night, you tossed and turned, unable to sleep. The ghost of Jack’s lips kept waking you, until you were forced to pull a robe on and open your balcony so you could get some fresh air and hopefully clear your head. 

Settling on the stone and leaning your forehead against the railing, you stared out into the Statesman stables. “Romeo, Romeo,” you said, mostly to yourself as a comfort. “Wherefore art thou Romeo? Deny thy father and refuse thy name. Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love, and I'll no longer be a Capulet.” You had memorized large portions of the story in order to keep yourself calm during Kingsman training, and even now, the familiar passage eased your troubles.

At least, until someone responded. 

“I take thee at thy word. Call me but love, and I'll be new baptized. Henceforth I never will be Romeo.” 

You stood, looking out at the stables. Standing there, lit by the light of his phone, was Jack.  

“Are you reading that off your phone?” You asked, a laugh bubbling in your throat. 

“You’re getting the lines wrong!” Jack called back, coming closer so you could hear him properly. 

Laughing, you leaned against the railing and stared at Jack. “You kissed me earlier.” 

“You’re still getting the lines wrong.” 

“Jack!” You said happily, unable to not laugh. “I’m serious!” 

Jack’s grin was obvious even from your distance. “I did kiss you earlier. Are you mad about it?” 

“No.” 

“So shall we make love like your namesake?” He asked. “Run away and get married after having known each other, what, a few hours?” 

You shook your head. “No. Because then we’d both have to die.” 

Stepping closer, Jack shrugged. “Yeah, that would throw a wrench in my plans to woo and marry you.” 

You yawned, and Jack smiled. “Does the lady need her beauty sleep?” 

You gave him a very ladylike middle finger. “Goodnight Romeo.” 

“Goodnight my fair Juliet.” 

The next morning, you went out for a walk with Eggsy and Paris, walking by the stables and admiring the horses. 

“Juliet!” 

You turned, seeing Jack atop a beautiful black horse. He rode with ease, as if he’d been doing it all his life. “Fancy seein’ you here,” he said. “Y’all sticking around?” 

Eggsy shrugged. “Jules wanted to stay for a bit. Airplanes make her wonky, so we’re leaving later tonight.” 

Jack’s face visibly fell. “Aw damn. I liked having a beauty like you walkin’ around.”!

“Leave off,” Paris said, wrapping you in his arms. “She’s taken.”

“Might wanna reconsider that one,” Jack said with a wink. “What’d’ya say Juliet? Wanna take a ride with your Rodeo Romeo? Saddle’s got room for two.” 

You didn’t even hesitate. Squirming out of Paris’s grip, you eagerly jumped the fence and joined Jack. “Just as long as we don’t die at the end.” 

Jack helped you up in the saddle, kissing you long and hard. “Well, like I said, I’m not one for the original story anyway.” 

He rode off with you, leaving Paris and Eggsy behind. Holding you tight as he jumped a fence, he continued out, beyond the orchards and the buildings, until you two had reached a small, run down church. 

After helping you off the horse, Jack pulled you inside, where there was light and warmth. 

“You’re really not helping our horribly cliche love story,” you said.

Jack raised an eyebrow, pulling you down onto a couch and wrapping you in his arms. “Am I? It’s been such a long time since I read Romeo and Juliet.” 

You laughed. “Clearly. Although this is very close to the part where they both die.” 

“And we definitely aren’t doing that, right?” 

You nodded. “Definitely not.” 

Jack looked around. “One day,” he said decisively. “I’m going to marry you. Right here, in this church. I promise.” 

Smiling, you pressed a kiss to his nose. “Sure you will Romeo.” 

Three years later, he asked you to marry him. 

You, as if it were any question at all, said yes. 

After all, how could you say no to your Romeo?

[ichorizaki]

candle light | k.s.

#PAIRING.  kita shinsuke x gn!reader #GENRE.  fluff #WORDCOUNT.  1.5k #SYNOPSIS.  you have an early christmas dinner with your boyfriend and some of his team members.

✎  author's note is at the bottom of the piece.

Having an early Christmas dinner with some of the members of Inarizaki’s volleyball club was as chaotic as you had expected it to be. The Miya twins were fighting over the remote control on the couch, bickering about which movie to play. Kita, Aran and yourself were busy in the kitchen heating up the food that everyone had brought along with them. Suna was egging on the twins, with Akagi and Ginjima laughing as they watched from the sidelines. Everyone on the team was so busy with their own families in preparation for the merry season so it was a surprise that there was a handful that turned up, anyway. Aran was the host that year like all the years before, seeing how his parents were busy even two weeks before Christmas. Now for him and the twins, it had become some sort of tradition among the three of them.

“Akagi, if I have to hear ‘All I Want for Christmas is You’ one more time, I’m gonna lose it, I tell ya!” Atsumu yelled from the couch. You heard some more bickering between the four of them in the living room and you all but sighed heavily while checking the strength of the flame on the stove. They were an absolute handful, you knew that, but for some reason it just dawned upon you that their family members had to deal with that almost every day.

“I don’t care, I’m playing Mariah Carey,” Akagi drawled. The music got just a tad bit louder and you could only assume that he had increased the volume of the stereo in a childish attempt to spite the setter. Of course he would.

“Oi Tsumu, play The Nightmare Before Christmas, ya piece’a trash!” The grey-haired twin barked, battling once again for control over the remote. Atsumu was complaining about the alleged poor taste of movies, claiming that he’s always had the better taste in movies and therefore should be the rightful bearer of the remote for the time being. “I don’t care what you say, The Nightmare Before Christmas works for Christmas and Halloween, so suck it up!”

“What are they even fighting about?” A sigh left your lips, the question not directed to anybody in particular in the kitchen. Aran was mixing the tea while your boyfriend, Kita, stirred the soup broth that Suna had brought.

“Lord knows at this point.” While Kita’s words were but a mumble under his breath, you heard them clearly and it elicited a soft laugh from you. “Thanks for coming, by the way.” You turned to him, raising an eyebrow as you stirred the fried rice carefully to make sure that it’s heated up evenly for consumption.

“Kita, there’s no need to thank me. This is exactly what I need before I spend a week with my relatives.” Your eyes flit back to the pot, your grip on the handle tightening.

“You need a headache before dealing with another headache?” Aran appeared to your side and you elbowed him gently. Silence befell the three of you before erupting into calm laughter. It’s a lovely dynamic that the three of you have, being dubbed the parental figures since the three of you are the most reliable out of everyone else on the team. “It all smells great, I think we can start setting up the table now.”

“I don’t trust the twins with the glassware,” Kita sighed. The taller male was quick to react to that with a short laugh. “Maybe get Ginjima, he looks like he’s a heartbeat away from selling his soul to Satan.”

While Kita busied himself with summoning a helping hand to set up the table, you began scooping the soup into a shared serving bowl as Aran worked on delivering the main dishes to the table. Commotion and clamouring of excitement blurred with the cavalier brashness of the twins’ language as everyone began to take their seats. Only when you were done did you finally join everyone else, seated right in between Aran and Kita as always.

“Thank you for the food!” The sheer volume of the boys were enough to shake even the liquids on the table, a force of habit from their on-court shenanigans and cheers as a team. If just this handful was enough to make you sit back and take a breather, you couldn’t imagine the entirety of the team. Everyone began digging in with Kita and Aran being the ones to help with the servings while you helped with pouring the iced tea into everyone’s glasses.

“Y/N, do you want some beef?” Your boyfriend was quick to attend to you as soon as he was done with his teammates and you muttered a thank you to Aran who served you some of the fried rice. Turning with the intention to look at what Kita was referring to, you were met with his earthen eyes that just seemed to soften every time he looked at you. A smile graced your features upon finally registering that he was referring to the stir-fried beef that Akagi’s mom had made him bring along to the dinner party.

“Sure, Kita.” He was careful in the way that he gave you a spoonful of the side dish, making sure that you were happy with the amount by looking at you and gauging your reactions. “Thank you, my love.” While his smiles were rare, they never were with you. Moments as such elicited the gentlest of a smile to blossom on his face. He leans forward to give you a quick peck on the cheek.

Dinner went as swimmingly as it could with the twins’ constant bickering over who gets the remaining share of which food. Sometimes Suna would be the perpetrator and steal from Osamu’s plate from where he had strategically sat down to his left while his twin was on his right. Even after that and it was time to clean the dishes, Ginjima was the one who had volunteered his hand to help out so you, Kita and Aran could catch a break. He had dragged Osamu along with him as well as Akagi and Suna so that the twins could catch a break from each even if it was just for a mere fifteen minutes.

You were cuddled up to Kita on the couch, his arm slung over your shoulders and your own hands playing with his free hand on your laps. You weren’t exactly paying much attention to what was being shown on the television and you were sure that neither was your boyfriend for his piercing gaze was on you the entire time. His attention was far on something nearer to him and it was you. Turning your gaze and attention onto him, he was already looking back at you with that shy smile of his.

“Hey, you,” he chuckled. You rolled your eyes, the smile on your face growing bigger by the second and you pressed your lips to his. “And to what do I owe the pleasure?” He was chasing after your own lips for a second kiss but caught himself before he got lost in your everything. That was just the magic of you, always reeling him in with your beauty and that stunning smile of yours; everything about you was but a never-ending bliss that he felt privileged to be able to call you his.

“You’re just the best boyfriend in the world.” His smile only grew wider at your words that tasted sweeter than the honey his grandmother had harvested earlier that week back at the family farm.

“We should do this again sometime soon,” you suggested. He hummed in response, the calloused hand that was cradled by your own soft ones reaching up to brush the hair from your face.

“With the team?” He offered, and you playfully smacked his chest.

“Just us two, silly.” Kita’s gaze fell upon your face, wandering all over until he met your eyes once again.

“Sounds good to me. I’ll cook whatever you want.”

Thus with the promise of a dinner date sometime that week, you sidled up to him and got comfortable in your position on the couch. The ones who got dragged into cleaning the dishes were finally done and have hijacked the couch, jumping into the empty space and fighting for an optimal seat where they could see the television properly. Atsumu was unfortunately banished to the floor with Akagi, resorting to sitting on seat cushions while Aran decided on what movie to watch.

Even with the rowdiness of the volleyball players around you, you were completely at peace in your own little bubble at the far end of the couch with your boyfriend. In a way, he’s the only salvation left for you before you have to spend an entire week with your family, immediate relatives included. You wouldn’t have had it any other way. He may just be a candle light in your otherwise dull life, but he shone brighter than any star and sun in the universe and you couldn’t be more thankful to have such a wonderful man be yours.

���💌꒱ A LETTER FROM SOL!

HI TWIN @shxnosuke​ BAE BRO !!!! I’M YOUR SECRET SANTA !!!!!! bro do you have any idea how excited i was when i got your name bro ???? i was over the moon bro i love you so much bro. i hope i did kita justice for you bro, i love you bro. also thank you so much to my sweet baby nikki @lettrespromises​ for beta-ing it and reassuring me, i love you so much<3

[silversatoru]

hot chocolate

megumi x yuuji 

synopsis: megumi’s days get a little less boring when yuuji starts stopping by his coffee shop 

tags/warnings: fluff, college au!, coffee shop au!, characters are aged up, making out, swearing

word count: 3780

The whipped cream bottle whizzed and sputtered, the scarce remains of its contents flying all over the counter. Megumi stifled a few cuss words under his breath, silently cursing whoever finished the whipped cream and didn't replace it with a new one. He tossed it in the garbage and drug himself into the back of the shop in search of a fresh bottle. He was only two hours into his shift at his university's coffee shop, but it had easily been the longest two hours of his life. Midterms were this week, meaning every student on campus was stopping by for some extra caffeine to get through their day.

When he finally returned with his new container of whipped cream, the line of students had nearly doubled — what a hassle. He threw a quick, fluffy spiral of cream onto the drink he'd been working on and gave it to the customer, apologizing for the wait. He shoved the money into the old cash register and handed them their change, a small sigh leaving his lips as the next customer approached.

It was an athletic looking boy with pink spiky hair and a round face. He wore a baggy sweatshirt and sweatpants, and his rose-colored hair looked as if he had just rolled out of bed. Megumi didn't recognize him, which was weird because he had a knack for memorizing the faces of every student who walked in and out of the shop.

"Hi, what can I get for you today?" Megumi spoke in his signature monotone voice, too tired to add any customer service flare.

"I'm not sure," The boy stared up at the menu with a terribly confused expression on his face.

"What do you mean you're not sure?" Megumi stared at the boy like he had two heads — he'd been waiting in line for at least ten minutes and he still hadn't decided?

"Well, I don't actually like coffee. So, I'm not sure what to get," he stated bluntly.

"If you don't like coffee, why did you come to a coffee shop. We literally only sell coffee," Megumi deadpanned.

"Well, I want to try and force myself like coffee — acquire the taste, you know? For the caffeine and stuff. Maybe you could recommend me a drink?"

"Uh... yeah sure. I'll just make you what I usually get," Megumi had to forcibly stop himself from rolling his eyes at the customer.

"Okay, great!" The pink-haired student called after him as he walked over to the array of coffee machines.

Megumi grabbed a cup for hot beverages, sliding it under the latte machine and filling the it with the warm brown liquid. He stirred in some oat milk and a drizzle of honey before topping it off with a layer of cream. He made his way back over to the peculiar customer and carefully handed him the drink.

"It's a honey oat milk latte," Megumi stated plainly.

"I'm not even sure what a latte is, but thank you!" His lips twisted into a toothy smile as he handed Megumi his debit card.

The dark-haired boy swiped his card through then machine and finished the transaction before returning it to the boy, "Have a nice day".

"Thanks, you too! My name is Itadori Yuuji by the way, it was nice to meet you...," he squinted his eyes in attempt to read Megumi's name badge, "Fushiguro! That's a cool name".

"Uh, thanks. I have to help the next customer now," Megumi rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly — this whole interaction was so weird.

"Oh, right. Thank you again!" He called out as he turned and left the shop.

Megumi found it impossibly hard to concentrate on his job after that. For some reason his mind was consumed by his interaction with Itadori Yuuji — the peculiar pink-haired student. He found himself still thinking about it later that night, even after working all morning and attending classes all afternoon. No amount of school work was able to distract his mind from this stupid new boy.

When he woke up the next morning and slipped on his apron before heading to work, he wondered if the pink-haired boy would be back again today. He searched all morning for a head of fluffy pink hair amongst the hoards of students, but he never came.

Around ten o'clock the coffee shop always dies down, as all the students and teachers are in class. Megumi leaned back against the counter and pulled out his phone, mindlessly scrolling through twitter while he waited for a customer to show up.

The golden bells hanging from the front door emitted a soft ringing sound, signaling that someone had entered the shop. Megumi looked up to see a baggy sweatshirt and messy pink hair, and for some reason his heart jumped.

"Hey, Fushiguro!" Yuuji's face was plastered with a bright smile.

Megumi scrunched up his nose, it was weird for the boy to call him by his name — they didn't even know each other.

"Hey, how was the honey oat milk latte?" Megumi slid his phone back into his pocket and approached the counter.

"Oh, it was terrible. Fucking awful, actually," Yuuji's faced scrunched up in horror as he reminisced on the atrociously bitter flavor.

Megumi was genuinely offended. Yuuji could have told him he was the ugliest person he'd ever seen, that he had the personality of a brick wall, but to insult his coffee? That was crossing a line. Megumi knew his coffee-making skills were impeccable.

"Excuse me?" Was all he could manage.

"Yeah, it was probably one of the worst things I've ever put in my mouth. Anyway, I was hoping to try something different today," Yuuji said nonchalantly, his hands resting comfortably in the pocket of his hoodie.

"Okay..." Megumi took a deep breath, trying desperately to keep his cool, "What would you like to try?"

"Could you just make something for me again? I really don't know what to order".

"But you hated my last recommendation," Megumi stared at him blankly.

"Yeah... but eventually you'll have to make something I like," Yuuji insisted.

Megumi grumbled a quick "alright" and headed back over to the machinery, searching his mind for a recipe Yuuji might like. Eventually, he decided on a caramel macchiato — everyone likes those. He handed Yuuji the drink and the pink haired boy quickly payed before leaving the shop again.

Megumi watched him as he walked past the coffee shop windows and took a sip of his drink. The pink haired boy's face twisted with disgust, and he looked like he could barely keep the liquid down. He immediately took another sip, his body having the exact same reaction as the first time. Megumi let out a heavy sigh, shaking his head as he watched that absolute idiot until he could no longer see him.

He continued to refer to Yuuji as stupid, weird, or annoying, but that was completely contradictory to the fact that he couldn't get the pink-haired boy out of his mind. He found himself wondering if he would come back again for a third time, and if he did, what drink would Megumi make him? A small part of him was getting invested in this outlandish journey of finding a drink that Yuuji actually liked.

That night Megumi had a revelation — maybe hot coffee just wasn't Yuuji's thing. He decided that tomorrow he'd make him something cold, that was sure to work.

So, when the third day rolled around and Yuuji's messy pink hair came waltzing into the campus coffee shop, Megumi made him an iced cinnamon dolce latte. This time though, Yuuji followed him over to the array of coffee machines, asking him questions about how coffee was made. Megumi found himself explaining the entire process, from how the coffee is brewed to what sweeteners and creams he was adding to this particular beverage. He was honestly appalled by his own actions, he would never put in this kind of effort for any of his other customers — so what made Yuuji so different?

"So, what's your major?" Yuuji questioned while Megumi dusted some cinnamon over the top of his drink.

"Biology with a minor in veterinary technology," Megumi answered without looking up at him, snapping the plastic lid onto the coffee cup.

"Ohhh somebody's smart," Yuuji mused, "Animals, huh?"

"Yeah, they don't talk as much as people do," Megumi said, only half-joking.

"Right? People can be so annoying sometimes," Yuuji shook his head.

Megumi found his lips cracking into the tiniest smile — how ironic and blissfully unaware this boy was. He seemed to truly live life without a care in the world.

"What's yours?" Megumi asked, finally stretching out his arm and handing the pink-haired boy his iced coffee.

"Oh, sports med," Yuuji responded, his nose scrunching up as he took the first sip of his drink.

That answer didn't surprise Megumi at all, given the boy's athletic physique it was obvious he was into that sort of thing. The poor reaction to Megumi's coffee didn't surprise him either — this endeavor to find him a drink he likes is proving to be futile.

"Not good?"

"So bad," Yuuji shook his head, his eyes filled with despair and disgust, "We'll find one eventually though!"

"Maybe," Megumi didn't know it, but his face softened when he talked to Yuuji, his shoulders fell and his jaw unclenched.

There was so something so simple and calming about conversing with that strange boy.

"Well, thanks anyway! See you tomorrow Fushiguro!" His voice rung out through the shop — he really had no volume control when he spoke.

Megumi found himself watching Yuuji through the windows until he could no longer see him again —this was becoming a bad habit.

When the rush of students on their way to morning classes finally died down, one of his coworkers approached him.

"Sweet cream?" The boy questioned him, one of his eyebrows raised in suspicion.

His coworkers name was Inumaki Toge, and he was deaf and mute — selectively mute, anyway. He only communicated in words related to coffee, which was entirely too strange for most people, but Megumi didn't mind.

The two of them had been friends since Megumi first got this job two years ago. They'd even created their own communication system — Toge would talk in coffee terms, which translated to certain things that really only Megumi understood. Then, the dark-haired boy would respond in sign language, a skill he learned just so he could talk to the boy. It broke his stone-cold heart when he first started working here and saw Toge was always alone in the back of the shop. Most students didn't have the time or energy to learn a whole new language for the sake of someone they didn't know, but Megumi decided to put in the effort.

Megumi rolled his eyes, signing that no, he and the pink-haired boy were not friends.

"Americano," Toge furiously crossed his arms over his chest, accusing Megumi of lying to him.

I'm not lying! He's been coming here the past few days for coffee. I don't know why he talks to me so much, Megumi quickly signed back, his eyes narrowed at the white-haired boy.

Toge rolled his eyes at him in the hardest, most exaggerated way possible.

He's just a customer Toge, don't look at me like that, Megumi folded his fingers into the different signs, his frustration towards the mute boy growing.

"Espresso," Toge mumbled under his breath, twisting and returning to his spot at the back of the shop where would grind coffee beans and restock their shelves.

What? You're out of your fucking mind Toge. I do not like him, he's just a regular customer, Megumi angrily signed at him, but it was to no use, as the deaf boy had already turned around and was paying him no mind.

Their conversation lingered in his head for the remainder of the day though, because maybe Toge was onto something. Megumi was terrified to admit it, but Yuuji's daily visits had quickly become the best part of his day, even if he was kind of annoying.

And it continued to be the best part of his day for the next few weeks. Yuuji would come to the shop everyday and they would make pointless small talk while Megumi brewed him new drinks to try. Not a single one ever suited his palate, but he continued to return none the less. His motives were becoming questionable at this point — was he still coming for the coffee, or had this turned into something much bigger?

So, when winter break was right around the corner, and the last day of classes began, Megumi wondered what his days would be like when he didn't have their daily interactions to look forward to.

It was especially snowy today — enough to dust the ground and freeze the air, but not enough for classes to get canceled. Bundled students trudged in and out of the shop, buying coffees and hot chocolates in attempt to keep themselves warm. Their was an excited energy in the air though, it seemed everyone was thrilled for fall semester to be over — everyone except Megumi.

His heart skipped a few beats when Yuuji's familiar soft face appeared in the door.

"Hey, Megumi!" He called out, waving his had furiously through the air.

Somehow they had transitioned to a first name basis about a week ago — the dark-haired boy wasn't even sure how it happened but he certainty didn't mind it.

"Hey, you want something warm or cold today?"

"Definitely warm," Yuuji answered quickly, a shiver coursing its way through his body.

Megumi nodded, getting to work on something that he was sure Yuuji would like.

"Are you visiting family over break?" Yuuji wasted no time addressing their winter-break dilemma.

"No," Megumi shrugged his shoulders, he was one of the very few students who never went home on holidays.

"No family to visit. I live in an off-campus apartment so I just stay here over breaks".

Megumi expected Yuuji to frown, maybe even show him some pity for his unfortunate situation, but he did the complete opposite instead. He lips spread into the widest smile, and he swore he saw him jump in excitement.

"Me too! I used to visit my grandfather, but he died a couple years ago. My holidays have been pretty lonely".

Megumi looked up at him, a bewildered expression on his face. Who could have known that someone as cheerful as Yuuji was carrying such a burden?

"Where do you live? Maybe we could hang out over break," the pink-haired boy cocked his head to the side.

"Second street," Megumi answered, filling Yuuji's cup with steaming brown liquid.

He certainly wasn't opposed to the idea of seeing Yuuji more often, but it scared him just as much as it excited him.

"I live on Third! I can't believe we haven't run into each other before," Yuuji gasped.

Megumi wordlessly finished up the hot drink, subtly scribbling his address and his phone number onto the coffee label while the other boy blabbed on about how close they lived. When he was done he held it out to him, the pink-haired boy reaching out with his mitten-covered hands to take the drink.

He took a small sip and his eyes sparkled like they held the stars inside of them.

"This is so good! What kind is it?" Yuuji asked, eagerly taking another sip and inevitably burning his tongue on the hot beverage.

"Hot chocolate," Megumi spoke plainly, "I've come to the conclusion that it's impossible for you to like coffee".

"You're probably right," Yuuji nodded, "I think I'm more of a hot chocolate guy".

"No, you're a child with immature taste in drinks," Megumi scrunched up his nose.

Yuuji faked offense, and then held up his hand and attempted to flip Megumi off through his mitten — but it didn't really work.

That's when he noticed the dark-haired boy's phone number and address scribbled on the side of his cup. A light blush dusted over his cheeks and he offered Megumi a warm smile.

"I'll see you around!" He called.

A thousand butterflies flew around Megumi's stomach as he watched the boy leave and walk down the snowy sidewalk. What the hell kind of cheesy hallmark movie was his life turning into?

"Americano," Toge's accusatory voice shook Megumi out of his trance.

Okay fine, maybe I'm a liar. Fuck off, Megumi signed at him, to which the deaf boy chuckled to himself.

                                                             ☃

It was Christmas Eve now, and classes had ended a few days ago. Megumi checked his phone obsessively, but a text from Yuuji never appeared. He started to doubt that the boy actually meant what he said about wanting to hang out — maybe he was just being nice and Megumi had taken it the wrong way. He couldn't help but feel disappointed, no matter how much he wished he didn't care. He'd even taken a container of the coffee shops' hot chocolate powder for Yuuji. He planned on gifting it to him, because he had liked it so much.

So, when six o'clock at night rolled around and there was still no sign of the cheery pink-haired boy, he felt his heart squeeze in his chest. Who knew he was so invested in this idiot?

A light knock on his front door pulled him out of his thoughts, and his heart leaped into his throat. He peered through the small peep hole of his door and euphoria spread through his body — the stupid, spiky-haired boy had finally arrived.

He opened the door and Yuuji immediately blushed, his eyes wide as he looked around Megumi's apartment.

"Hi," He squeaked, "Sorry I didn't text or anything".

"It's okay," He ushered the boy inside and closed the door behind him.

"I stopped at a convenience store and bought some cookie dough. I thought we could make them, since yanno, it's a Christmas Eve thing".

Megumi found his own cheeks get warm at the other boy's forwardness. Baking cookies felt so familial, not like something you'd do with a coffee shop acquaintance. But none the less, he nodded his head and guided Yuuji into the kitchen.

The awkwardness between them quickly melted away as they rolled out the dough and attempted to cut out fun Christmas-themed shapes. Megumi chewed on his bottom lip as he focused on the intricate snowflake cookie was trying to make, his perfectionism getting way too involved. Yuuji on the other hand held up a half-smushed blob with a few spikes coming out of the top and two holes punched through the middle.

"It's you!" he laughed, holding his monstrosity of a cookie up for Megumi to see.

The dark-haired boy scoffed, "That's terrible, it looks nothing like me".

"Sorry, Mr. I'm smart and good at art. Are you sure you're not a sculpting student or something?" Yuuji stuck his nose in the air, carefully placing his Megumi cookie on the greased metal tray.

They each cut out a couple more shapes before the oven let out a loud ding to let them know it was preheated. Megumi picked up the tray and shuffled over to the oven, carefully placing it on the top rack. He closed the door before standing up and turning around — bumping right into Yuuji, who for some reason was standing right behind him. They were the exact same height, so Megumi's nose practically slammed into Yuuji's. He blushed furiously, quickly backing up into the counter.

"Sorry," he mumbled a quick apology, though Yuuji had been the one standing right behind him, so maybe he should apologize.

"Can I ask you a question?" Yuuji cocked his head to the side, completely ignoring Megumi's apology.

"Sure?" Megumi gave him a confused look.

"This is more than just two coffee shop friends hanging out, right? You can kick me out if I'm wrong, but if I'm right, I'd really like to kiss you while those cookies bake".

Megumi's eyes widened, his heart thumping hard against the walls of his chest. Of course he wanted to kiss Yuuji, he'd wanted to for weeks — it was all he thought about while he brewed him his stupid coffees everyday.

"Yeah... yeah, you're right," Megumi nodded, those few words were all that he could manage.

That clarification was all that Yuuji needed, a soft smile blossoming on his face before he stepped forward and cupped his fingers around the back of Megumi's neck. Heat spread through his face as their lips collided, every other one of his senses fading away as his body honed in on Yuuji's touch.

He'd been kissed before, several times by both men and women — but none of them compared to this. None of them were this gentle, soft, and electrifying all at the same time. Yuuji's fingers curled into the base of Megumi's hair, and he found his own hands tracing up the sides of the others' torso. He was completely drowning in the ocean that was Yuuji's lips, his mind growing foggy. He'd imagined what this would be like far too many times, but never once did he think it would be this good.

The ten minute timer Megumi had set on the oven started blaring through the kitchen, and he couldn't believe it had been that long already. A soft sigh escaped his throat as Yuuji pulled away, a smile tugging at the other's lips.

"I didn't expect so much experience from the quiet coffee barista," Yuuji poked at him, his eyes glistening with a fire that hadn't been there before.

"Don't judge a book by its cover, I guess," Megumi shrugged, grabbing his oven mitt and pulling the cookies out of the oven.

The pink-haired boy let out a light chuckle, immediately trying to grab a cookie off the metal sheet. Megumi swatted his hand away, insisting that the cookies would be too hot eat right away.

Megumi found his lips intertwined with Yuuji's again after setting down the tray — after all they'd have to pass the time while the cookies cooled somehow.

And so for the first time in a long time, Megumi didn't spend Christmas alone. Rather, he spent it with an overly-cheerful pink-haired boy who became a ray of sunshine in his life of clouds. Though he wished he liked his coffee, Megumi had no problem with brewing him hot chocolate instead. And he did, every morning for the rest of the spring semester he always had a cup of hot chocolate ready for Yuuji. He'd even stopped charging him for it at this point, throwing on a free drink discount every time he came.

[klaus-is-the-real-number-1]

you know what, let’s turn the angst up, some hc’s/ a borederline fic but in bullet points based off some tags i wrote on this ask which expands on the last point of this post which is based off this post (yeah i know,, its a lot off cross reference but !!!!)

to summarise points from the previous posts: s3 introducing an evil five, who convinces the hargreeves siblings that he is their five, causing them to turn on actual five, breaking his heart and causing the apocalypse. 

Somehow evil five convinces the siblings that hes their five, hes cool, calm and collected while actual five is frantic, the ever expanding fear of losing his family dawning on him causing him to panic.

this being unlike five, or at least his siblings thinking its not like him to be manic, believing evil five that actual five is merely an imposter

so evil five gives them a plan, dont let five know that they think he isnt their brother, then either luther will knock him out, or do what he did for vanya, get him unconscious and easy to move

then lock him up in one of reginalds many chambers that they were more than aware of

 So thats what they did

luther greeting five “its okay buddy, we know youre our brother” he says, giving Five the first hug he had received in 60 years

only to have his windpipes crushed, struggling against his brother who he loves ever so dearly until he passes out, tears filling his eyes as he realised, they dont believe him

he wakes up in a dark padded room, the small glass window on the door showing the glum faces of his siblings, just staring at him

in a state of desperation hed slam himself against the glass, begging them to see through evil fives facade but they dont

they just watch him as in his stressed state his powers fail on him

and then his siblings who he has killed for leave him, locked up, theyve betrayed him

the icing on the cake, evil five turning around just before stepping away and giving Five the most sinister grin and leaving

Fives heart breaks, well and truly, he can’t even think, hes so hurt its numbing, his family who he has seen die 3 times, saved them from two apocalypses, killed for and pushed himself to the limit for, dont even recognise him, cant even tell him apart from a different version of himself

and he cries, but his tears arent liquid, bright blue drops of power seep from his eyes, before turning into streams flowing from him, quickly filling up the room and licking at his skin like flames, it wasnt him who was controlling this, it was someone else but he was too weak to fight it

it takes him over, ripping down the room flowing like a stream

yet his siblings are dealing with their own dramas, evil five taking off his blazer in the car, revealing his ever so bare arms, no tattoo, no scar from removing the tracker, no nothing

klaus whispers over to diego about five having no tattoo and a harrowing feeling wracks through them, they betrayed five, their five, their five who had lived through the apocalypse for them, who had became an assassin just to get back to them, who had killed for them, they betrayed and didn’t believe him

theyd somehow deal with evil five, possibly knocking him out then just, doing something im not too sure yet

then they rush back to five, expecting to find him safe and sound in the academy yet were greeted by screaming civilians running away from town, blue waves crashing through the city

as they got closer to the source of the blue that was ripping apart buildings they expected to see Five fighting it off, only to find fives limp body suspended in the middle

“Please five, we’re sorry!” but he couldn’t hear them

and then he explodes, blue power ripping through buildings, tearing the world apart

and then it slows, speeds up, rewinds then stops

everything is still as five wakes up, heart heavy, seeing everything frozen except for one being, holding a hand out for five to take

saying how he doesnt belong here, he is the child of time after all, even possibly a child of the gods

hes been through so much pain that he doesnt deserve and its time for him to rest, finally leave the pain behind, and five takes this hand

everything starts again, time continues as the siblings look upon the spot where five was, but he was gone, only they seemed to remember the world being torn apart by their brother, everyone around them just going on with their lives

five was gone, he was missing again and it was their fault

they hoped hed come back maybe in a few days, maybe weeks

but as months passed and he didnt come back they realised the damage theyd done

how it couldve all been avoided if theyd just checked for the tattoo, or just listened 

they all drift apart, unable to be in the same room without fighting, pointing the blame at each other for their brothers disappearance

as this was going on, five would be recovering, where he belongs, able to watch over his sibling but unable to be hurt, somewhere where time doesnt pass for him, being able to return when hes ready

when his heart stops hurting

[intoanothermind]

Beauty Queen - Chapter 10

B E A U T Y   Q U E E N

Synopsis: You are the Ice Princess of Narnia during the Long Winter. Your sister Jadis, the White Witch, hates that you’re always helping Narnians escape prision. She decides to hunt you down and you have to run away from the palace. What happens when you find the four humans lost in Narnia?

- Edmund Pevensie x reader

Masterlist

<Chapter 9 | Chapter 11>

(There’s probably a lot of errors, but I just translated real quick because there’s been ages since I updated.)

—-

C H A P T E R   T E N

They walked through the snow that lazily melted. Their footprints showed the path they passed through towards the frozen river. Of course, no one could erase the footprints so the maximum they could do was to speed up the pace so they wouldn't get caught.

“Come on, humans! While we are young!’ yelled Mr. Beaver, who went ahead to show them the way.

“If he rushes us again...” Peter said, bending so Lucy could jump on his back. “I'll make him into a very cute hat.”

Susan let out a quiet laugh.

“Quick! Come on!” cried the Beaver, a few meters in front of others.

“He's getting bossy!” said Lucy.

“No!” cried Mrs. Beaver. ”Look behind you! It's her!”

They looked and saw a few meters away, a carriage that glided easily through the snow. Lucy jumped off Peter's back and they all ran.

“Run!” cried Mr. Beaver.

They heard the reindeer hooves getting closer and closer and knew it wasn’t a good thing. They ran across the snowy field and came to the edge of a forest, where they spotted a small cave between the roots of a tree. They saw the snow fall slightly to his feet only when they saw a big fat shadow walk close to the rock where they were hidden behind. They could see the person's shadow reflected in a snowy dune in front of them. They saw the shadow moving away, almost giving up.

They looked at the dune curiously while the beaver sniffed the air in a desperate manner.

“It seems...” whispered Lucy. “That it’s gone.”

“I better go see it.” said Peter, about to come out of hiding.

“You will not serve Narnia dead.” said the Beaver, turning to the opening.

“And neither do you, old man.” said Mrs. Beaver.

“Thank you darling.”

That being said, the Beaver got out of hide, sniffing and crawling to find out if they were gone or not. There were moments of tension between those present. Suddenly, the beaver appears on the edge of the rock, causing Lucy to cry out.

“Get out! Get out!” said the Beaver. “I hope you’ve been nice, because you have a visitor!” And then left.

They came out of hiding, a little afraid. In front of them was a fat man with a white beard. He wore a wine red cloak over ordinary red.

The man laughed.

“Merry Christmas, sir.” said Lucy, approaching.

“For sure, Lucy.” He said, his voice hoarse. “Ever since you arrived.”

“ Look, I can take a lot of things since I arrived...” Susan said to Peter. “But this!”

“We thought you were the Witch!” interrupted Peter, addressing the man.

“I'm sorry, sorry for the bad way, but I must say that I've been driving one of these for longer than the Witch.” He said, referring to the carriage.

“I thought there was no Christmas in Narnia.” said Susan, also approaching him.

“No.” the man replied. “Not for a long time. But the hope you have brought, Your Majesties... it begins to weaken the Witch' power. However, I dare say you might need these.”

He turned and took a big red bag from the sled .

“Gifts!” said Lucy, excited.

The man opened the bag, revealing boxes, teddy bears and many other things. He took out a small dagger sheath and a flask with a dark liquid.

“The juice of the fire flower.” he said, showing them the vial. “A single drop heals any wound.”

He handed the vial carefully to Lucy, who studied it carefully.

“Although I hope you never use it...” he said, handing her the red scabbard that contained a small dagger.

“Thank you, sir, but...” said Lucy. “I wouldn't be able to not be afraid.”

“I bet you would.” he replied. “But battles are ugly fights.”

Lucy nodded and walked away. The man picked up a basket of arrows with an ornate bow.

“Susan.” and called her and Susan approached. “Trust this bow. It will almost never go wrong.”

Susan took the bow.

“But didn't you say that battles are ugly fights?” she asked.

He laughed.

“Although I have no trouble expressing myself...” he said, showing her a small white trumpet. “blow this, and wherever you are the help will come.”

“Thanks.” she said.

The man turned and took a sheath from a large sword.

“Peter.”

The boy approached, afraid.

“The time to use this may be close.” said the man, handing him a sword and a shield.

Peter drew his sword and they all could see that there was something written on the blade.

“Thank you sir.” said Peter analysing it.

“They're guns, not toys. Use it well and wisely. Now I need to go. Winter is the almost at the end...” he said, turning to the big bag into the sleigh. “and everything accumulates when you disappear for a hundred years.”

He turned to everyone and said, before getting on the sled.

“Long live Aslam! And Merry Christmas!”

And he was gone, while everyone shouted different farewells.

“I said he was real!” said Lucy, turning to Susan.

“He said that winter...” said Pedro. “it's almost over.” and turned concerned to the girls and the beavers. “Didn't you notice?!”

When the girls looked at him confused, he continued.

“No more ice.”

~ * ~

Y/N ran like never before. She heard the howling of the wolves behind her. She could almost be sure that they would surround her from the front too, but didn't have much time left. She could try a spell, but that would only slow them down a bit. She could fight, but there were too many and they would surely defeat her. She needed a more complete plan. Then, while running through the forest, trying to lose them, she finally looked at the trees. Of course! The trees! She could hide in the trees for a while, until she was sure the wolves were far away.

Then, without warning, she brought up an extensive wall of ice in the snow between her and the wolves. And while they were thinking about how to overcome the obstacle, she quickly climbed a tree, a little further away. She used a spell to hide her scent and make it seem like she continued running. When the wolves came around the ice wall, they moved on without noticing Y/N's location. When she was sure that the howls were gone in the distance, she descended from the tree and continued her walk towards the frozen river. She knew that there would be the best way to go towards the Stone Table. She just didn't think she would see a shocking scene before that.

Several meters ahead of her, near the frozen waterfall, was the three Pevensie with the beavers, surrounded by the wolves that chased her on both sides. And their voices were propagated to her.

“Go while you can.” said the wolf, approaching them and forcing them to join closer to the liquid water. “and your sister goes with you.”

“Stop, Peter!” shouted Susan above the noise of the ice breaking. “Better do what he says!”

“Smart girl.” said the wolf.

“Don't believe him!” shouted the beaver, struggling. “Kill him! Kill him now!”

Y/N looked around uneasily. She knew that Maugrin was lying, but wouldn’t be able to reach them time. She would be caught by the wolves before that. But she needed to do something to help them. Next to her there wasn’t much she could use, but then she returned her gaze to the discussion the just a few meters away from the frozen waterfall. The waterfall!

“Oh, please, that war isn’t yours!” Said the wolf, getting closer. “My queen just wants the good of your family and they disappear.”

“Look, just because a man in red handed you a sword, you can’t pretend you’re a hero!” Susana said. “Put it down!”

“No , Peter!” cried the beaver. “Narnia needs you! Kill him while you still have a chance!”

Y/N quickly gathered the snow that was on the banks of the river and transformed it into an bow of ice. She also made some arrows of ice and aimed right at the waterfall, at its weakest point. Ice and snow were her specialty, so even from afar, she could make out the weakest part that had been frozen. She lauched five arrows in that point, which went unnoticed by all.

“How will it be, Son of Adam?” asked the wolf, near Peter's sword. “I won’t wait forever. Neither will the river!”

Y/N threw her bow and arrow in the floor, and it quickly returned to snow. She concentrated on the crack she had made in the waterfall. Melting the ice was far more difficult than forming it, but she always did it anyway. This time, however, instead of helping, the adrenaline was holding her back. Then she gave up trying to melt the ice, she needed to think about something else. And fast.

Lucy looked at the waterfall. It was collapsing.

“Oh no!” She murmured to herself and then shouted. “Peter!”

Y/N then had an idea. She stared at the frozen waterfall, that was starting to crack, and the extended her hands in front of her.

Peter looked desperately for the next safe thing to do.

“Hold on to me!” He shouted.

With a sudden movement, Y/N pulled her arms away, and the waterfall came down.

[trentaafcsblog]

Little Miss Heartbreaker

Chapter 10 - Caught In Your Charm

You’re laying awake for most of the night worrying about who fancies you and who doesn’t. Making a mental tally chart in your head and adding a mark next to each player who you suspect has you on their radar after overthinking every small interaction with them. Taking a deep breath and shaking your head when you realise that you’ve gone through the whole team, and the backroom staff, and have now convinced yourself that everyone fancies you. Forcing yourself to snap out of your stupid mindset as you make your way into the bathroom, hopping straight into the shower despite the water being absolutely freezing - something you never, ever did because you’re usually one of those people that refuses to even step foot into the bathroom unless the water is almost evaporating at how hot it is - but you’re hoping that the icy liquid will knock some sense into you and make you focus on the real reason that you’re here - for work.

You’re throwing your tracksuit on once you’re finished and scraping your hair into a messy bun, tweaking it in the mirror before applying some mascara and slathering lipgloss all over your lips, something you’re not sure why you’re doing when you’re about to eat, but at least it looked like you’d made some sort of effort after being awake all night. Grabbing your lanyard and bottle of water from your bedside table before making your way towards the door, your hand reaching for the handle just as someone happens to knock from the other side.

“Fuck” you’re jumping as your belongings go flying onto the floor. The flip cap of your water bottle catching the leg of the chair tucked under the dressing table, forcing it to open as a pool of water starts to form on the carpet. “Look what you’ve do-” you’re groaning as you unlock the door and go to gesture towards the mini lake that was now sinking into the beige flooring, but your mouth grinds to a halt when you realise who’s come to see you, and your anger instantly fades away when he gives you a shy smile

“Dom I-I, sorry I, um, you okay?” you’re stuttering as he nods his head, asking the same question back as you let out a breathy laugh alongside a small ‘yeah’.

“Just thought I’d come and walk you down to breakfast” he smiles as your heart goes all fuzzy. Your brain, on the other hand, adding another tally mark next to the growing list of interactions in your head. “Had a good sleep?” he’s asking as you nod your head, hoping that he doesn’t study your face too closely and realise that the bags under your eyes are a very obvious contradiction to that. 

The two of you engaging in small talk as you make your way down to the dining room. Almost, just almost, falling slightly in love with him each time he holds a door open for you or laughs at one of your awfully embarrassing dad jokes that you kick yourself for letting slip. Something about his aura making you feel so at ease, and you kind of don’t want your conversation to end, especially since you’ve just made it onto the topic of dogs - a subject that he seemed to be as equally as enthralled by as you - but as they say, all good things must come to an end, and that happens to be ended, rather abruptly, by someone that you really don’t want to spend your time with.

“Oi, I’ve cut my finger!” he bellows across the dining room. Everyone falling silent and looking at you once again as he makes his way in your direction. A few of the lads dropping to the floor in hysterics as he screams and flaps his hand about.

“See you later” you quickly manage to say to Dom before your hypochondriac of a patient makes an appearance, giving him an apologetic look before he disappears off to get himself some food.

“Jadon” you say bluntly, a fake smile appearing on your face as you look down at the finger that he’s waving around.

“You’ve gotta help me, it’s through to the bone” he squeals as he shoves his finger in your face. Gently pushing his hand away with a look of disapproval before holding it up to the light to examine it more closely.

“Come with me” you sigh as you swivel on your heels and march down the corridor to your office, completely ignoring his cries and whimpers and calls of ‘fucking hell, look at that’ when he spreads the cut open to make it look worse. Unlocking the door and letting it close on him, which elicits a groan of ‘woahhh’, before sitting yourself down on your desk chair, scooting over to the bed and waiting for him to follow suit.

***

“What a fuss about nothing” you huff as you get up and put your first aid kit away. Jadon laying there with a very large plaster covering a very small cut on his finger, an ice pack on his head from where he felt as though he might faint, and another plaster covering a bruise on his knee that he begged you to stick on, because apparently, plasters fix everything.

“Nah, shut up, you’ve got to admit that it was probably one of the worst injuries you’ve ever seen” he tells you as you scoff at him. Waiting for him to crack a smile and tell you that he’s joking, but something tells you that this idiot of a man is actually being serious. 

“That’s probably the smallest injury I’ve ever had to deal with in my life, and you’re definitely the most dramatic person I’ve ever had the misfortune of encountering, so I’ll give you that” you’re saying as his jaw drops at your comments.

“Rude,” he pouts as you start organising one of the drawers in your desk. “Seriously though, it does really hurt” he’s saying as you mumble something inaudible under your breath, probably in reference to him being a complete waste of your time.

“You know what would make my finger better?” he’s asking with a smirk as you pause and sharply turn your head to glare at him, already knowing that he’s going to ask something stupid going by the look on his face. “A kiss” he’s announcing with a smug smile, sitting himself up and dangling his legs over the edge of the medical bed. Leaning forward and gently pulling the side of your leg so that your weight causes the wheels on the chair to start spinning and the seat rolls forward in his direction. Wanting nothing more than to just smack him for being such a cocky little twat who thinks that he can make a move on anything with a pulse, but there’s a twinkle in his eye that says ‘this is just a front’, and for some stupid, stupid reason, his confidence and cheeky personality are starting to nip away at your heart, hence why he’s suddenly feeling your breath against his face when you decide to lean in.

“No” you’re whispering.

[angst-fairygodmother]

Hi! I saw your post about you taking requests, and I would like to request prompt 4 en 15 from the grumpy affectionates prompts for light fingers if you want to 😊 in case you haven’t noticed, I really like them 😍

A/N: Sorry this took so long to get to. I got about 2/3 of the way through writing a version of it and then decided I hated it and started over. Hope you enjoy the new version! (Also I slightly changed the wording of 15 to feel more natural/fit better in the story.) Word Count: 1596 Content Warnings: alcohol reference, jealousy

It was one of the rare date nights where Diego actually wanted to go out, so despite being tired from a long week at work and content to just cuddle, you agreed. Pulling out all the stops, you’d gotten dolled up and let him guide you through the city. First, was dinner out at a nice restaurant, classier than you usually bothered with but well worth waiting in a queue for. Then he had suggested continuing the night with dancing, out at a place you knew of that combined ballroom and more typical club styles to create an eclectic, exciting and ever changing affair.

You knew Diego knew how to dance, and had seen him do so on several occasions, usually with you around the apartment, but tonight he was in rare form. There wasn’t a single song he didn’t want to move to, and no matter what the music suggested, he wanted to hold you close for all of it. 

You were no slouch, but he made it a challenge of endurance to keep up with him.

A soft, romantic tune hummed from the overhead speakers and gratefully you slowed to a gentle sway with him, your arms around his neck and his on your waist. Staring into his warm brown eyes that reflected back the club lights beautifully, you felt a sort of bliss settle over you. You had always thought you weren’t meant for “peace,” and had always told yourself that love like your parents had wasn’t meant to find you, because it was easier that way, safer to protect yourself from heartbreak. And yet, here you were, enjoying exactly that. This thing between you and Diego was real and solid and staying and you saw it all in the way he gazed down at you. 

Suddenly the song ended, transitioning into a rapidfire tango, and whatever moment of contemplation you were having was lost into the steps. 

“Diego,” you said, leaning up to call directly into his ear over the music when the song finally wound down. “I’m gonna take a break, just sit out for a sec, alright?”

He frowned, looking worried or like he was about to protest. But then he nodded, kissing you quickly and letting you go. You smiled at him as you wound your way to the sidelines and he watched from the dancefloor. 

Trying to catch your breath, you leaned against the bar, turning to look out at the crowd, sweeping over it to see how Diego handled your absence. Before you spotted him though, something cool tapped against your arm, and you whipped around to find the pretty bartender smiling at you with an outstretched glass of ice water. 

“Oh I didn’t order…” you started before she shook her head.

“No, but I saw you out there tearing up the place,” she smiled. “So I figured you could use a drink, and water’s the only thing I’m allowed to give on the house.”

You laughed, accepting the drink gratefully and taking a long swallow, the cool liquid instantly soothing you. 

“Your man there, he’s pretty...intense.”

“What?” you frowned, trying to pick up on her meaning. “Diego just doesn’t know how to do things in halves.” You shrugged, used to your husband’s quirks. 

“Does that include jealousy?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen him jealous actually. Why?”

“Just checking if I should sleep with one eye open or if that glare’s all bark and no bite.” 

You followed her gaze, turning back around to spot Diego, leaning against a wall, arms crossed and watching intensely. You grimaced. Jealousy wasn’t his style, but overprotectiveness definitely was. Even at a distance, you could tell he didn’t trust the bartender and was bothered by your chatting with her. 

“I’ll talk to him and make sure he knows you were just being friendly.”

“Was I?” she raised an eyebrow and smirked at you, causing you to sputter and nearly choke on another sip of water.

Carefully regaining your composure you smiled. “Well I’m flattered, but…” 

“Don’t sweat it,” she grinned, waving aside your comment, “I don’t need an answer or reciprocation. It was just a bit of harmless fun with someone pretty to liven up the boring work night.”

“I should probably get back over there,” you said lamely, and she nodded. 

Emptying the rest of your glass, you offered her one last smile over your shoulder as you dodged through the club to Diego’s side. As soon as you were in range, he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you so that your back was flush to his chest and nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck.

“I missed you,” he whispered against your skin, following his words with feather-light kisses.

You laughed, twisting out of his grasp to take his hands and tug him back toward the dance floor. “I was gone for less than five minutes.”

“I know,” he sighed, pulling you close again, hands falling to your hips. “But I always miss you. Especially when you look so pretty, no, gorgeous.” 

His head fell to your shoulder again, face pressing into you. 

“Why were you flirting with the bartender?” he asked suddenly.

“I was being friendly.” The pair of you spun around the dancefloor with the others, moving swiftly to the song. 

“Nuh-uh,” he shook his head, hair tickling your cheek. “That wasn’t just friendly.”

“Are you drunk?”

“No! Why would you assume I was? Because I don’t like my wife flirting with other people?”

“No, because you’re acting really strangely.”

“I’m not acting strangely.” 

He stepped back so that instead of dancing, you were squaring off. Several of the people around you noticed, stopping their own movements to stare at you. 

“What do you call this behavior then? Getting all cuddly and affectionate in public is not your style Diego, and neither is accusing me of flirting with someone else.”

“Well, I’ve been subtle at hinting that I want your attention all night and you haven’t noticed once! So what if I got a little pissed and more forward?”

“You’ve had my attention all night! I don’t understand!”

“Not all of it. You’ve been distracted and not really present.”

Your scowl deepened, crossing your arms across your chest. Maybe he was right that you were thinking a lot tonight, but he had no right to demand that you didn’t. And it wasn’t like you were thinking of someone else, or something else even. All your thoughts had been about Diego in some way or another. Who did he think he was, to yell at you like this?

“Now you’re annoyed with me,” he stated, voice a little softer. 

“Obviously.”

His expression softened and he stepped closer. They weren’t quite puppy-dog eyes he was giving you, but they were pretty close, and you could already feel your resolve cracking. But you were determined to be annoyed. You bit the inside of your cheek.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he murmured, one hand coming up to rest on your elbow, face fully a smolder now.

You felt yourself melting at his touch. The rest of the crowd had faded into faint background buzz.

“STOP BEING SO CUTE, IT’S NOT FAIR!” you blurted out. “I’m trying to still be mad at you.”

“But why?”

“Because you were being jealous and grouchy and I don’t appreciate it when you get that way.”

He nodded in understanding. “If you promise to stop being mad, I’ll make it up to you. Any way you want.”

You couldn’t help the smile that cracked your face at the offer, and the way his lower rumble was suggestive of what he meant. 

“Just shut up and dance with me,” you murmured, stepping fully back into his embrace. “No more jealousy or weirdness. And tell me if you feel like I’m ignoring you.”

“Okay, I will. I promise.”

“Good, then I’ll think about forgiving you.”

He laughed, twirling you in his arms. And just like that, all the tension, all the weirdness melted away as if it had never been. 

Well into the early morning the pair of you danced, stumbling home on aching feet just as the first birds began to chirp and stir around you.

“I’m sorry about earlier.” you said, leaning exhaustedly against him as you fumbled with the building’s finicky front door. 

“What are you sorry for?” he gently took the key from your hand and opened the door himself. “I was the one not communicating.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t have to shout at you in the middle of everyone like that.”

“It’s okay, Y/N. I know you didn’t mean anything by it. And you said I was cute.” He smirked teasingly at you before taking you by the hand and leading you up the narrow stair. 

You rolled your eyes, sticking your tongue out at his back and squeezing his hand gently.

“Of course that was your take away,” you muttered as he opened the apartment door next.

“Next time—” he started but you shook your head.

“I don’t want there to be a next time. I just want us to talk.”

“Okay. And I’ll try. I’m just...still not used to someone who wants to hear me say things.”

“I know.” You wrapped your arms around him in a tight embrace that he returned in seconds. “Are we good, though. For real? No jealousy, no bitterness about confronting you?”

“Yeah, we’re good.”

You smiled, dropping onto the bed to tug off your shoes with a sigh of relief. 

“Good. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

[avatarpabu97]

Yet more Black Clover theories and rambles

Ok so hear me out what if the reason why everyone in the spade resistance is surprised that Yuno has Wind Magic because they all thought he would have Ice magic.

Ok so the Heart Kingdom monarchy specialise in water magic because of the inherent Contract with Undine. Which helps control the flow of water and mana within the kingdom and its protection.

The latest chapter of BC reveled that the two demons in the kingdom where two royal youths that used to care for eachother grew an intense hatred toward eachother. They where then sealed into ice which is guarded by house grinberryall who may all specialise in Ice magic.

I'm not saying they have elemental spirit because its been established that their are only four based off the four main elements but they may have special ritual or spell to keep the demons at bay.

Maybe one or both of Yuno's parents we're Ice mages and came from a long line of ice mages. Maybe a few snow, water or wind mages thrown in.

Which Yuno only inherited wind because he housed the soul of Licht and Tetia's unborn son. Yuno's wind sword is in reference of the hybrid nature of the elf fetus suggesting that Tetia's childern would inherit two attributes like charmy a human dwarf hybrid did.

But because his soul is completely human(that we know of) he only get wind sword and not sword magic.

The Spade resistance was expecting and hoping for their long lost prince to jump into the role of great king of Ice. But the wind magic may have throw their plans off.

Implying that the Devil Zagred's meddling caused some interesting changes in the present time.

Also going back to to Tetia if this is the case.

Tetia is a wind mage who looks a lot like Mimosa this could because of family relations or Mimosa was supposed to be Tetia's reincarnation and was supposed to host Tetia spirit had she died.

Meaning Mimosa could have inherited wind magic.

The Silva, Vermilion and Kira family don't really have any particular theme on magic types.

The lion Trio has fire so one or both parents has fire magic.

The Hooch duo have one or both parents with plant magic.

Her majesty Noelle and the dumbass trio have liquid type magic.

Nozel having metal like Acier supposed to represent the elder sibling protecting the younger ones. Acier being Mimosa's mothers elder sister.

Noelle and Solid having liquid water like absent dad and Nebra having mist in reference of absent dad.

This also implies that the main line of Silva and Vermilion stick to Fire and Metal magic hinting at the rivalry of the families and all the side and younger lines have more diverging magic types.

The only three Kiras we've seen have light and scale magic and I've seen people speculate that Finness has a form of light Magic too. Maybe moonlight magic like Karna from Quarter Knights.

I bring this up because all of those who hosted elf Spirits had the same magic type as them. With expectation of Vangence and Patry.

The reincarnation spell may have distribed the natural flow of Reincarnation that the world of BC if it has one. Which it might because from what I can gather is that the souls are reincarnated and hold the nature of Magic while the Spirit is the personality of the current one who lives in a physical body with that soul that can determined what type of magic they get. This is all crazy speculation and theory at this point.

If any of this is true then their is some weird ass implications of Mimosa and Yuno who are 16 being host to a 20 something old mother who died pregnant while het unborn child is in the body that physical the same age.

Even weirder if someone like Asta held the other childs spirit. I speculated Asta kinda looks like a human elf hybrid and had a working theory about the more human descendants Licht and Tetia gave themselves the name Lichitia and then we get Asta's mom who has that name.

This post is long so I'll offer my last thought on magic and reincarnation.

Yami and William are now what's called the Maidens of Apocalypse.

William is the only person we've seen with World tree magic not Tree Magic which exists but its completely different from world tree magic.

Yami is the Only person with Dark Magic. The Opposite is light magic and so far we've seen four people whose had it. Patry, Augustus and Lemiel. With Karna having moonlight magic.

We know that this not the first time that the portal to the devils world was almost open with quliopoth tree. It failed. Its not out of the realm that Lucifero and the other high tier Devils cast their own version of the reincarnation Spell. Causing who ever the original dark and world tree maidens to be Reborn as William and Yami. We know Lucifero has been trying to gain access to the human world because of Liebe.

With thr other devils manipulating events to make it happen. Yami coming to clover. William inheriting a curse from his mothers family.

Cult like families such as Agrippa and Faust having connection to the Devils.

All the weird ass curses that many people throughout the kingdoms having.

Its all been manipulated by many higher powers within the world.

In this world Magic is everything but what seems to stand in its way is two Magicless boys thrown in the middle of the greatest point in history.

[awesometheydontknowiamhere]

Perfect Nights Aren’t So Perfect

Chris Evans X Reader

Requested: Prompt given by Anon for this picture:

“For the pic maybe Chris and the reader are in the car and a car hits the reader’s side while Chris is driving.”

Summary: The reader and Chris have recently started dating. They hadn’t seen each other for a while because Chris was shooting for his next project. Once he wrapped up shooting, he asks the Reader out on a date where he pulls out all the stops. Will the evening end on a perfect note or will it turn into a true tragedy?

A/N: Dear Anon, I hope this is even remotely close to what you had in mind with the prompt. Sorry in advance.

Trigger Warning: Descriptions of car crash, a bit of whump.

Words: 1507

“Hmmm. This is nice,” you said as Chris slipped on his jacket over your dress.

It had been the perfect evening. You had missed Chris like crazy when he was away shooting and now that he was back, he had planned a stunning dinner under the stars. His thoughtfulness had filled up your heart, making it flutter erratically every time he accidentally (and intentionally) touched you.

He opened the passenger door and helped you in, placing a quick kiss on your lips, just because he could. He slipped in the car and helped you with your seatbelt before putting on his. You loved how he always found a way to touch you and be connected to you. You were seeing him after ten weeks and that was clearly evident by how touch starved both of you were.

He drove towards his place, as you had already agreed for a nightcap. He held your hand in his as he drove with the other.

“Chris?”

“Yes, babygirl,” he said and you bit your lip, smiling at the nickname he called you.

“Thank you. Thank for the flowers, thank you for the necklace, thank you for every single text message and call that I received from you when you were away, thank you for making me feel so special,” you said and brought up his hand and placed a kiss on it.

“Y/n, my love, thank you for being you,” he said, looking at you for a quick second before turning his attention back to the road.

You raised your hand to stroke his cheek; a boom sent your whole world spinning. Everything around you was moving impossibly slow. Glass shattered from your side of the window, filling up the car seat, while you were assaulted with air bags deployed from the front and the side. You tried to look at Chris, but between the air bags and the liquid running into your eyes, you couldn’t see much. The vehicle kept moving and you were being continuously jerked around, but because of your seatbelt you were rooted in your seat. The air was filled with screams and your name and you realized that you were the one screaming and Chris was calling out your name.

The car stopped spinning, but the ringing in your ears didn’t. Sirens and slashing lights enveloped you and you tried moving your hand to find Chris. The effort it took was tremendous and your body protested by shooting out pain, but you had to know. You tried lifting up your head and turned to the side, realizing that Chris was already looking at you. Tears were streaming down his face and he was speaking, but you failed to understand what he was saying. His face was drenched in fear and perspiration as he tried to unlock your seatbelt. You watched him look for his phone amid the rubble and place a call. You were tired, you knew he would look after you, you knew that he wouldn’t let anything happen to you.

His eyes were locked into yours. You saw he was struggling with himself to not touch you and help you himself, but he was worried about the damage he would do. His eyes welled up again. You could make out that your name was the only thing he kept saying over and over again.

You mouthed I love you, unable to find the strength to even whisper them out and closed your eyes.

You remembered next to nothing about the next few hours. You slipped in and out of consciousness.

Someone was cutting off the door next to you and slicing off the seat belt.

Paramedics were shouting to the ER doctors.

Nurses shuffled in and out.

You felt cold swabs and sharp pinches.

And then you went to sleep.

Soft beeps woke you up and it took a second for you to realize where you were and what happened. You looked around the room and your eyes landed on Chris asleep on an lounge chair.

You smiled at him sleeping in that position and realized that he needed the sleep and decided not to call attention to you. There were enough meds in your system to put you to sleep again and you snuggled into the pillow and dozed off.

“-  so glad that you’re alive. I don’t even want to think about what could have happened. I promise, I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you,” someone whispered.

You slowly opened your eyes and found Chris sitting next to your bed.

“Baby, you’re awake!” Chris broke out into a splendid smile.

“I am so sorry, all of this is my fault. I should have been more attention to the road. Please, forgive me,” he said, his hands clenched into fists, clearly angry at himself.

“Chris, baby, look at me,” you said and laid your hand on top of his.

“This isn’t your fault, they’re called accidents for a reason. You couldn’t have done anything about it. Please don’t beat yourself up.”

He reached out to touch your face, but stopped midway, putting his hand down.

“You know you can touch me, right?”

“I am scared, I don’t want to hurt you anymore,” he said, his voice barely a whisper.

“I survived a car crash, I think I can handle you, Evans,”you said, trying to make a joke.

His eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets.

“Sorry. Too soon?” you said, teasing him and he finally relaxed.

He cupped your cheek in his palm and you leaned into it, happy to finally get some contact.

Chris was right by your side as the doctors came in and talked about the damage, saying that you were very lucky to end up with only a superficial head injury and a few broken ribs. There was however a nasty gash on your thigh from where the other vehicle had rammed into your side of the vehicle. You had also banged up your shoulder pretty bad because of the impact, but you had no broken bones and no internal bleeding and all of your scans and tests had shown a normal reading. He was right by your side when the nurses came in to change your dressing. He thanked everyone profusely for their help, making those butterflies return in your belly, albeit a little bruised.

Three nights in the hospital and you were finally ready to go home. You were still bandaged up, but the nurses had taught you how to change the dressing, and of course, Chris had insisted on learning too.

Chris hadn’t left even for an hour, during the time he had spent at the hospital, his assistant had dropped of a bag of clothes and supplies. He had also snuck in some ice cream because hospital food was absolutely bland.

You shooed away the nurse who came in with a wheelchair to take you outside, but returned again with Chris by her side.

“Babe, either you get the wheelchair or I can carry you out here in my arms, bridal style. It’s your call,” he said, mirth dancing in his eyes.

Horrified at the prospect of all those eyes trained on you, you meekly agreed to the wheelchair.

Chris laid out your clothes on the bed, a wrap-around skirt and shirt.

“Sorry about the dress,” he said, referring to the red satin number you had worn for dinner, “ I will buy you ten more.”

You laughed and stood up, ready to get into some normal clothes. You never wanted to see hospital greens ever again in your life.

“Whoa, hello? I am right here. Let me help you,” Chris said, proceeding to help you out of the gown.

His pure heart reflected in everything he did and you nearly bawled like a baby when he said that he got the wrap around skirt because he knew it would be difficult for you to step into any clothes.

Your arm, though tender, was out of the supporting cast, and hence you could slip on your shirt. Chris pulled your hair out from the shirt and went ahead and tied it in a low pony, keeping all that hair out of your face.

“It’s not fair,” you mumbled

“What was that, babe?” Chris said and pulled you towards him.

“I said that it’s not fair that you get to look this good after three nights of sleeping on a hospital couch.”

“Get used to this face because I don’t think I am ever letting you out of my sight. Y/N, we are going home, you are going to recover and get back on your feet and then I will officially ask you if you want to move in with me, but for now, you’re coming home with me,” he said, leaning his forehead against yours.

All of his anguish and fears were vivid in your mind and you couldn’t get the image of him scared and screaming your name out.

To grant both him and yourself some peace of mind, you smiled and agreed, placing kiss on his lips that sealed the deal.