#I see the vision with these two. i love them

[buckys-wintersoldier]

Summer of love | B.B

Just before summer break you think you will spend all day in front of the television with lot of ice cream and even more romantic movies to dream about. Little do you know that your ex-boyfriend’s rival will turn your summer into a dream itself.

Pairing: College!Bucky Barnes x College!Fem!Reader

Wordcount: 11.106 Words

Warnings: college au, football captain Bucky, ex-boyfriend’s rival!Bucky, break up (not Bucky), fluff, love, bit angst, Bucky being emotional, love confession, more fluff, so much more fluff, did I mention: fluff!

Authors Note: The biggest thank you to @thevillainswhore for the title, for helping to decide pictures and proofreading. I’m so grateful and I love you!❤️❤️

Events: Writing Challenge | College Au; saying ‘I love you’ for the first time | @elixirfromthestars

Bucky Barnes Bingo | B023 | Y2 | AU: Sports | @buckybarnesbingo | Seasonal Delights Bingo: Types of love | G5 | unlikely friendship | @seasonaldelightsbingo | Multifandom Flash Bingo: Compliments | Row One-Three | I’ll take that as a compliment | @multifandom-flash

Masterlist | Bucky Barnes Masterlist

Your world broke down when you looked at your phone and saw the message your boyfriend — now ex-boyfriend — sent you. It was just after the last lesson of the day — summer break had started.

You were sure as hell that he was going to fuck every girl that had an interest in him, which were a lot considering he was the captain of one of the college’s football teams.. He was handsome and well trained but his character? Well, that was something you would prefer not to talk about.

John was a nice, gentle boy when the two of you were alone. He took care of you and made you feel loved — most of the time at least. But whenever he was around his friends or anywhere the two of you could be seen together, he kept his distance. He didn’t bother to hold your hand or kiss you in public. When you had dates outside your dorms, it was mostly in small coffee shops or the next town where no one would see you together.

When you repeatedly asked him if he was ashamed,  he would just shake his head and tell you that you overreacted, that he just has to keep his image, he couldn’t  just date anybody. You tried to tell him that other boys show off their girls too but he still kept your relationship as much a secret as possible.

Even though people heard the rumor that the two of you were dating — some of them having seen you —he never made it clear that you belong to him. So you often had the bitchy girls who laughed at you, gave you side eyes or commented on your relationship with John. ‘How fake it was’ — and maybe they were right.

However, while John was probably using his whole summer to have fun and fuck around — having the best time ever — you would probably sit in your room and cry until your eyes burned. He hadn’t treated you as perfect as you wished for, like men do in your romantic books or movies, but he still ripped your heart out and shattered it into tiny little pieces. So, chocolate and lots of ice cream would become your best friends during your summer break, giving you the comfort you so desperately sought. You were sure you wouldn’t find a man who  would love you.

Maybe it wasn't even  that he broke up with you that hurt you so much, but the way he did it — through a message. He didn’t even have enough balls to tell you personally that he was done with you. No, he sent it as a message — two messages in fact, which now that you thought about it, made you want to punch him in his face. Hard.

You figured that was the reason why he hadn’t told you face to face. Because he didn’t want the backlash of your reaction. You may have been angry, but you would never lay a hand on him — even if he did deserve it. He may have broken your heart but you weren’t a monster. But for now, you were still sitting in school, staring at the message to try and find a little hint that it all was a joke. Your eyes were teary and your vision blurry when you re-read the message over and over again. There had to be a hint that it was a joke. He wouldn’t break up with you, right?

The feeling that John really meant those words settled heavily into your stomach. You inhaled deeply to try and stop your body from shaking. He couldn’t  mean it — he just couldn’t. The two of you were together for two years already and he threw it away like it meant nothing to him. Or maybe the reason he mentioned in his messages is true and he just wanted to have a summer break.

Your eyes roamed over your phone once again. The screen was blurred by your tears but you could still read it. Over and over again but it didn’t change a thing, it only made your thoughts run faster and  louder, but nothing else.

John: Hi, I’ll make it short. Things between us became boring and I know you wouldn’t allow me to have sex with anyone. Even though there wouldn’t be any feelings, I have to break up with you.

John: It’s neither your nor my fault, we just remind me of old people. We’re always doing the same things and I need action. So if you give me the summer break, we can date after the summer again.

He was your first real boyfriend but you didn't want to be second best. That’s exactly what you would be if you went back to him after summer break. He broke your heart, and he hurt you a lot — but that didn’t  mean you were a naive, little fucktoy for him to use becuase it was easy to date you. You never complained much and he always had you when he didn't feel well or frustrated.

And John may have been right that things between the two of you became boring, but he never had time for you in the first place. Everything else was more important and when he did have time for you, it was mostly sex or he came over really late. The dates became very rare, and you just wished he would have had more time for you but you didn’t want to push him or force him either.

You lowered your phone and inhaled deeply. With one hand you wiped the tears off your face, trying to calm down before you felt ready to go home. They all were right, he played with you, or at least he was ashamed to be with you and you never noticed — or just ignored it.

“Whatcha doin’ here?” A rough voice came from next to you and you immediately tilted your head to look at the young man who took a place next to you on a chair. His brown, long hair was tied to a bun, just a few strands fell into his handsome face and framed it. He smiled softly at you, leaning on the table with his head still turned toward you. “Who’s causing those tears?”

His smile slowly faded when he noticed your red eyes and the traces of tears over your cheek. Almost instinctively, he brought one of his hands to your cheeks, cupping it softly. His thumb caressed your cheek, removing the tears. The brown haired man was gentle, his ocean blue eyes pierced into yours and when you finally offered him a soft smile, he grinned at you, again.

“So, who caused this pretty girl to cry at the beginning of summer break,” he asked, his voice rough but so soft. You almost melted into his touch, his warmth sending shivers through your body and you needed a moment to gather your thoughts before you spoke.

“I— my boyfriend or now ex-boyfriend. He sent me a message that he wants to have the summer for himself and after we could date again,” you answered, smiling softly at the man in front of you. He shook his head, knowing that the smile on your lips was nothing but fake, and as much as he loved to see you smile, he didn’t  want you to force one onto your lips to play your hurt off. “What are you doing here still, James?”

James’ eyes widened when his name slipped past your lips. Before he could stop himself, he grinned even wider at you. “Ya know my name, huh, babydoll? I had something to clear up with the coach.”

“Of course, I do. You're one of the most famous boys in college,” you said and he nodded. You weren’t  wrong. Even students who didn’t follow football knew of him too. On the other hand, your ex-boyfriend was James' rival. “You're the captain of the football team, or the captain of one of them. The other is John…”

James nodded again, then he cleared his throat and tilted your head up with his hand that still captured your cheek. “Yeah…” he trailed off slightly. “So, can we get back to ya statement, that he sent ya a message to break up with ya. Ya know that’s how little school boys do it.”

You chuckled softly, nodding. You definitely knew that it wasn’t a nice way to break up with someone you used to love but you couldn’t change it. You let your eyes trail over James' handsome face for a moment, taking in every small detail of his pretty face. You had never been this close to him before and he looked even more stunning up close.

“Ya droolin’, babydoll,” James pointed out and used his pointer finger to close your mouth. Your eyes widened and you wiped over your mouth, growling at him when you didn't feel the saliva. “Jus’ wanted to warn ya before ya make a fool out of ya'self.”

You nodded, glaring at him for a moment longer before you finally found the courage and the words to tell him what was on your mind since he mentioned that John's behavior was kind of childish. You inhaled deeply, letting your eyes wander back to his beautiful blue ones. Your tongue poked out, wetting your lips and you noticed with a giggle that James eyes immediately darted down to your lips.

“It's not the only shitty thing he did,” you mumbled. James' eyes widened in curiosity. He didn’t  want to push you to tell him, but he would have loved to hear what his rival was like when he had such a pretty girl like you by his side. “He said we became boring, and that's neither mine nor his fault. Maybe he is right, but he never had time, it was mostly about sex, or nights together but otherwise he was always busy.”

You weren’t even sure why you told James about that but he was the only one who seemed curious and you just hoped he wouldn't use it against you. If anything, he would probably only use it against John.

James nodded, his eyes narrowed and he looked away for a moment. His hand never left your cheek and it gave you more comfort than you thought it would. But you were glad he sat down next to you and used his time to let you talk about John, offering you the comfort you were seeking so badly. When he looked back at you, his eyes glistened with something you had never seen before but it made you feel warm and safe with him.

“What a shame, with such a pretty girl by his side too…” he mumbled more to himself. “Did he at least introduce ya to his friends and family? The two of ya were together for over two years, right?”

You nodded slightly, definitely surprised by James' knowledge of your and John's relationship. “Yes but he didn't introduce me to his family. I know his friends but not really, he always tried to meet up when no one else was around.”

“So….” James trailed off, he already knew the answer but he wanted to hear it again — he wanted to hear that John was a dick who couldn't treat his girlfriend like a man but like a school boy. His ocean blue eyes were piercing into yours again, his lips were slightly curled up. “He didn't show you off — neither to his family, nor to his friends, when possible — not to the world?”

You shook your head. “N-No, not once… his friends saw us together maybe once or twice but we never went to their birthdays together. I-I was invited too, but John said I wouldn't like it there so he already told them I wasn’t interested in coming to their parties.”

“Dickhead,” James mumbled under his breath. His eyes never left yours and he inhaled deeply. “He's an idiot.”

You shrugged, smiling softly. But as much as you tried to hide the pain, it didn’t work with Bucky looking at you so intensely like he could read your soul. His fingers still caressed your cheek, two of them moving to your jaw and wandering along to your chin and back to your ear. “It's not that much of a big deal…”

James huffed with an amused expression on his face, shaking his head slightly. The few strands that hung in his face moved with his head from side to side. You wanted to wrap them around your fingers and play with his brown strands. “Oh, ya don't know how much of a big deal that is when a boy doesn't show off his girl by his side. If ya were mine, I would show you off to everyone — would make sure everyone knows you belong to me. I would even kiss ya in public, so everyone would know that this pretty girl is mine — would show ya off to everyone! Whatever ya ask for, wish for, it would be yours so ya know how much I care about ya.”

“What if—“ you thought for a moment before speaking your thoughts out loud. “If I would ask for the world, or for the stars? You can’t give them to me.” You chuckled softly, your heart beat faster when you heard his words. But at the same time you knew that he couldn’t give you everything. As much as a person loves someone, no one can give one the world, or the stars right?

“Trust me, babydoll, if you asked me for the world, I would get it for you. You want the stars? Oh, babydoll, you would get even those. A man has to carry his princess in his hands or else he isn’t worth her attention and love,” James said, he let his hand travel from your cheek to your chin. He tilted your head up with his hand underneath your chin, getting all of your attention. “How about that… ya put your stuff into ya bag. And then I invite ya to get ice cream with me.”

James pulled your stuff closer and waited patiently for you to put it into your bag. He leaned back in his seat, his ocean blue eyes roaming over your body, mostly over your face. You put your things into your bag, his offer is too good to say no. With one smooth movement you closed the zipper of your bag.

You got off, and swung the bag to carry it over your shoulder but James grasped it with one hand and took it out of your hand. With a smirk he got up as well and walked towards the door of the classroom, waiting for you to follow him.

“Whatcha looking like that? Ya comin’ or want to stay there all day?” He grinned at you. With his free hand, he tucked a strand of his long, brown hair behind his ear. “Told ya, a man has to carry his girl in his hands, now get ya pretty ass over here or I’m gonna eat all the ice cream by myself.”

Your mouth dropped open at his words, clearly to his amusement. You walked toward him, closing your mouth slowly before you reached for your bag but James turned to the side and trapped it between him and the door. He smirked at you, holding his hand into the direction he wanted you to walk. James' slightly raised eyebrow gave you no room to argue with him.

“You don’t know if my ass is pretty, maybe you don’t like it,” you said with a shrug. James waited a moment before he followed you, his eyes roaming down your back to your swinging hips and your ass. He had to hold back a moan as a response to your beauty and the way your hips swayed from one side to the other.

He then walked through the hallway, following you until he walked next to you. “Ya have the most beautiful ass I’ve ever seen. But I couldn't have imagined it otherwise, ya’re the prettiest girl.”

It wasn’t like he had checked out a lot of girls, almost none since he had a crush on someone. James couldn’t look at another girl the same anymore after he fell in love, it felt like he had cheated and he didn’t like the feeling, even though the girl didn’t even know he was in love with her.

“Do you have a girlfriend, James? I mean, you're a football captain, handsome, nice. You should go to her instead of getting ice cream with your rival's ex-girlfriend,” you asked, curious about the captain's answer. You didn’t know much about him, he wasn’t a playboy — that was for sure. You had only seen him fielding once with a girl, maybe it was just talking to her.

“No girlfriend. Have a crush on someone but she doesn’t know about it,” he said with a shrug and opened the front door to let you walk outside first. You thanked him, feeling butterflies in your stomach about such a small but meaningful gesture. “Ya can call me Bucky. Most of my friends call me Bucky.”

“Okay, then, Bucky, who don’t you tell her?” A groan left his plump lips and you giggled softly. That was the topic every guy tried to avoid when he talked to girls. But since it was just you and him, he would maybe tell you more about her. “You look good but don’t talk to girls, that’s definitely a good thing when it comes to girls.”

Bucky nodded. He knew what girls liked and what they didn’t like — mostly because of his friends in the team who had girlfriends. He was not just once in the middle of an argument where he had to assure the girl that the team went out without other girls.

“I know, but ya know. Don’t think she even noticed me.” Bucky said, leading you to his car. His big hand had found its way to the small of your back after you had left the building with him. His hand was warm and comforting.

“How can someone not notice you? You’re the captain of the football team.” You were almost shocked about his statement. Everyone who wasn’t completely new in school knew about the captains of the teams — mostly even knew about the other members of the team. They were all pretty handsome and the typical guy girls read in books when they tried to make their perfect boyfriend in their minds.

“Because not everyone likes football? Some people ignore us too,” Bucky said. He opened his car, letting you sit before he shut the door and walked around the car, getting into it as well. He had a dark blue Jeep, it was clean and you were surprised that it was really that clean.

Bucky was a college boy, a football college boy. So you thought he would have a messy car, but instead it was even cleaner than yours would probably be.

“You really love that car?” You earned a nod, followed by a chuckle. Bucky's cheeks heated up and he wanted to hit his head against the steering wheel, he made a fool out of himself with you being so close to him.

“Yeah, don’t like it messy. Ya, don’t look at me like that, I know whatcha wanted to say!” Bucky laughed, starting the car to drive the two of you to his favorite ice shop. “You will love the ice there, they have more flavors than you can imagine.”

The two of you stayed silent for a moment, both stuck in your minds and thoughts. Your eyes were focused on Bucky while he was focused on the street. Even though he didn’t turn his head, he watched you out of the corner of his eye, smirking to himself when he noticed that you stared at him once again.

After a few minutes you cleared your throat, getting him to turn his face for a moment toward you. Bucky offered you a soft smile before his eyes darted back to the street, but he was still letting you know that he listens to you with a hum.

“Why are you doing this for me? I mean, you don’t know me and I’m just the pathetic ex-girlfriend of your rival,” you asked, smacking yourself mentally for even asking that. But you didn’t want him to do that for you because he felt pity.

“I will tell ya at the end of the summer break,” he said, his eyes finding yours once again. He could see the way you were looking at him, that there was more behind the question than just curiosity. “You’re not a burden and I don’t do it because I feel pity for you, so get those thoughts out of your pretty mind immediately, babydoll.”

You chuckled, eyes still remaining on Bucky while he drove the two of you to the ice cream shop he loved so much. Little did you know, it was also your favorite one, only when you arrived did your eyes widen and you stared at Bucky with an excited glisten in your eyes. He grinned at you, getting out of the car to almost run around so he could open the door for you, while you stared at the shop with a huge grin on your face.

“My lady,” Bucky smirked and offered you his hand to take. He helped you get out of the car, his lips curled even further up when he noticed that you couldn’t take your eyes off the ice cream shop. “Like that?”

“I—” you trailed off, letting your eyes wander to meet Bucky's ocean blue ones. You smirked at him, raising an eyebrow before clearing your throat to hide the excitement. Even though you were pretty sure Bucky knew how excited you were already. “I don't just like it… I LOVE IT. That's my favorite ice cream shop!”

You had always wanted to go here with John, but he would just shake his head and tell you that the one closer to your apartment was just as good or that this one was too expensive for just ice cream. He wasn't wrong, it wasn’t as cheap as other smaller ones. But the others didn’t have that amount of different ice creams and they didn’t taste as good as they did in your favorite ice cream shop.

Bucky nodded, taking your hand into his and interlacing your fingers. His grip was firm but so comforting that you didn’t even think about removing your hand from his. The two of you walked then slowly to the entrance of the little building. It wasn’t as full as you thought it would be, even a few tables were free and you already looked around to find the best place before you had even decided which ice cream you wanted.

“You already know what you want?” Bucky asked and got your attention back. He had already pulled you toward the counter, greeting the woman behind it. The brown haired man didn’t offer her the smile he showed you, she only got a small grin which didn't even reach his sparkling eyes. The moment his eyes landed on you, his eyes were even softer and his smile bigger, lighting up the blue in his eyes. “You can have as many as you want.”

“I know I'm gonna pay for my ice cream myself.” You mumbled and looked at all the different ones to decide which ones you wanted. Bucky grunted, he would definitely pay for the ice cream, he wouldn't have asked you if he let you pay for it yourself. He nodded slowly, glaring at the woman behind the counter, letting her know that he would pay. You looked up at her, smiling softly. “I—”

You stuttered when you tried to decide if you really wanted those flavors or different but then you let her finally know which you wanted. Your eyes wandered to Bucky, who had a mischievous grin on his face and you rolled your eyes, letting your head fall against his shoulder and looked up at him.

“You won't let me pay for my ice cream, right?” He shook his head, looking down at you with the most intense but softest expression you had ever seen on someone's face. You were not sure what there was between you and him but it gave you the comfort you were always looking for — you didnt really know him but it felt like you had known him forever already.

“I asked you out, so I'm gonna pay. No discussion, just get your ice cream and get us a table,” Bucky said and leaned his head against yours for a moment until the woman behind the counter gave you your ice cream and you did as you were told after mumbling a soft ‘thank you’ into Bucky's shoulder.

— —

The first few days of summer break you spent in your apartment, wrapped into a blanket and watching a lot of movies while eating even more ice cream. But instead of crying your eyes out, you had company from your — now — best friend. After your ice cream date with Bucky the two of you walked through the park until the sun went down and even then you two had so much more to talk about — so you offered to meet him the next day. And that's exactly what the two of you did, since then you met every day.

Bucky always brought you small presents and gave you a lot of compliments. You could stand in front of him in a dress or in your pajamas with messy hair — he always told you how beautiful and stunning you were. You first didn't believe him, thinking it was just a joke but whenever you looked into his ocean blue eyes, there was nothing but the truth and love visible.

Today he asked you to go out with him again. He had a surprise and who were you to say no to such a sweet and gentle man? Bucky didn’t just help you to forget about John, but he also showed you what love and affection really meant. He wasn’t afraid to show you off to the world, even though you were not his girl, yet.

“Babydoll, are ya ready?” he asked, peeking through the door of your bedroom with a smirk. Bucky knew that you were at least dressed, otherwise he wouldn't look without permission. When his eyes met yours you blushed softly but shook your head.

Bucky's eyes widened, he then narrowed them and took a step into your bedroom. You looked so perfect in your outfit — just like always, so why weren’t you ready? He noticed the slight struggle in your eyes when he let his roam over your body. Without a word he understood what was stopping you from being ready for your date with him.

Bucky walked closer, his arms reaching out and pulling you toward him. He snook his arms around your waist, pressing his broad chest against your back before he turned the two of you around so you were looking at the two of you in the mirror. “You're beautiful, look at ya. Ya’re the most beautiful and I'm honored that you allow me to take ya out. Don't ya think you look pretty?”

You swallowed thickly. Bucky looked stunning, always so perfectly fine and every girl was staring at him. He could have anyone and the feelings you developed slowly for him didn’t 

 help your running thoughts — they only made it worse. Especially because John had never asked you out like that, he never wanted to show you off to anyone. But Bucky acted like you were the only girl in the world — little did you know, in his world you were the only one.

“Y-You're so pretty…” You mumbled, causing Bucky to chuckle into your neck. He had his head placed on your shoulder, staring at you in his arms through the mirror with a smile. He wouldn’t leave the room, not until he’s sure it was what you wanted too — otherwise he would just carry you into the living room and cuddle with you all night. “You're so perfect, stunning. Every girl is always staring at you, and you could have them all… And I am just me.”

“Ya don't understand, do ya? I don't care who is looking at me, they can look all they want,” Bucky said into your neck, trying to hold himself back so he wouldn’t confess everything. “Do ya remember the day where we went the first time to the ice cream shop? Ya said it ya’self, that I'm not a playboy. Let them look, they aren't out with me, are they? Plus the thing I’ve planned for the two of us is just ya and me.”

He wanted to say so much more, but he just couldn’t. At least not right now, it wasn’t that he didn’t mean it or is scared, but he wanted to prove it all to you, before he made the next step. Bucky wanted you to see that he meant everything he said and then — then he would do the next step with you.

You nodded softly, letting Bucky lead you out of the bedroom. His arms were still around your waist, his chest pressed against your back while the two of you walked through the floor toward your living room to pick up your phone and his bag.

“Do you trust me, babydoll?” With a soft smirk you turned your head to face Bucky, nodding slightly once again. “Then trust me that you're stunning and you are you but that's the point, that's what makes you special. You make yourself special.”

Bucky’s expression was soft but serious. You didn’t have words, knowing that he meant every single word he said without doubt.

“T-thank you,” you mumbled, sending a shiver through Bucky’s body. He adored the way you reacted whenever he made a compliment, so shy and just cute.

He led you to his car, still being such a gentleman and when you first thought it was just to impress you, you were now pretty sure that Bucky was always like that around someone he likes. He didn’t promise you too much when he said that a man had to carry his girl in his hands — you may not have been his girl but he did it anyway.

As much as you tried to find out where the two of you were going, he didn't tell you. Bucky was good at changing topics when it came to a surprise and you didn't get the tiniest of information out of him.

Bucky kept his soft smile the whole time while he drove the car through the streets of the town, you were pretty sure you sometimes drove in circles so he could confuse you because everything looked alike. When he stopped the car in a quiet, almost empty parking space.

“So, ya can either close ya eyes and promise me to keep them close, or I’m gonna use that pretty scarf to cover ya eyes until we’re there.” He held a soft, fluffy scarf in front of him and you trusted him enough that he wouldn’t let you run against something. You knew you would try to sneak, so you had to decide that Bucky should use the scarf to cover your eyes.

“I- maybe… I won’t sneak?” You giggled, it didn't sound serious enough for Bucky so he just wrapped the soft fabric around your head and tied it together. You felt his warm breath against your cheek, your breath hitched and you dug your fingers into your thighs, trying to calm the butterflies in your stomach.

“So, how many fingers do you see?” Bucky chuckled, leaning back to hold his hands in front of your face. Instead of fingers he made a heart with his hands, smirking at you.

Your chuckle brought him back to reality, his eyes shot from your lips back to your covered eyes and he waited for an answer. “Mhm…. Three?” You giggled, not seeing anything because of the scarf in front of your eyes.

“Guess again,” he smirked, letting his hand fall down before he got out of the car. Bucky walked around, opening the door for you to help you out as well. He took care that you didn’t hit your head somewhere. “We are walking a bit but it’s not far, and I promise I won’t let you run into something.”

With that he wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, pulling you tight against his chest to make sure he had control where to go and that you wouldn’t fall or hurt yourself somewhere.

You had never trusted someone before that much that you would have let them cover your eyes and lead you somewhere. But with Bucky it felt different, you knew that — you felt it — that he would never do anything where you could be in danger or hurt yourself. You trusted him with everything, and you used every opportunity to show him just that.

Bucky led you a bit, holding you firmly pressed against him. His fingers played with the fabric of your dress, tickling you softly. “Don’t squirm, babydoll.”

“Then don’t tickle me,” you giggled, trying to get away from his tickles. Bucky laughed, pulling you even closer but stopped tickling you.

“Can’t keep my hands to myself when it causes such sweet noises from you,” he mumbled into your neck. The two of you walked a bit further and when you inhaled deeply you smelt some flowers but also water. You didn’t know where you were, but it had to be pretty because Bucky told you that he had never brought people there with him before.

When Bucky stopped he took a step backwards, one of his hands remaining on you, while he untied the scarf around your head. The soft fabric fell down your face and you caught one side of it with your hands, the other was stuck in Bucky’s big hand.

You needed a moment to get used to the sun but when you opened your eyes and looked around your mouth drops open. Bucky had brought a blanket and food there. In front of you was also a small lake surrounded by trees and some floors in front of it. It was the most beautiful place you had ever seen.

“B-Bucky…” you said quietly, turning your head to face Bucky. He grinned at you, his eyes shining beautiful in the light of the sun combined with the way he smiled at you. He was proud of himself for making you happy and impressed with such a small gesture. “This is… it’s amazing. I love it, it’s so beautiful.”

He let go of you to take a step away, taking out his phone. He opeed the camera and turned around, pulling you in front of him, his arm wrapping protectively around your waist as he snapped a photo of the two of you. Only when he showed you the photo did you notice why he took a step to the side — it now showed everything, the trees, the flowers, the lake, the blanket with the food and the two of you with a huge smile across your faces.

“Ya know, it’s my new background now,” Bucky explained as he made it his new background. Now you were smiling at him every time he turned his phone on. And everyone knew you were his.

You smiled, already decided that you were going to use that or a picture you would take of him or him and you as background as well. It was such a sweet idea and you would love to look at him whenever you looked at your phone.

“Now sit down. I made the cake myself!” Bucky said with a proud smirk on his face as he pointed at the cake. It was your favorite one, you told him about it and you already noticed that it just looked like the description you gave him.

“You’re the best.” With a giggle you sat down, Bucky did the same, taking a seat next to you and offering you some food and drinks.

The cake was perfect, just like you described it and you wouldn’t have know better, you would have guessed he bought it from a baker. You suggested that Bucky could become a baker, he would be rich in no time. But he just chuckled and shook his head.

His eyes roamed over your face before he looked into your eyes once again. He was the first person you didn’t mind staring into one another’s eyes for hours. “I’m only baking for my best girl.”

Your cheeks heated up and you had to look away. You were still not used to all his compliments and sweet words. And Bucky used every opportunity to make you blush, loving the way you smiled shyly at him before you had to look away for a moment. But then, you couldn’t even look away for long, and he adored the effect he had on you, he could spend all day just watching you giggle and blushing. Bucky wouldn’t mind listening to you all day either, as long as it was you who was around.

The two of you sat there, talking about everything and nothing. You had never laughed that much with someone like you did with Bucky. He knew all your weaknesses and strengths, the two of you hadn’t even talked for over two weeks but he was your best friend already. The only one you knew you could be completely honest and open around, he could read you like a book anyway.

When the sun went down, you were sitting between Bucky's legs, your back pressed against his chest. He drew small circles on your stomach while you watched the sunset. It was the most beautiful yellow followed by red until it was only the clouds that were still painted in a slight pink before it became dark around you.

You shivered lightly in Bucky arms, pressing yourself further against him. With a smirk he removed his hands from you, grasping his bag. “I have a present for ya,” he told you before he placed his bag in front of you. “Open it.”

Your slightly shaking hands opened the zipper of his backpack and your eyes narrowed when you saw just some fabric inside until you noticed what it was. Your eyes widened when you tilted your head slightly and took it out of the bag. In your hands you held a hoodie, and it wasn’t just one. It was Bucky’s football hoodie, where his number and his name were big on the back. You pulled it closer, burying your face in his hoodie and inhaling his scent. Bucky chuckled, he looked at you like a puppy in love — and he was exactly that. “Y-You give me your hoodie?”

Bucky leaned his head on your shoulder, nodding. “If ya want to. Ya can also have another one or just for yet so ya won't freeze. But actually I thought I would love the sight of my name on ya back.”

Sometime at the start of the summer break, the two of you made that unwritten plan to spend all the time together. You never asked him if you could spend some more time, neither did he. He just took you out, making sure you wanted to but slowly he had the feeling you could have moved into his apartment with him. He knew he hugged you all the time, made sure you’re happy and the urge to tell you about his true feelings got bigger with every day.

But as much as he wanted to tell you — he didn’t want to do it just yet. He wanted to give you the whole summer break to see that he didn’t have the intention to get into bed with you. Bucky wanted you to see that you were worth so much more than what John was willing to give you. Bucky wanted to show you what real love meant, he wanted you to crave him just as much as he craved you.

This night Bucky spent at your apartment, he made pudding for the two of you. The two of you were wrapped in a blanket together and he held you as close as possible. You had the best sleep in years, knowing that Bucky would be still there in the morning when you woke up. And you were right, he had you pulled onto him, your head resting on his chest and you listened to his steady heartbeat. His heartbeat and his scent had such a calming effect on you, and you used every opportunity to be as close to him as possible. His arms, his embrace felt like home.

His morning voice was the hottest you could imagine, it was slightly rougher than his usual and it sent shivers down your spine every time. Bucky almost moved into your apartment with time, he brought most of his stuff like clothes so he could spend all day and all night with you. And even though he allowed you to take his clothes if you wanted, he didn't realise he would have to wash them so often because you stopped wearing yours. So you both wore Bucky clothes — you offered him to wear yours and he once tried a dress of yours.

You took a picture of him, making it your new background. Or it was more a picture of the thick, muscular football captain in a red dress of yours, while you wore the hoodie with his name and number on his back. The two of you stood in front of the table, your chest pressed against Buckys, while he held the phone and took the picture.

As much as you loved to go out with Bucky, you also loved the times when it was just the two of you. Bucky was a perfect cook and baker. So he either cooked for the two of you or you did it together, same went for baking.

The two of you ended up as snowmen one time, it started with you accidentally blowing the flour at Bucky. He then took way too much flour and let it fall down over your head with a huge grin across his face. Little did he know that you would grab the whole bowl and throw it at him. His reaction was to run away and into the wall by accident so he was trapped between the wall and the fridge.

It was a lot to clean, especially because Bucky hugged you and was smearing all the flour he had on his clothes on yours. You were sure you could have baked a whole cake with the amount of flour the two of you used for our little snowman action.

But the most special moment for you was two weeks before school started again. Your best friend has asked you out so often, you made trips together and spent every minute together. But when he asked you to come to Steve's birthday your mouth dropped open and you didn’t know how to respond. Of course, you would have loved to but John never wanted to have you around his friends — around his team. And Steve was one of Bucky's football team members, so there would be a lot of other people too. With a lot of assurance from Bucky you agreed and there you were now.

Bucky stood with his big hand on the small of your back next to you, looking down. The two of you were in front of Steve's house and you knew that you could still say no and Bucky would have immediately drove you back home. “I-I… Are you sure you want to be seen with me, Bucky?”

His eyes widened and he narrowed them. His hand wandered up to your shoulders to turn you toward him. His other hand settled itself on your chin and made you look directly into his intense blue eyes. “I'm more than sure that I want everyone to see us together. Babydoll, I’m not ashamed of ya, but if ya don't feel comfortable we can go home and watch movies.”

Home. You could go home. Yours, Buckys. It was more than just your apartment now, it was everything because even Bucky called it home.

“N-No, I think I can do that,” you mumbled nodding with a soft smile. You inhaled deeply, feeling Bucky's big hand take yours and interlacing your fingers with his. He then leaned down and kissed your cheek softly. You felt a shiver run down your spine, you were so in love with him but too shy to tell him — it would maybe ruin your friendship so you just enjoyed him being so close to you.

“If ya want to go home, ya gonna tell me,” Bucky said, his voice soft but leaving no room for discussion. So you nodded once again. Bucky smirked at you, knocking at the door which swung open almost immediately. The man grinning at the two of you was just as big as Bucky, his hair was way shorter and blond. His eyes were as blue as Buckys and you looked him up and down for a moment.

“Thought you won’t like to come in,” Steve said with a chuckle, letting both of you walk into his house. His eyes roamed over his friend, then over you until he noticed your interlaced fingers. Bucky squeezed your hand even more, pulling slightly  you closer to him with a raised eyebrow at Steve.

They both have a moment of silent communication. Steve knew what was going on, he knew who you were. Not because you were John's ex-girlfriend. He knew you because of Bucky, who just couldn’t stop looking at you. The two men had a lot of talks, where Bucky just needed to tell him about you, that he had to have you and that he was so fucking in love with you.

“Happy Birthday,” you said after a moment, getting both men's attention. Steve smiled at you nodding.

“Thank you. Now get inside, the others can't wait to get to know ya girl, Buck,” Steve said and walked in front of the two of you. He knew that Bucky was going to mention that you were not his girl — at least not yet — but you were his best friend. To Steve's surprise the statement never came, and Bucky just grinned down at you, his eyes shining when he led you through the hallway to the living room where the others were.

“Ya don’t mind him calling ya my girl, do ya?” Bucky asked, knowing that you didnt mind it. None of the two of you had ever said those three words yet, but he knew you felt the same for him. Bucky had seen you shivering and giggling enough whenever someone mentioned that you and Bucky were a couple. But he also noticed the soft, sad flash across your face when someone did, knowing that you were scared to fully give in to your feelings without having any voices in your mind that told you you were not worth it.

You just didn’t understand that you were everything for Bucky. You always were, you always would be. But you were sometimes stuck in your mind, thinking about all the girls who looked better than you — all the ones he could have. And then you didn’t notice that he didn’t m care about a single one of them, for Bucky it was just you. You were his one and you Would always  be his one — he would spend his lifetime to make sure you understood that there could be everyone but he only wanted you.

“I don't mind that,” you giggled, following Steve further into the living room. ‘I actually love it when people notice that I belong to you’.

Every pair of eyes was on you and Bucky when you walked into the room. Some of them were curious, some of them had an expression on their faces like ‘knew it, pal’. Through the whole evening and night Bucky introduced you to everyone with a proud smile. His hands were always somewhere on you, either around your waist or holding your hand.

His teammates were really nice, they were interested in you. And you had a lot of fun with them all, no one was mean and even the girls — mostly girlfriends of the other boys — were nice. They never looked at you with judgeful expression but they talked and laughed with you. No jealousy, no hate — just fun and a bunch of new friends.

You never would have thought it would feel amazing to be shown off by a man who owned your heart. But with Bucky it felt just perfect.

After the party you spent a few more nights with Bucky and the others, they became your friends and everyone knew that the two of you really needed to confess your love for one another. Most of the time Bucky was either hugging you from behind or you were sitting on his lap. There was no just you or just Bucky — it was always you and Bucky.

The weekend before college started again Bucky had to go to his apartment again. He called you every night, sleeping with you on the phone or he just watched you half of the night because he still couldn't keep his eyes off of you. Heeas addicted to you, you were like his air — he needed you to live.

So while he had some talks with the team and the coach and also organized all of his school stuff, you did the same. Most of the time you wrote him messages and waited for his response. Until the sunday before school, where you felt like your heart was ripped out of your chest.

John: Hey, I'm sorry I broke up with you. It was a shit decision and I couldn’t stop thinking about you all summer break. I love you.

John: I know you love me too. You know there is no one who loves you, they all just play with you. You're pretty but they only want to fuck you, come back to me and let me make it better this time.

Sobs and tears wrecked your body, you couldn’t  believe him. He hadn’t  tried to talk to you the whole summer break and suddenly he wanted you back. And maybe he was right, no one else showed any interest in you, only John. But now you had Bucky, who spent all summer break with you, he showed you what it meant to be loved even though he was ‘just’ your best friend. Bucky could have asked to have sex with you the whole time but he never did, he just wanted to cuddle, to see you happy, so maybe John was wrong and there was someone who loved you without just wanting to have sex.

Bucky wrote you a few — a lot of messages — and tried to call you but you didn’t answer him. Maybe he wanted to tell you that he had enough of you, that he was going to be happier with someone else. You didn’t want him to hear your broken voice and you didn’t want him to see your tears because of John's messages.

You didn’t love him anymore, but the voices in your mind — the ones John could control so perfectly — screamed at you, that he was right. So you just wrapped yourself into a blanket and watched all the movies Bucky loved, making your heart ache even more, especially when his scent came into your nose whenever you moved because of the hoodie you were wearing – his hoodie.

Bucky told you that he would be busy all day with the coach and the team but it didn't stop him from sending one after another message, calling you every hour until he started to speak messages on your voicemail.

Bucky: Hi, babydoll. How are you? Just checking after you before the next meeting starts, would prefer to be cuddled up with you.

Bucky: Are you okay? Do you need anything?

Bucky: I asked the coach to make it short so I can come over but he has a lot more shit for us to do, I'm sorry.

Bucky: Fuck, are you alright?

Bucky: Please, answer me. I come over!

You read the messages but never opened the chat. Tears streamed down your cheeks while you stared at your background and the incoming messages. 10 missed calls: Bucky. You just couldn’t bring yourself to answer him, to tell him what was going on and you knew you couldn't find an excuse to tell Bucky.

Around half an hour later Bucky knocked at your door, calling out your name. He called out your name. Bucky always used your pet name, the one he gave you but right now he called you by your name. His voice was broken, Bucky sounded worried but you didn’t want to move, your body felt way too heavy.

After a moment you heard the familiar sound of the key in your door. You gave Bucky your keys a while ago so he could come home whenever he wanted. He stormed into your apartment, shrugging off his shoes and jacket before he literally ran to you into the living room. His heart broke at the sight of you laying there, crying and wrapped into his hoodie and a blanket.

“Babydoll!” He said, crouching down next to you. Bucky eyes roamed over your body, trying to find something that could have hurt you but when he didn’t notice anything he narrowed his eyes. He brought one of his big hands to your cheeks, wiping away the tears and a few strands out of your face. “Look at me please, what's going on?”

You hadn’t even noticed that you closed your eyes until he asked you to look at him. You inhaled deeply, your body shaking as you slowly opened your eyes. His blue eyes pierced into yours immediately, he looked worried. You had never seen him like that, almost broken. More tears fell down your cheeks as you looked at him, noticing the love and care that's mirroring in the eyes you fell in love with.

You shook your head slightly, you didn’t want him to hear your broken voice. Bucky got up, wrapping his arms around you to lift you and sit down with you on his lap. Your head fell down against his shoulder and you inhaled his scent, feeling the warmth of him against you. Bucky wrapped his arms tightly around you, pulling you as close as possible.

“You came…” you mumbled into his shoulder.

“You didn't answer,” he replied, leaning his head against yours. You felt a bit of wetness against the side of your forehead, noticing that Bucky was finally relaxing since he had you safe in his arms. You never thought he would cry because he was worried about you, but he did — maybe even relieved that you're fine.

“But the meetings. He could throw you out of the team,” you said, leaning back slightly. You looked into Bucky's face, seeing the soft smile on his face but also his red eyes. Slight trails of tears slid down his cheeks and you captured his face to wipe them away. Bucky tilted his head slightly, leaning more into your soft touch.

“It doesn't matter. Nothing matters when it comes to you, babydoll.” You inhaled deeply, leaning your forehead against his. “But I told him that my girl needs me and that I will win every fucking game this season when you're at the side in my jersey. You will watch the games, right?”

You chuckled softly, nodding. Bucky just came because he was worried, he didn't mind that he could be thrown out of the team — he came because he was worried. And you planned to go to his games anyway, but now it made your heart beat even faster. His girl. His jersey.

“Are you going to tell me what happened? You won't just ignore my messages and calls,” Bucky asked, his voice soft. His breath was warm against your lips and you closed your eyes for a moment.

“John wrote me…” you mumbled, feeling Bucky tensing. Without him asking you knew what he wanted to ask ‘What did he say? Did he hurt you?’ “He said… he said that he wants me back and that no other guy wants me anyway. Unless it's about sex, so you know…”

Bucky nodded, leaning back on the couch. He brought some distance between the two of you to look into your eyes. “Do you want to go back to him? Whatever your answer is, I…” Bucky trailed off, closing his eyes to take a shaky breath before he looked at you again. Something in his eyes switched and you squirmed slightly. “Whatever your answer is, I want you to know that you're really loved by me. And I want you for more than just sex. If you want to go back to John I will accept that, but I just— I want you to know that I love you, forever already and it will never change.”

Bucky's confession caused your jaw to drop open. You thought about a lot that he could say but hearing him confess his feelings for you wasn't one of them. It was the most obvious but you felt so insecure, so scared that it wasn't what you thought.

“I— You love me but you would let me go back to John?” You asked, you had so many thoughts but that was the first that came past your lips. Bucky nodded, a sad smile flashing over his face.

“I don't say I would like it. But I don’t want to be the barrier that stops you from being happy. When you love someone, you're willing to break yourself to see them happy,” Bucky said, another tear rolling down his face. He was scared to say those words, he was scared you would go back to John but he knew he had to accept whatever you thought was best for you. “I'm willing to give everything for you because I love you.”

You smiled softly, the urge to punch him grew about his words. You were never more happy than the weeks of summer break with Bucky. So how could he even think about breaking himself for you? “You're an idiot.”

“At least I'm your idiot,” he smiled softly, shurgging. You stared into his eyes, nodding while he brought your hand to his chest, pressing it down just above his heart. You could feel the steady rhythm of his heart against your hand and you sighed softly.

“I can’t give ya the whole world… not the one ya think at least. But I can give ya my world — our world. I can make everything shine for ya like I took every star and gave it to ya,” he mumbled, reminding you of what he said before summer break. “But I can tell ya, I'm so in love with ya. My heart, it's beating for you — only for ya. You're my world, everything for me.

You leaned closer to him, until there is barely an inch between the two of you. You smiled softly, his words and gesture making your heart beat faster and a warmth spreading inside of you. “When you're willing to break yourself for me because you think I would ever be happier with someone who isn’t you, then I have bad news. There is no one who makes me happier than you. And I'm willing to fix everything that broke when the thought that someone could be better than you crossed your mind.”

“Can I kiss you now, or do you want to tell me you love me in another way than you just did?” He asked, chuckling softly. You didn’t say those three words but you didn’t  have to. You told him that you loved him with so many more words but in the most perfect way he could have ever imagined.

You leaned even closer, allowing him to finally press his soft, plump lips against yours. You could taste both of your tears while he deepened the kiss softly. Bucky pulled you even closer, your hands wrapped around his neck and you played with his bun, making him growl playfully into the kiss.

After a moment you pulled away, panting softly. Both of you had heated cheeks and you leaned your forehead against Bucky's shoulder to hide your growing smirk. “I know that ya smiling,” Bucky said, his accent back and you melted into his embrace, giggling softly. Neither of you had to say anything about the kiss — it was indescribably perfect. “How long have you been in love with me already?” you asked, turning your head, still resting it against his shoulder. Bucky drew small circles on your back, a low chuckle escaped his lips.

“Forever…” he said. “I'm not sure, but it's like forever. And then before summer break, my heart broke when I saw you there so sad. I could have told you I love you, fucked you and could have helped you to get over John but I wanted to show you what love means before i confess my feelings. I could have told you at the beginning of summer break but I wanted you to know how it feels to be loved and cared for, how to treat the girl you love right. I wanted you to be just as much in love with me as I am with you.”

“Then congratulations, you made me fall in love harder than I thought I could ever fall in love. And I don't love John anymore, long ago I did but I don't, I just…” you trailed off, letting your fingers wander over Bucky's neck, admiring the goosebumps. “His words, they just hurt.”

Bucky grinned, having already a perfect idea for the next day. “Babydoll, i don't want you to feel that i just use you to make you jealous, because I really fucking love you, but…”

“I love you too, but what?” You giggled, wrapping your arms tighter around Bucky's neck. You kissed your way along his jaw, pulling him in another kiss before you listened to his plan.

— —

The next day — the first day of school you were walking next to Bucky from his car toward the building. He held your hand tightly and you felt a lot of people staring at you, maybe it was because of the man next to you, but maybe it could have also been because of…

“Y/N!” John shouted behind you and when you turned around his face was pale. He thought you were wearing the hoodie with Bucky's number and name on your back to make him jealous but when he saw the thick man next to you, holding your hand, his eyes narrowed. “Why are you wearing his name, why are you holding his hand?”

You didn't plan to have that conversation in front of everyone but you didn't mind it either. Bucky gave you a strength you never thought you had. With a soft smile and a look at Bucky you inhaled deeply before looking at John, smile fading away.

“I wear his name on my back because it belongs there. I hold his hand because he’s my boyfriend. And instead of being ashamed and hiding our relationship like you did, he likes to let everyone know that I belong to him. Bucky doesn't mind, that everyone sees us together.”

“I actually do love to let everyone know that this pretty girl is mine. She is mine and she will be forever. And ya, Walker, can fuck off. Ya didn't know how to treat her right but don't worry, I love her enough to make ya shit up to her,” Bucky growled before he grasped your chin.

It wasn’t part of the plan, you knew what he was going to do but you didn't care about the plan to just wear Bucky's hoodie to show John that you were with Bucky now. Bucky turned your head toward him, pressing his lips to yours and you sighed softly, wrapping your arms around his waist and pulling him even closer.

The people around you clapped and screamed about this news. Who watched Bucky knew that he had the biggest crush on you. Even Bucky's whole football team jumped and shouted like they just won a game. You heard John muttering ‘but he is my rival, and so are you now’ but you couldn't have cared less.

Bucky smirked against your lips. “Mine, all mine, babydoll. You belong to me, just like I belong to you, I know.” He chuckled and pulled you into another kiss, letting you know that everything he said was true. He loved you with his whole heart, his soul.

You could feel his heart against your chest, feeling it beating the same rhythm yours was beating. His words from the day before where he confessed his love echoed through your mind. And suddenly everything made sense, everything lit up — no fear, no doubt. Bucky loved you — he really loved you. This was different, it was more than you ever had with John, more than you ever felt for the other one. Buckys and your heart beated in the same rhythm, they were connected — you were connected. He had used his whole summer break to prove that he loved you, to let you see how much worth you had, how much you meant to him. And finally, he was able to let his girl know, to show you his real feelings. This man — your man, your Bucky — he belonged to you, just like you belonged to him. You would take care of one another, love one another like nobody else ever did. He showed you the whole summer break that you were his one and now the two of you had the rest of your lives to be just happy with one another. Your journey, your life together had just started — in the most perfect way ever.

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[rainbowolfe]

Why Aym and Baal?

They were, according to Shamura, supposed to be Narinder's replacement family/companions. Narinder never really got that memo, but like, what did Shamura expect? Relationships don't work that way. You can't just throw two strangers at someone and have them fill the void of a millennia-long relationship.

But the question of the hour is, why Aym and Baal? I don't think it's because they're cats.

It's implied Narinder had his own family (made up of cats or whatever he is) and chose the Bishops, a goofy assortment of non-mammals over those blood relations. So he's not exactly inclined towards members of his own species. So that doesn't feel like the reason why Shamura chose them. And it doesn't feel like the reason Narinder kept them.

I noticed that this photo from Jalala's journal had to have been of pre-servitude Aym and Baal, cause they're much younger. Baal's hair is shorter, they're both just wearing basic tunics instead of their signature robes, and Forneus isn't wearing her hat. So Aym's always looked a bit scuffed, and it wasn't the result of his time spent with TOWW in the Realm Beyond.

Which means Shamura saw him and went "wow that's literally Kallamar". Scar over one eye? Check. Messed up ears? Check. It would also loosely confirm that the boys were sent after they sealed Narinder, since Kallamar's ears wouldn't be scuffed before then.

It would be really funny if what Aym's looking at is Shamura, and this picture was taken 5 seconds before disaster.

Now, my first instinct was that Baal would be Narinder, and what Shamura hoped to recreate was Narinder's relationship with them and Kallamar. But that doesn't quite make sense. The new "family unit" already has a Narinder, so why would Shamura give him another?

Baal can't be filling Shamura's role for two reasons. One, as the head of the family, Shamura would be more likely to be Forneus (the role they are now placing Narinder in). If not Forneus, then the unseen father presumably taking this picture. Two, Shamura does not believe that Narinder loves them. That's. Kind of why they're doing all of this. So they wouldn't give him a replacement-Shamura either, unless they were feeling really really egotistical.

Which leaves us with two options.

And the correct one is Leshy. Leshy, whose core item is the red camellia. And whose symbol becomes a black heart when he's cleansed.

While we don't get to hear much from Baal, Heket's core traits are that she's a shit-talker and likes to eat. Leshy's core traits are that he's chaotic, but has an appreciation for/focus on the world around him. Smells, sights (when he could see), and sounds.

Baal is actually the politer of the two and, based on his recruitment dialogue ("So much color... so many creatures") he too is the worldly type. Also, Baal thanks Lamb for helping them. Leshy and Narinder are the only Bishops who thank Lamb in the end.

And, you know, if you take the order Shamura lists the family in into account, Leshy and Kallamar are the first and second sons respectively.

...

Of course, this can be taken one step further in another direction :3c I can't just leave Heket out of this.

Although Shamura only gave him Aym and Baal, theoretically what they saw was a four-person family unit that reflected their own... before Narinder entered the picture. I mentioned before that if Shamura isn't a reflection of Forneus, then they're a reflection of the unnamed father. (Who I suspect to be Paean)

Which means they saw Heket in Forneus.

Do you see the vision??

Cause this is a found family, age order doesn't necessarily matter to the familial hierarchy. Even if Shamura wasn't the eldest, they would still be the head (whether matriarch or patriarch) because their role is as the leader of the other three. Heket would be below Shamura, but above Kallamar and Leshy, because she serves as caretaker. She's even the one who takes charge upon Lamb's return, as the matriarch would do if something were to happen to the patriarch.

((Traditionally, while the father is seen as the protector and provider, his purpose is specifically to rule/lead the family. It is the mother whose sole purpose is to protect. Primarily the children, as their (often only) caretaker. But in traditional circles, it's commonly felt that the mother should sacrifice everything for the father as well.))

It would be particularly fitting because a lot of Heket's side of things revolves around sacrifice. How she's burdened by it, and seemingly how much she tried to do to find a better/different outcome. She's characterized as particularly family-inclined.

...

This would suggest that who Narinder valued the most in the family were Leshy and Kallamar. At least, it would suggest that's how Shamura saw it. But I'm liking this line of thought, so let's say their read is accurate.

Shamura saw that Narinder. Could also be Forneus. And Shamura loved Narinder the most, so...

Narinder and Heket's disdain for each other stems from them competing for the same role in their family: The matriarch. Shamura's second in command, and the boys' caretaker.

Not in a "raise them" type of way, at least not in Kallamar's case. But to guide and influence them. To be the one they trust and rely on. Heket has been that. And, intentionally or not, Narinder intrudes on that.

Narinder's the 'other woman' lmao

As a bonus:

Baal is aligned with his father (you get Tears of the Vengeful Father in exchange for him). Aym is aligned with his mother (ditto for Tears of the Merciful Mother).

If Aym = Kallamar; Baal = Leshy; Forneus = Heket; and The Father = Shamura

Then that dynamic is actually reflected in this Tarot Card. It pairs Kallamar with Heket, and Leshy with Shamura. :3

[4pfsukuna]

She want a big dawg

Inspo: that trend on tiktok and yall know the one. Somebody made a edit to him to this and i seen the vision. Plus the girlies been saying they tired of smutt so

warning: its purely fluff; 865 word

Being ex military Terry always felt like he was on guard— being a light sleeper, always scoping the scenery out, early morning 6 mile bike rides but there was just something about you that put him at ease.

You were so soft, gentle, always finding the humor in something even if you did have a bit of a dark sense of humor. The scent of coconut always lingered on your smooth skin and your lips stayed pink and glossy no matter how much you licked them. 

The way you thought you could command him to do something even being nearly half his size when all he had to do was give you complete eye contact and you would fold like a lawn chair. All you had to do was bat those pretty brown eyes up at him and that man would build you a house anything to keep that smile on your face.

And in the evenings he loves sitting on the porch with you more specifically he’ll come find you wherever you are in the house, wrap his large arms around you and carry you listening to you rant about your day, or whatever book you were reading or whatever you see on social media.

“She dont want no puppy she want a big dog” you sing for the fourth time since he picked you up holding you with just one arm as if you weighed nothing and he just chuckles at you when you place a bunch of kisses on his face.

“You better chill before you start something mama” he leaves a peck on your lips watching the way you look at him with so much love and admiration like he hung the sun moon and stars in the sky just for you.

Ignoring him you squeeze him tighter in a hug loving the way he kisses the top of your head pulling you closer inhaling his scent feeling the humidity kiss your skin the minute he walks to the porch swing. down south was always warm but nothing could beat the warmth of your embrace.

“Babe, you know how much I love you?” You smile up at him tightening your legs around his waist and he holds your face in both of his large palms pecking your forehead, then nose and finally lips.

“What silly little tic tac trend you trying to trick me into now?” He asks, reading you like an open book watching the way your jaw drops. He knew when you were sweet talking him and what for too— you had been singing that song that one specific part for the past two days. 

“Its tik tok! And what you think you know me or something?” You playfully scrunch your face up pushing your long dark curls that fell from your bun out your face. He chuckles, angling his head down to you watching you squirm instantly. No matter how long yall was together it was certain things he did that still gave you butterflies and made you nervous.

“Baby girl don't insult me, of course i know you” and he pulls you back to him tightly closing his eyes enjoying the sound of nature as day turns into evening. “And i know if you keep pulling away from me imma have to really pin you down”

Terrys love language actually was physical touch, loved having you in his arms, carrying you, waking up in the morning to you still cuddled up to him or when he’s making breakfast and your little arms wrap around his waist grumbling about him leaving you and the bed being cold without him. Or when it’s your turn to cook dinner and he steals kisses knowing you don’t like to be bothered when you cook, always successfully fishing when you swat at him for trying to steal food from the pot. So who were you to deny this time as if your love language isn't spending time together.

You finally settle in his arms, head on his chest yet halfway on his upper arm and he sinks further into the swing slowly rocking it back and forth, left arm running up and down your back unaware of your antics until something catches his ear.

“She dont want no puppy” the music plays and you try to sit up as if he made empty threats tightening his biceps around your shoulders, he definitely was not against pinning you down. “She want a big dawg”

Opening his eyes he looks down at you watching how contempt you look with him squeezing tightly around you not even bothered in the slightest only looking up when you see him looking at you through the camera.

“Ok ok im done go ahead put your old man music on” you giggle happily. you got your video and his muscles were wrapped tightly around you, even placing a kiss on his bare chest before laying back down. Ignoring your slick comment he puts on redbone by childish gambino and like clockwork your hands start running over his back and arms slowly and softly turning him into putty, unraveling his muscles slowly putting him at ease like you always do. 

[mikashisus]

PRIDE OF THE SUN

SYNOPSIS: being a child of apollo was a great honor... until you have a vision about a certain ginger that flips your entire world on its head.

PAIRING: ares kid!tartaglia x apollo kid!fem!reader

warnings: blood, angst

wc: 5.9k

notes: if u couldn't tell, this is a percy jackson au... anyw this whole fic took me the entire day yesterday to write- like no joke i spent 12 hrs on this shit... NEVER AGAIN *looks at drafts* nvm i might have to do this again in the future... u guys will see why soon enough. wink wink.

You hated this. Hated him. 

There you sat, on your ass on the hard ground with Ajax’s spear pointed to your throat. You sneered up at him. 

One wrong move and that spear would go straight through your neck. You glanced down at the sharp tip and the way it gleamed under the light of the afternoon sun. That only made it all the more menacing. 

Truthfully, you were a bit scared he might finish the job and shove the spear right through you. He didn’t… for obvious reasons. 

But you swore you saw him move just a tiny bit closer. You swallowed the fear you harbored in your heart, ignoring the way the organ thumped impossibly fast against your ribcage. You would never show weakness in front of him. You would never let him know you were scared. 

Revealing your weakness to him was like a rabbit leaping right into a wolf’s jaws. 

You refused to be the rabbit. 

As he was busy gloating over his victory, you sought an opening. With one swift kick, you knocked him down onto the ground. His spear struck your cheek, leaving a clean cut through the flesh. You barely felt it happen until a stinging rose from the area. 

Touching your cheek, you frowned. Blood coated your fingers. Eh, you’d live. It was just a scratch. 

You stood up and grabbed his spear, smirking at him as he looked up at you with a fire burning in his eyes. You loved beating down the Ares kids. They were nothing but arrogant bastards, and here you had the best one in camp on the ground with his own weapon pointed at his face. 

“Looks like I win, brute.” 

Your little distasteful nickname for him made a scowl appear on his face as he slowly stood up and spit blood out of his mouth. He stared at you, brows furrowed and eyes devoid of any life. That was what you hated most about him: his ability to look so fucking terrifying when he wanted to. Or maybe it was without even trying. 

He wiped the blood from his lip, the trail staining the side of his chin and his cheek. The earring that hung from his ear sparkled in the light of the sun, and you had the urge to ask where he had gotten it from. It certainly wasn’t from his father… or was it? 

You knew his double-edged spear came from his father, but you were skeptical on where he had gotten the earring. Did he even have that a few days ago? 

The scary look on his face made you falter for just a second when you whisked yourself back to reality. His breathing was hard, his chest heaving as if he was angry. Suddenly, you felt small and weak under his gaze. 

He wasn’t called the strongest child of Ares for nothing. 

“That was a dirty trick…” for a second, you thought he was serious, until, “I like your style, sunshine!” 

You scoffed, throwing his spear onto the ground and shoving past him. He quickly reached for it and scrambled after you, yapping in your ear all the way. You were beginning to get a headache from his voice. 

This wasn’t the first time he chased you around camp while you ignored him, and it definitely wasn’t the first time you two fought. According to the other campers, you “had a history” with each other. That made it sound as if you were once in a relationship, which couldn’t be further from the truth. 

You’d never date someone like him– someone so bloodthirsty for power and warfare that it drove them to the brink of insanity. 

Okay… so maybe he wasn’t insane (though, you firmly believed he was from that crazed look in his eyes) but he was certainly a warmonger. 

Like father, like son. 

It was true you had a history, but it wasn’t in the relationship type of way. It was the “I’ll kill you because you insulted me when we were kids” type of way. 

When you first arrived at camp, you were eleven years old. Back then, you wanted absolutely nothing to do with anyone or anything. Your own mother casted you out of the house, calling you spawn of the devil for being a half-blood, even though you knew she gloated when it came to the fact that she had a child with a god. You never understood her hatred for you when all she did was brag to her friends about your father. 

Out on the streets, with nowhere to go, you learned how to fend for yourself. With nothing on your person but the necklace your father had supposedly given your mother, you did what you could to survive. Your ballads and ugly crying garnered the attention of passerby, and with the little kindness they had in their hearts, they gave you money. You used that money for necessities, like food and water. But you also used it for things you wanted; like, that shiny guitar you saw in the downtown area’s music store. 

You saved up enough money to buy it within half a year, luring in passerby with your gift of song. Like a siren’s call, you drew them in, and you quickly learned how to utilize your demigod abilities to get what you wanted. When you bought the guitar and strummed the first chords to a song your mother always absentmindedly sang, that’s when your father appeared before you for the very first time. 

And that was how you wound up in camp a few days later. You were guided to the Apollo cabin by your own father, who was way more flamboyant than you expected, and after that, you were left to settle in. 

You watched your father disappear into a flurry of golden flames and a soft hum of a heavenly choir. When you turned to your bed, a drawing of a sun was etched into the fine wood of your guitar. Over time, there would grow to be more and more drawings left on your guitar, one for each time your father visited you. 

Settling into camp was hard. You were shy, and quiet, and the other kids in your cabin were a bit too outgoing for your liking, a true testament to your father’s personality. At first, it seemed as if you were the black sheep among your siblings. That was quickly proven wrong when a boy who was a year younger than you showed up at your cabin one day, staring at you with a menacing fire burning in his eyes as you played your guitar. 

You didn’t notice him right away, as you were too lost in the music and the homey atmosphere of the cabin to even pay attention to what was going on around you. That’s what it was like for you with music: you lost all sense of the material world as you plucked at the strings of your guitar, mentally transporting yourself to a different plane of existence. This was how you– most of the time, connected yourself with your father. 

Unbeknownst to you, you were also plucking at Ajax’s heartstrings. Ajax, the boy who was standing in the doorway, completely enraptured by your performance. His eyes lit up with an excitement no one had ever seen in him before. Then, he spoke, his words tumbling fast and loud out of his mouth like a roaring lion. 

You jumped, and you were forcefully pulled out of your meditation. The more he rambled on, the more you grew annoyed. You put the pieces together. He was loud; boisterous, bellicose, arrogant, and every step he took made the earth rumble beneath his feet. There was a fire that burned brightly in his eyes, one that screamed ‘Come at me if you dare, I’ll show you what I’m made of.’ 

There was no doubt in your mind: he was a child of Ares. 

Was every child of Ares this full of themselves? He even claimed he was better at the arts than you! How dare he! 

That was the first time you cursed him to speak in rhyming couplets for a week straight. You didn’t even know you could do that. When you asked your cabin leader about it, all they said was that you had a lot to learn about what it meant to be a child of Apollo. 

And ever since that day, you swore you’d knock Ajax off of his high horse. And boy were you determined to do so. 

There were quite a few things you could do that he couldn’t, and one of them was wielding a bow. 

You were the most skilled archer at camp. The first time you picked up a bow, you felt the wind rush past you and caress your form. You felt relaxed, at ease, as if you’ve been wielding a bow your whole life– as if you came out of the womb with it clutched tightly in your hands. 

Wielding a bow was Ajax’s weakness. It was the one weapon he could never master. You held it over his head like a vice. 

All your insults never deterred his advances, and you found your hatred for him growing with each passing day. But you never once gave up trying to prove him wrong. You would prove to him that you were more than what his siblings called you: a siren. You’d prove you were a worthy opponent, and that your skills were worth it in not only his eyes, but the entire camp’s. 

It was not just because you hated him, but because he utterly humiliated you on more occasions than you could count on both hands. 

As soon as you managed to get out of his reach for today, you let out a sigh of relief and decided to take a nice, warm bath. It was very much needed after a long day of combat training. 

You bid hello to your half siblings and made a beeline for the bath as soon as you set your bow down on your bed. When you sunk into the hot water of the bath, you felt as if you were ascending to the heavens. The water felt heavenly against your muscles that were previously screaming. Now, they ached as you gently massaged your calves. Your nose scrunched up from the soreness. 

You were on your feet for almost the entire day. It was no wonder your feet felt a little numb from all of the exercise. 

Leaning back against the tub, you allowed your whole body to breathe and relax. A knock sounded on the door, and your eye twitched. Just when you thought you had some alone time…

The voice of your half brother, Kaeya, sounded from the other side of the door. 

“Hey, sis, you in there? I heard there’s gonna be fireworks tomorrow to celebrate Diluc’s return.”

Diluc was Kaeya’s adoptive brother and a son of Athena. They weren’t on the best terms, but they still considered each other brothers. At least, that’s what you assumed. They’d probably drop dead before ever admitting it out loud. 

Regardless of how well they got along, you were also dragged into their little family. Kaeya was a few months older than you, and although that wasn’t much of an age gap, he still liked to call you his little sister. 

The first time he introduced you to Diluc, you were scared out of your mind. Diluc was intimidating and he towered over you. It took quite a while for you to be able to talk to him without being terrified of him. Once you saw how much of a big softie he was, the fear was quickly replaced with admiration. 

You admired how strong he was and how much he cared for his family.

You jumped up at Kaeya’s words. “What!? That’s tomorrow?” 

You heard him chuckle. “Yes, dummy. His pet arrived today with news of his homecoming, so Jean decided to hold a party. There’ll be fireworks!” 

Your love of fireworks was well known throughout camp. Although you weren’t a fan of loud noises, you had a deep love for fireworks and their ability to light up the night sky with their beauty. 

You wished you could shine as bright as they did. They shone like the sun, and you were a lover of the sun. 

Scrambling out of the tub and leaving your warm bath behind, you dried yourself off and threw on a new pair of clothes before exiting the bathroom. Kaeya stood outside, a knowing smirk on his face. Suddenly, you had a bad feeling about going to that party. 

Kaeya and that look was never a good omen. It always led to something bad. 

“What’s with the face?” He asked, following you to your bed. His was right below yours. 

“What face?” 

He crossed his arms over his chest. “That one. The one you’re making right now.” 

“You have something hidden up your sleeve, don’t you?” You squinted. “Whatever it is, I want no part of it!” 

He only snickered, which did nothing to help your suspicions. He climbed onto your bed, ignoring your protests to get off. You threw one of your stuffed animals in his face. 

“Get away from me!” You laughed, attempting to fend him off but it was no use. 

“I just want a hug from my baby sister!” 

You kicked him in the ribs, causing him to double over in pain. He slapped your foot, resulting in a loud ‘OW’ from you. 

The next day was the day Diluc was coming home. You asked Jean if you could help prepare, but upon seeing how much she already had done, you realized that she probably didn’t even need your help. Or anyone’s, with the way she was yelling at people to let her do all the work. 

“So, your brother’s coming back today, huh?” 

You sighed heavily. Of course, Ajax was here to bother you yet again. When would you ever be able to catch a break? 

“Yes,” you replied curtly. 

He frowned at your cold response. It wasn’t too out of the ordinary for you, but just once he wished you’d talk to him like you talked to your friends. 

He tried again. “I never asked how the two of you are related. Or do the two of you just refer to yourselves as siblings because you’re close?” 

“It’s none of your business.”

A sigh left your lips, and you grabbed your bow from beside you. Instead of answering his question, you walked off to go practice shooting. Ajax stared after you longingly, the pout on his lips resembling that of a kicked puppy. 

He wouldn’t give up in his pursuit. 

You couldn’t count how many arrows you ripped through targets in the last hour, but you sure were more aggravated today than you were the day before. Ajax continued to push your buttons, and you were running out of ways to calm yourself down each time. 

Meditation with music no longer worked unless you were completely alone, and now you couldn’t even focus entirely on the targets without thinking of his annoying face. One thing that helped was imagining the target was him and that your fire arrows were ripping right through his head. 

Kaeya asked you about your hatred for him once, and to his question, you replied, “All he ever does is humiliate me. All he does is shove his skills in my face and boast when I can’t do things that he can. I feel powerless when I’m standing next to him.”

You pulled your arm back again, ready to fire another arrow, when suddenly your vision went white. Not now! You thought, cursing out your own precognition as you watched future events play out. 

You assumed it would be the same old, same old of someone getting hurt and needing to be healed by one of your siblings, or a mellow talk between you and Kaeya, but it was nothing of the sort. You even assumed it would be a vision of Diluc returning home, or something that would happen at the party tonight, but it was neither. It wasn’t anything dangerous, either. 

Instead, what you saw was Ajax sitting down in front of you on the training grounds. It was dark outside, and the only light sources came from the lanterns hanging in the trees. You were staring up at him with the same scowl you always gave him, but the smile he always wore was nowhere to be seen. In its place was a frown, and in his eyes, the fire that always made itself home there has completely fizzled out. 

He reached a hand out to you, the side of his face dripping with crimson red blood. He looked about ready to pass out right then and there. Hesitantly, you took hold of his hand. He pulled you closer to him, wrapping an arm around your form. 

You weakly fought against his hold, grabbing onto his shirt tightly. Instead of pushing him away like you thought you’d do, you pulled him closer, until your lips were mere inches apart. He muttered something then, something that was indecipherable to you. 

After that, you looked into his eyes with a look you never thought you’d give anyone. Then, his lips met yours, and the vision faded into nothing. You gasped for air, clutching tightly to your chest as a figure in front of you held you by the shoulders. Their voice was frantic, distorted, as the ringing in your ears blocked out everything. 

When your vision cleared, you looked up, expecting to see the comfort of Kaeya’s periwinkle colored fluffy jacket, only to see the red of a certain someone’s scarf. The ringing stopped, and you were finally able to hear the voice you loathed. 

“Are you okay, sunshine!?” He asked, his eyes filled with worry. “I found you on the ground and you weren’t responding, so I called Chiron. He’ll be here soo–” 

You shoved him away from you. “Just stop!” You yelled, overwhelmed from the vision you just witnessed. Your body felt warm and sweat trickled down the back of your neck. You were shaking uncontrollably. 

He frowned. “I was just trying to help! You looked–” 

“I don’t need your help!” you retorted, your chest heaving as you finally let all your anger loose. “I never have and I never will! Why would I ever need help from the likes of you, anyway? All you do is belittle me!” 

His brows furrowed. “What? No, I never meant to–” 

“Just go away!” You shoved past him, leaving your broken bow on the ground. 

Diluc was happy to be back, but as he scanned the crowd of people at the party, he couldn’t find you anywhere. He could’ve sworn Kaeya said you were here. 

He tossed a glare in his brother’s direction, only to see Kaeya just as disappointed at your absence as he was. That was when Mona, one of your half siblings, approached them with a panicked expression on her face. She was breathless from running, and judging by her urgency, there was something wrong. 

Kaeya, already having a feeling it was something to do with you, stepped forward. “What happened?” 

“It’s (Name)!” Mona panted, taking a moment to wipe the sweat from her brow before continuing. “She had a vision. Ajax said he found her passed out on the ground after leaving the target area. She’s in the infirmary now–” 

Kaeya pushed her aside, setting off into a sprint towards the infirmary. Without a second thought, Diluc followed, leaving the party behind. 

When you came to, you were in the infirmary. You didn’t know how you got here, but all you could remember was the vision you had hours prior. Your head was pounding– a side effect of precognition, and your whole body felt hot. Did you have a fever? 

You sat up, wincing as the sunlight filtering through the curtains hit you right in the face. It did nothing but add to your awful migraine. Where were you? You took a look around, your vision a little blurry from just waking up. 

“Well good morning, sleepy head,” a smooth voice said, placing a hand to your forehead, “I was starting to get a little worried you wouldn’t wake up!” 

As soon as your vision cleared, you saw none other than your father sitting next to you, a wide smile on his face as he stared down at you. He retracted his hand and placed it in his lap. 

“Dad!? What are you doing here?” You questioned, your voice hoarse. 

You reached for the cup of water on the table next to the infirmary bed. You gulped it all down in seconds flat and let out a sigh of relief. 

Apollo crossed one leg over the other and placed his chin in his palm. “Why do you think I’m here, sunshine?” 

That nickname– that dreadful nickname. You used to like when he called you that, but not after Ajax started using it too. It sounded like he was mocking you whenever he addressed you as such. 

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” you threw the blanket over your head and curled into a ball, “so go back to Olympus, or whatever.” 

Your father chuckled. “You have to tell me everything you saw, sunshine. Otherwise, I won’t leave. And I think we both know that I am a very patient man.” 

A tense silence passed. You could still feel his presence in the room even though it was completely silent, devoid of a sound. For a few minutes, you were silent, biting your lip out of nervousness.  

Truthfully, you were embarrassed to tell him what you saw. It wasn’t something you wanted to share with your father of all people. And knowing him, he’d tease you to hell and back for it. You wouldn’t say anything, you decided. 

“Fine. If you’re going to be stubborn like that boyfriend of yours, then why don’t I tell him what you saw?” 

You jumped up, a terrified look in your eyes as your father laughed raucously. You glared at him. He was so vexing sometimes. You never understood a thing he said or did. Then again, you never understood a single thing any of the gods did. You probably never would. 

With a heavy sigh, you sat against the wall and explained your vision to him, avoiding his gaze the entire time. It was embarrassing enough you had to tell him, but it would’ve been worse if you were looking at him when you did so. 

After you finished, he hummed thoughtfully. “I see,” he muttered, “well, if I had to guess, my dear beloved daughter has a crush on this child of Ares.” 

“I do not! And I never will!” You immediately sputtered, feeling your cheeks heat up. 

He snickered. “I think you do. After all, that vision spoke for itself.” 

You shook your head, adamant that you didn’t harbor any sort of feelings for the ginger you claimed to hate all these years. There was no way you liked that crazed, warmongering lunatic. Your father was off his rocker. Officially. 

“It’s false. There’s no way I like that wackjob.” You crossed your arms over your chest. “All he does is fight people. He never stops. It’s so annoying. And don’t get me started on the way he smiles when he gets hurt, like he enjoys it! Who in their right mind is happy when they’re practically bleeding out!?” 

Your rambling took your father by surprise, but he was amused nonetheless. This was the first time you got so riled up like this, and all because of a boy. He couldn’t help but find teenage love so, so amusing– especially when you were the one experiencing it. 

“I think someone has a crush!” He said again, only for it to be shot down by you once again. 

“As if! I’d rather take a swan dive into the bottomless pit where Kronos resides than fall for that warmongering brute!” 

He sighed. “The prophecy always comes true, sunshine.” 

You shook your head. “Not this time.” 

Apollo stood up, placing his sunglasses back over his eyes before handing you something. He ruffled your hair. “You can’t escape fate, my dear. I think you’ll be in for a rude awakening.” 

With that, he disappeared into a flurry of golden flames, leaving you alone in the infirmary. On your lap sat a golden lyre, another gift that you would add to your collection of instruments and weapons. This one seemed particularly special, though you couldn’t place your finger on why. But your father’s words echoed in your head, even weeks after his visit. 

You avoided Ajax like the plague, ignoring him on most occasions, and making sure you didn’t have to interact with him on others. Until one night, you found yourself training with Kaeya. You excelled with bows, but you were also a swordmaster. Reestablishing a firm grip on your sun blade (gifted to you by your father), you swung your sword at your brother once more, clicking your tongue when you just barely grazed his arm. 

Your swords clashed, and with one final push, you knocked him onto his ass. His sword flung out of his hands, landing somewhere in the distance. You let out a small laugh, standing over him with your hand outstretched. He took it without a second thought, and you pulled him to his feet. 

“You’ve gotten stronger,” he told you, pride evident in his voice, “how much have you been practicing on your own?” 

“A hell of a lot,” you answered, giving him a lopsided smile, “Jean’s been sparring with me. She’s a formidable foe.” 

Kaeya laughed, retrieving his sword. “Indeed, she is. Though, it’s rare for you to take her on. Have you been missing your usual victim?” Of course he threw in a tease. He always did. 

You sighed. “I’ll admit it’s been a bit boring.” 

He raised a brow. “That’s it?” 

“What do you mean? What else am I supposed to say? You know I hate his guts.” 

He shrugged, though you knew he was hiding something. “I just thought, after your talk with father, you had a change of heart.” 

Your heart dropped to your stomach and you froze. “Dad talked to you?” 

“Briefly. He told me about your vision. I must say, that vision sure is revealing the desires hidden in your heart–” 

“Dad told you!?” You screeched, fear bubbling up inside of you. 

If your father told Kaeya, there was a chance he might’ve spilled the beans to Ajax as well. You didn’t know how you could ever face him again. If he knew, you’d have to launch yourself into the nearest pit of vipers and hope you never come back out alive. 

Your pride– and your dignity, were ruined. 

Kaeya patted your head. “Not the specifics,” he reassured, “just that it included a certain someone. And no, before you ask, he didn’t say anything to said individual. He only told me… and maybe Diluc.” 

You groaned before you let out a whine. The next time you saw your father, you were going to kill him. Well, you’d try to. 

“I better get back to the cabin,” Kaeya sighed, “I’d like to shower before bed. You coming back with me?” 

He hoped you’d say no, but only because he had a little plan hidden up his sleeve. 

You shook your head, much to his relief. “I’m gonna stay out here a bit longer. I wanna practice with more dummies.” 

He smiled at you, genuinely this time, and pulled you into a tight hug. “Alright. Just don’t wear yourself out. If you aren’t back in an hour, I’ll come and drag you back to the cabin myself.” 

You laughed and pushed him away from you playfully. “Yes, mom.” 

He laughed softly in return, messing up your hair again as you protested and swatted his hand away, before he set off back to the cabins. 

Your smile slowly faded as he got farther away, and you looked down at your sun blade. In the darkness, it looked like just any old scrap of metal, but in the sunlight, it glowed a magnificent gold. It was a sword many children of Apollo had used before you. That’s what your father told you when he had given it to you. 

Only the best warriors born from your father were given this sword. And upon their death, it would stop glowing and your father would take it back into his possession before giving it to the next child. When the sword was given to a new owner after the former owner’s death, it would glow brightly again, filled with the life force of whoever wielded it. 

You gripped the sword tightly in your hands. You could feel a small thrum run through your fingers. That was the sword. It was talking to you, bonding with your life force. Although it lost many wielders in its life, the sword always glowed again. Just like the sun, it always came back. 

The sound of footsteps drew you out of your stupor, and you saw the figure of your arch nemesis approaching you. You let out a sigh. What did he want? And at this time of night, too. 

He raised his spear wordlessly. A small, almost invisible smile pulled at his lips. He wanted a fight… again. But this time felt different, as if he had come to some sort of realization. It wouldn’t hurt to allow him this one fight, especially when he wasn’t opening his mouth. 

So, you raised your sword and positioned yourself into a fighting stance. A few seconds passed. The air was silent. Then, in a flash, the two of you dashed forward. The sound of clashing metal was loud in your ears, but you were focused– more focused and attuned to your opponent’s attacks than you’ve ever been. 

He grazed your arm, you hissed. You slashed his side, he let out a small sound of pain. Back and forth you went, minimally hurting each other and side-stepping and clashing. Finally, you let out a frustrated yell and swung your sword. You didn’t care where it landed, as long as you beat him at his own game. 

It happened too fast for you to notice. One moment, you were filled to the brim with adrenaline, and the next, you watched as he collapsed onto the ground, holding the side of his head. It all happened so fast… 

You panted breathlessly, your chest heaving as you stared at him in complete and utter shock. The adrenaline was wearing off, and you could finally move your body. You rushed forward, throwing your sword to the ground to kneel beside him, pulling his hand away from the deep gash on the side of his face.

Did you do that? 

“Let me see.” You said worriedly. You were experienced with wounds, as most of your siblings were healers. 

Before you could get a closer look, he knocked you back. The wind got knocked out of your lungs, and you could feel your head throbbing. You raised a shaky hand to your head and slowly sat up, groaning at the pain. 

Ajax stood in front of you, his face devoid of the smile he always wore, and the side of his head covered in crimson blood. Your vision cleared, and when you looked up, your eyes widened. You knew how the next events played out, you saw them for yourself. You gulped, your shock turning into anger as you glared at him. 

“I win.” He said flatly. 

You huffed, looking away from him. He knelt down in front of you, and you squeezed your eyes shut. You wouldn’t let this play out like it did in your vision. 

You wouldn’t. 

“There. We’re even,” Ajax muttered, “You pulled a dirty trick on me. I returned the favor.” 

You shoved him away, though he barely budged. “That’s just like you. Selfish, prideful. You always have to have the last say, the last laugh.” You spat. 

Ajax was quiet for a moment, studying you. You began to feel anxious under his scrutinizing gaze. You fiddled with the grass beneath your fingers. 

He held his hand out, and you stared at it. The fire in his eyes was gone, and he looked just about ready to pass out, but you could tell that he was fighting off the urge to close his eyes. You had the chance to get up and leave. You didn’t have to take his hand. 

Yet, you found yourself drawn to him. Like a moth to a flame. And so, you grabbed his hand. He held tightly onto yours, pulling you closer to him and wrapping his other arm around the small of your back. You still had the chance to push him away. To let him pass out here on the grass. 

But you couldn’t. You couldn’t move a single muscle. You gripped tightly to his shirt as he pulled you closer. Your brows furrowed as he opened his mouth. 

“Sunshine, I.. I’m sorry.” 

You certainly weren’t expecting that. “For what?” 

“For making you feel weak. Your brother told me…” 

You were 100% going to punch Kaeya in the face when you got back. 

“You’re not weak,” he told you, his voice firm, “I don’t have weak opponents. I have strong ones. Ones who I want to test my strength against because I know they’re gonna send me packing, but I still come back anyways. Because the only way I can get stronger is if I fight those who are stronger than me.” 

“I don’t need your–” 

“Would you just shut up and listen for once!?” He snapped, holding you tighter. 

That made you shut up instantly. 

He sighed heavily. “I’m not pitying you. I’m being sincere. I only ever fight against you because you’re strong, and I want to learn from you. My master taught me that every battle is worth it, that every person I fight is someone I can learn from. You’re one of those people. So shut up and realize your own strength. Your own worth.” 

You stared at him with wonder in your eyes. He held your gaze. 

“You’re the pride of Apollo’s children. Even your father has recognized your strength. Please, just see it yourself. See yourself the way I do.” 

“I…” You couldn’t say anything. You didn’t know how to respond, so you did the only way you knew how. 

You pulled him closer, pressing his lips to yours in a slow, gentle kiss. His lips were chapped, and you could taste the metal of the blood from the cut on his upper lip. His kisses were messy but gentle, as if you were fragile and he was handling you with the utmost care. 

When you pulled away, he leaned his forehead against yours. A smile erupted onto his face, so dazzling you felt as if Cupid had struck an arrow through your heart at that very moment. He let out a content sigh. 

“Do you see now?” 

“I don’t know…” you trailed off, “maybe if you kiss me again, I will.” 

He chuckled, his warm breath hitting your face. You smiled, caressing his face with your thumb. “And I thought I was slick.” 

You hugged him tightly, scared of letting him go now that you had him in your embrace. 

“(Name)... I feel dizzy…” 

“Oh shit!” 

You spent that night in the infirmary, nursing his wounds.

© 2024 mikashisus. do not plagiarize, copy, repost, feed to ai, or translate my works to any other platforms.

[rekino2114]

Fem. Gojo showing you her domain

You were lying on your bed mindlessly watching videos until you heard a tap on your window. You went in front of it, readying your cursed technique in case it was an enemy. After what happened with toji you were not going to take any more chances. You were very relieved to see it was just your girlfriend. You opened the window and let her come in

"Oh, satori, what are you doing here?"

"What? Can't a girl visit her boyfriend once in a while?"

"I meant why were you outside my window?"

"Your dorm is on the second floor, and I just got back from a training session. No way I'm gonna do all those stairs"

"It's like two flights, and you thought floating was easier?"

"Hey I got my technique I'm gonna use it"

"Whatever, anyway so why did you wanna visit?"

"Oh yeah, I got something super cool to show you"

She smiled brightly and pointed at herself in a dramatic manner

"Guess who just perfected her domain expansion?"

"....For real?"

"For real real, it took training and a lot of mochis to power up but I finally did it"

"That's so cool, tori. domain expansions are the peak of jujutsu, I'm so proud of you"

"Well, of course I'd be able to do it sooner or later, I am the strongest after all but thanks for the praise"

"Don't mention it"

"Soooo are you ready to see it or what?"

"Won't it hurt me?"

"Nah, it's a non lethal domain.......kinda"

"....that's not really reassuring"

"Come on, don't you trust me? It's beautiful to look at, it's gonna be a nice date place"

"*sighs* fine but if I die my ghost will haunt you forever"

"Don't worry, I'll never let anything happen to you"

You were slightly taken aback by her serious tone, but she quickly went back to her silly self as she smiled again, put her hands together, and disappeared, you sighed and waited for a few seconds before she reappeared with an embarrassed expression on her face

"S-sorry, I forgot you can't-"

"It's fine let's just go"

You went outside (using the door this time), and in the courtyard, gojo stood near you and held your hand

"You gotta keep holding my hand. If you don't, then you might be in a coma for a couple of months k?"

".....what?"

"Don't worry, it'll be fine. You can hug me if you're really worried, I certainly wouldn't complain~"

"*sighs* just get on with it"

She smiled again and took off her shades, revealing the blue eyes you loved to stare at, put them in her pockets, and did her domain hand sign with her free hand.

"Domain expansion: infinite void"

Suddenly, black filled your vision as you got transported into her domain, an endless plane of black with white spots, satori's grip on you tightened as she looked back at you

"Soooo what do you think? Pretty nice to look at isn't it?"

"Yeah, it's beautiful, but I guess it was guaranteed that a beautiful girl like you would have a beautiful domain"

"Eh, such a charmer. You're gonna make me blush if you continue"

You sat down, and she did the same. Her hand made its way up your body until it reached your shoulder. She pulled you into a side hug and layed her head on your shoulder

"You know I love you right?"

"Yeah you tell me that every day"

"No, I mean like love, love you. You're the best thing that ever happened to me"

"*giggle* really? The great satori gojo loves me this much? I'm honored"

"You should be, but seriously, after geto left, you're the only person I have left. Sure, I have shoko, but to be honest, I don't think she cares that much about me. Even if she did, she can't really understand me.....sometimes I feel so...lonely"

You silently side hugged her back as you saw her blue eyes become slightly lucid while looking around

"I guess it's fitting that my domain is a big empty void cause that's where I feel like I'm in sometimes........"

"Except when I'm with you of course"

You turned to see her smiling brightly and staring at you lovingly

"You're what keeps me going. You're someone that i know will never leave me. i love you so much"

"I love you too"

You two kissed passionately and looked at each other with pure love

"Alright, I think that was enough. If I keep my domain going for longer, I might get tired, I'll undo it now"

She did as she said and put her shades back on

"How about we go out to eat? It's almost dinnertime and there's a really good spot around here"

"Sure if we bring megumi and tsumiki too"

"Uh?..........dammit I forgot about them....do you think they'll be mad at me?"

"*sighs* you're such a mess of a mom, we can buy them some toys on the way home, maybe they'll forgive you then"

"Great idea, you're a life saver babe"

"It's nothing. Let's just go"

She dragged around as you brought the toys and food for your adopted children.

No matter what happened, you would stick by gojo's side, and she would, of course, do the same

[selarina]

True Blue

→ Gojo Satoru x Fem!Reader (Series Masterlist)

Chapter 3: The Party

Summary: Back home after your first year of university, you try to spend the bone-dry heat of summer with your boyfriend, Gojo Satoru, but restrictions prevail.

Content Warning: college bf!gojo, fluff, light angst, established relationship, birthday, implied parental issues, class differences, gojo is rich, casual violence (mentioned), social anxiety, reader and gojo are business majors (for now lol)

Word Count: 3.9k words

Author's Note: happy end of summer!! played cigarettes after sex the entire time i wrote this

Taglist: Open

In all honesty, you had expected Gojo to immediately whisk you away into a secluded corner of his house, and rid you of your clothes, blaming the summer heat or something just as ridiculous in the process. But instead, you were witnessing a far different side of him, it was baffling. Like he’s Jekyll and this version of him is Hyde in all his unfamiliar glory. He’s restrained, and poised. He’s not slinking his hands about as he speaks, they remain steady. It was jarring, to say the least. 

He was speaking of politics— and a joke? They’re all laughing, so it must be. 

You aren’t really listening, you’re far too busy raking through your eyes the crowd, watching the audience he’s garnered in all their collective gaze. It was such an odd thing to witness, the way they all hung onto his every word, as though something unseen and magnetic held their vision in place. 

You understood them though in a way. Of course, you did.

A waiter, dressed in a two-piece suit, quietly delivers another bottle of whiskey to the people near the couch. You hadn’t touched a drop, as you found yourself far too anxious to trust a drink in your hand or in your body. The crowd made you feel exposed, you felt seen in every muscle you moved. 

Your eyes flit out to the only open window in the big hall — a breeze coming in through there, and you felt you wanted to walk eastward towards it and walk through the soft twilight of the balcony. But you refrained, it would be impolite. You weren’t sure what kind of rules were in place in this crowd, but you could tell it was different from what you were accustomed to. 

You felt severely underdressed for starters. That was your tell. There seemed to be an unspoken theme you didn’t know about but perhaps that’s your fault for dropping by to surprise. Why would Satoru indulge in themes for a party if he didn’t know you were making it too? It makes sense, but you wish he had slipped out just once, so you could have prepared. Now, you felt severely plain when standing beside the fancier dolls in the room. 

A warm hand enveloped yours, pulling you from your thoughts. You turned, your eyes meeting the face of a slender woman. Her face looked ghostly, otherworldly, with a complexion of powdered milky white. 

“Mrs. Gojo,” you recognised.

“Hello, dear,” she smiled. This marked the first time you were seeing her in person. You had seen her only in photographs before, countless of them. Satoru adored his mother. She seemed like a worldly and kind woman somehow. You could tell at just first glance. 

"Hello," you replied, your voice catching as though nerves had tangled in your throat.

“You missed the memo, it seems,” she remarked, though there was no sharpness in her tone, merely a simple observation. It didn’t seem like judgment, but it still left you a bit embarrassed.

“Yeah,” you laugh an artificial laugh. "This was all very last minute on my part, so I wasn’t aware of the theme."

“No worries at all,” she reassured you, a poshness in her voice. Her hand rubbed softly against your bicep. “I could dazzle you up if you let me— a few accessories, perhaps a hairclip. That’s all it takes if you ask me.” 

The thought of being alone with Gojo’s mother unsettled you, but you nodded with a polite smile. “That’s very kind of you. I would love that.”

—

“So, Satoru tells me you’ve been seeing each other for about a year,” she begins, her voice mild but intent.

The interrogation begins, you think cruelly.

“Yes,” you answer, sitting before the mirror as his mother works your hair into shape. She promises it’ll be lovely, and you’ll have to trust her because, from this angle, you can’t see much of anything. “Almost a year in three months, if I’m not wrong.”

“Ah,” she lets out a soft laugh. “That’s reassuring.”

“What is?” A pause. “Ma’am,” you add, too quickly, and too late.

She hums, amused. “You pick things up fast. It’s just, well, he hasn’t kept a relationship longer than the milk in our fridge, so I suppose I’m just surprised. And relieved, really. I’m sure he’s told you about all his past escapades.”

“He has,” you answer with a small, strained laugh. “I’m just happy to be of service.”

“All done,” she announces, patting your hair lightly. “Would you like to see?”

“Yes,” you reply, though bemused. “But I can’t really see the back of my own head.” You try for humor.

“I’ll take a picture for you, dear. Hold still now.”

Click.

“Here,” she brings her hand forward as your eyes focus on the somewhat blurry picture in front of you. The phone looked ancient. For someone with such a huge manor, you would think they could afford the latest, but you knew how old people were – stubborn and for the routine of things. You think you’ll be one of them too. Back to the picture it looked beautiful, she put a gold hair net thing on your head, and it just elevated everything about your appearance even if you couldn't see it yourself 

“It’s… beautiful. Thank you, Mrs. Gojo.”

“You’re very welcome,” she says softly. “Now I really must head back, but I think you can take a minute for yourself before rejoining the others.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to be rude.”

“Nonsense,” she says, sternly. “If the birthday boy’s partner wants to stay in the room for a minute longer she can. Don’t worry about the crowd, I’ll have their tongues if they’re mean to you.”

The casual violence of her words is almost shocking, delivered so gently. It makes sense, though—like mother, like son.

“Alright,” you murmur, grateful. “Just a moment.” You watch her retreat, leaving you with your thoughts.

—

You took your minute, and then, as if your body had conspired against you, you drifted back to the party. Slowly, like a sloth, you moved until you reached the first approachable figure and struck up a conversation. The woman—tall, immaculately put together—turned with a ready smile. It was just too easy — this woman was a natural conversationalist. She spoke of her years at the bank, and just as easily got you to confess your future plans of assisting your mother, of starting your own business — what a miracle of a woman really. 

She advised you too. It was really not all that informative, just things you’ve already heard before, but you found yourself grateful nonetheless. If only because she relieved the stress in your muscles, they were lax now. 

“Mrs. Lee,” you hear a familiar voice from behind you. “I see you’ve met my beautiful, breathtaking girlfriend.” He finishes as his hand comes to grab your own, before placing a kiss on the back of your hand, eyes intently watching you. 

“Oh my,” the lady in front of you gushes on your behalf. “Young love in all its glory. You’ve got a remarkable girlfriend here, Gojo. She’s ambitious and sharp. You better be kind to her, you twerp.”

He laughed, that easy sound you’d heard a thousand times. “I try my best, Mrs. Lee. Now — Do you mind if I steal her away, I haven’t seen her in years.”

And just like that it was just the two of you — not in actual terms, but with Satoru, your mind tended to blur out the rest. 

“Hi,” you said, your voice soft, like you were waking from a dream.

“Hi,” he says, smiling back lazily.

“Hi,” you say again. Not really sure what to say next.

“Hi,” he said again. “You’re here.”

“Yeah, I thought I’d surprise you. Get the upper hand for once.”

“You’ve always had the upper hand,” he said like it was a fact too obvious to contest.

“That’s not true,” you reply, defiant. 

“It’s true, and it will always be true. Now give your poor tired boyfriend a kiss.”

And so, you do. Despite the crowd. 

The kiss wasn’t deep, restrained in a way that was unlike him. It seems Satoru may have found some shame after all. He stops kissing you but doesn't move further away from your lips. You can feel his breath upon your face, right on the side of your nose.

“Hi,” he says. 

“Hi,” you say back, your hand still rooted in his hair, at his nape. “What tires my poor boyfriend anyway?”

“Why? You willing to fight the dragons.”

“The dragons wouldn’t dare fight me anyway.”

He chuckles. “No, ma’am. They wouldn’t.” A pause as his gaze lingered. “I like the gold in your hair,” he said, voice lowering. “Noticed it when you came back in.”

Your hand reached up, brushing the adornment lightly. “It’s your mother’s. She offered to put it on me.”

His eyes light up immediately. “She did? Wait — You met my mother already? I wanted to see you meet her. I can’t believe I missed it,” he frowns. 

“Aw,” you say. “I can always tell you how it went.”

“How did it go?”

“She saved me — this crowd is…” You look around, gathering all the prim and poised figures. 

“Pretentious?” he suggested, blunt as ever.

“I was going to say intimidating,” you corrected him, though his assessment wasn’t necessarily far off. You liked it though. The drama, the properness of it all — there was something about it.

“Please,” he scoffed. “They’re all insufferable, a bunch of stuck-up, overindulged jerks. Wine’s good, though. Need me to get you a glass?”

“Satoru,” you said, cutting him off, “I got you something. For your birthday.”

His face shifted, softer. “You being here is all I need. Don’t need anything else, this makes up for five birthdays at least.”

“You’re being dramatic again,” you say.“I’ll give it to you after the party—if you can find time for me. But it’s okay if you can’t. There’s always tomorrow.”

“No,” he says, bending down to leave a soft kiss against the edge of your mouth. “I’ll make time.”

“Okay,” you murmured. “Now go talk to that couple over there. They’ve been staring for ages—it’s creeping me out.”

He salutes you as he makes his way over and across.

—

"Ready?" you ask, seated behind the wheel, the evening air softly settling around you. “So, where are we going?”

“Nowhere special,” you replied, turning the key with a little growl from the engine. “But I’d still rather not tell you until we get there.”

He tilted his head, mock suspicion painted on his face. “The suspense, the mystery, the build-up…” He gasped dramatically. “You’re trying to steal my job, aren’t you?”

“Guilty,” you say, dry as dust.

“There can only be one of us,” he quipped.

“Well, you can just kill me. Skin me. Wear my face as your own and pretend until you’re caught.” The words spilled out, strange, unsettling, even to your ears.

“Why are you like this?” he asked, his tone flat, but there was amusement beneath it.

“I really, truly don’t know,” you replied, bewildered by the way your mind wandered into strange corners.

“I love it,” he says, sounding a little too close to the words you’ve been fearing, so you brush it off with a chuckle. 

“So, how long until we get to this ‘nowhere special but surprise’ place?” he asked, settling into his seat, limbs sprawling too long for the cramped space. You hope this ride doesn’t cause his back to ache.

“Half an hour, tops,” you said. “You can pick the music.”

“What?” He gasps again, mockingly scandalized. “Pinch me, so I know this is real.”

“It’s your birthday,” you shrug. “It’s the least I could do.”

He grinned — languid and lazy — a smile that makes you want to hit the brakes, stop the car, and kiss him stupid. But alas, you were a sane woman, on a mission so you drove on.

A few turns, a handful of bends in the road, and you’re there. Somewhere along the way, you’d asked him to cover his eyes, and, with a rare compliance, he obeyed—though not without protest. Now, as the car halts, he’s still singing a Lady Gaga song, his eyes squeezed shut for your benefit.

And so when the car halted as you helped him step out. 

“Ta-da,” you say, monotone. “The closest beach to the town — probably one you’ve been to a million times.”

He doesn’t deny it. Instead, he says — “The sunset looks really pretty.”

“It does,” you say, turning to look at the pink, orange hues in the vast horizon past the sea. “It’s really pretty.”

“So, this is my gift? I could die a happy man.”

And you think, to your surprise, that he actually means it. There’s something startling in the way he says it—so earnest, it unnerves you. “No—what do you take me for?” you mutter, pulling the picnic basket from the backseat, heavy with fruits, yogurt, chips, and a meticulously folded blanket, the kind you only bother with for these sorts of things. "I got you something, but help me set up first."

He takes the blanket, and sets it up for the two of you to sit, as you grab his present from the backseat. Then he drops down onto the left side, legs sprawled, arms braced behind him as he stares out towards the sea.

You seat yourself beside him, since you are in a dress, you try to bend and adjust so you aren’t flashing the outside world with your indecency, despite your shorts beneath the dress. 

“So…” you start, voice feeling too quiet against the roaring waves, as you hand him the jar. “Here’s your gift.”

His fingers brush against the glass, and you watch his eyes lower, briefly lingering on the cold surface, before lifting them to meet yours. “You didn’t.”

“I did,” you said. 

And you did. You’d made the ridiculous decision to indulge his craving, driving almost two towns over to Al’s for his favorite cookies. Four, if you counted the miles from your grandmother’s. And all before noon, as if there weren’t a hundred better ways to waste a morning.

But you did. You did because you had decided the necklace you got him didn’t measure up. Not when the one he gifted you for 6 months, had real gems on them. 

You hope this makes up for it. Not materially, but the sentiments at least. You swear when you’re rich, you’ll splurge on this boy all you can, but for now, you cut your losses. 

“Thank you,” he says, setting the jar aside. “For driving all the way there.”

“The town’s so creepy and dead,” you say. 

“It is, baby. It is.” He leans in, his lips brushing against yours. “And you drove there. For me.”

“It’s whatever,” you mumble, pulling back with a small smile. “Let’s eat.”

The waves keep crashing, the sun low in the sky, casting a honey-gold light over everything. You hear the slow crinkle of the jar’s lid being unscrewed. Then his laugh. It makes you mush. It always does, but it feels heavier now somehow. You feel there’s something about being in the ocean that charges the atmosphere with something different, perhaps that is what’s it.

He pulls out one of the cookies, breaks it in half, and hands you a piece. His fingers brush against yours again. You accept graciously, as the two of you eat in utter silence, barring the sound of the waves.

“You spoil me,” he murmurs, taking a bite. His eyes never leave yours. 

You smile faintly, but it doesn’t reach your eyes. “You deserve it,” you say, leaning back on your elbows, your body sinking into the blanket. You tilt your head, gaze tracing the horizon where the sky meets the water, a blurry, infinite line. 

His hand finds your thigh, his thumb moving lazily in circles against the fabric of your dress, as he leans back onto his elbows too, to kiss you. This time it’s deep. His lips are hard on your mouth, as though you feel every contour of the molding of his mouth moving against yours. 

“Hi,” he whispers against your lips. 

“Hi,” you reply, voice barely there.

���Thank you for the gift,” he says. “No one’s been this good to me in a while. You put a lot of time into this.”

You don’t say anything. Not sure what one can say without being cheesy. But if you were to say anything, you’d say it was nothing, not when you can see him beaming down at you like this, all dazed, all into you.

“I love you,” he says then. And your heart flits harshly against your chest. 

“What?”

“I wanted— I’ve been wanting to say it for a while,” he says, his thumb brushing against your hips. “In the car, and 2 months ago when you slept over after mid-terms. But I didn’t want to freak you out.”

You blink, your pulse quickening, the moment hanging between you, suspended.

“You don’t have to say it back,” he says, his voice careful, and guarded.

“I do,” you say, the words tumbling out. “I do love you. I love you.” You mean it, and it terrifies you a little, but he’s smiling now. 

“Oh,” he grins, as he smushes into you, mouth first, tasting like salt and something sweeter.

“I love you,” he says again, voice low against your skin.

“I love you,” you say back, giggling. 

And then, he shifts—his body pulling away from you, the sudden absence of his warmth as chilling as the winds that whip across the beach. He sits up, dragging you with him.

“I have something else to tell you,” he says, and there’s a shift in his voice too—serious now, something grounded in his tone.

“What is it?” you ask, cautiously setting your mind for this, since he’s sounding serious in tone and stature. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” he starts, hesitant, like he’s picking his words carefully. “I might drop out of college.”

“What?” The word feels like a punch, sharp and sudden. “Why?”

“I don’t care for it,” he says, his voice too casual, too careless.

“You don’t care for... an education?”

“Just business,” he clarifies. “I don’t really care about it. I want a change.”

Something mean, something bitter starts to rise in you, but you bite it down.

“A change to what?” you ask, calmly — your tone now guarded, your expression carefully neutral.

“I don’t know,” he says, and it’s the ease with which he admits it that grates at you. He doesn’t know, and he’s fine with not knowing. You don’t understand.

“What do you mean? You must want something else if you don’t want to do business, right?”

He turns to you then, and realises he should’ve predicted this, really. You loved plans, and you loved sticking to them. And this was was anything but that. He had a plan and he doesn’t want it. That’s bad enough. And now he doesn’t even have a new plan.

“Not really. I don’t know — I don’t want to do business, that’s all I know,” he says again, frustration creeping into his voice.

“Well,” you say, a little colder now, “you should probably figure that out.”

“Oh, really? Thanks, I had no idea that’s what I had to do.”

“Hey,” you say, softening your tone, trying to pull the edge out of the conversation. “I’m just trying to help. I just don’t like this situation for you.”

“I’m doing fine,” he says, trying to assure you that he hadn’t completely lost track of reality. “Dad hates this, but apart from that, no one really cares. There are so many options. I could change courses, take a gap year, intern—lots of things. You’re the only one bothered besides him.”

“Right,” you say, and that bitterness rises again, sharp and acidic in the back of your throat. “I forgot—you’re a Gojo.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he says. 

“It means you can drop out and still be fine. So I don’t have to worry about you.”

“So you don’t care that I’m dropping out?”

"I care, Satoru," you say, but it feels as though your voice is coming from some distant place now, a place he can’t reach. "Apparently, you don’t. You’re making this decision like it’s nothing."

“I’m not,” he snaps. “I’ve been unhappy for a while with the course. There’s no point in doing something I hate.”

“But to not have a backup plan? How can you make a decision like that?”

He looks at you, and for a moment, it’s like he doesn’t understand. You see the distance between you—his nonchalance, your need for structure—stretching wide.

“Can we— I told you because it’s a big decision. I’ll figure it out by the end of summer,” he says. “But I wanted to let you know. I expected the judgement but trust me a little?”

“Okay,” you say. “I just — I would never be able to do what you’re doing.”

“I know, and I could never do what you’re doing. It would kill me.”

“Okay,” you say, suddenly feeling shitty. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I trust you.” You bend forward leaving a kiss at the edge of his lips.

You sit in silence then — the wind getting colder and colder against your skin. The food growing staler, and it’s almost night now. The sun has set and you sit there, serene now, listening to the waves. 

You glance at him. His gaze fixed on the horizon, the sea’s dark expanse stretching out, infinite. His hair ruffling gently in the wind, and you notice the goosebumps pricking at his arms. It’s time.

“We should head back,” you say. “Your mother has a dinner planned, doesn’t she?”

He groans, his head falling back. “I don’t want to go.”

“But food,” you say simply, knowing that all the food in the world wouldn’t excite him to meet his family, and his extended family for a night of festivities. 

He turns to you, his eyes catching yours in the fading light. “I don’t want to go,” he repeats, quieter now, more real. “You’ll be busy with work soon. You’ll forget all about me.”

“Always so dramatic.” You move now, your limbs feeling heavy from the lack of motion. You move and straddle him now, his hands move to your waist in an immediate response. “You’re very hard to forget, Gojo Satoru.”

“Say more,” he says, smiling, beaming through his teeth. His cheeks alight red.

"No," you say, leaning back. "We should go."

"I’ll move if you give me compliments on the way back," he bargains, like a child.

“Or I could leave you here,” you say, titling your head. “All by your lonesome.”

“What a cruel, cruel woman you are,” he says, feigning a frown again.

“Let’s go,” you say now, feeling more and more convinced to stay here.

“Let’s just stay here forever,” he says, ever so ambitious. There’s a strange sincerity in his voice, to do the impossible.

You laugh, a brief, fleeting sound. "We wouldn’t survive long." You peer into the nearly empty picnic basket. "On just... Pringles."

"I could fish," he suggests, smiling again, "like in The Blue Lagoon. Build you a house out of driftwood.”

“You’d do that for me?”

“Yeah,” he says. “I’d try.”

[silentmagnolias]

Uninvited

Choso

Wc. 2501.

Summary: Sweet, utterly down bad Choso finds a pair of your panties falling out of your tote bag that you’d left in the bathroom floor of his apartment. What happens when you return unexpectedly to find him in the most compromising of positions?

Cw. Panty sniffing, masturbation.

“Ah, fuck I forgot my bag up at your place.,” you whined and cursed a little at the realization you’d left your bag—with your phone and clothes up the at the apartment Choso and Yuji shared.

Yuji snorted in response and Megumi raised a brow at your forgetfulness. You’d spent the majority of the summer with the trio (and occasionally, Yuji’s older brother, Choso) beating the heat in the complex’s ample swimming pool or galavanting around Tokyo on days you all weren’t on missions. Being an older, more experienced grade-one sorcerer, the trio had kind of unofficially adopted you as a mentor-turned-friend.

“I’m positive you’re going to have dementia by the time you’re 35.” Yuji joked from his place in the pool, attempting to swim on his back, earning a swift flick to the Adam’s apple from Nobara.

“You’re one to talk, you dunce.” She spat and Yuji instantly choked, righting himself in the water to throw her a petulant glare and rub a hand over the sore spot where she’d flicked him. You shook your head at the resulting banter that broke out between the two and snorted at the ‘please-god-make-it-stop’ glance Megumi threw in your direction. You snagged Yuji’s beach towel from the off-white deck chair and wrapped it around your middle, giving Megumi a sympathetic mock salute.

“I’ll be back!” You called over your shoulder and set off toward the apartment to grab your bag— and hopefully sneak a bite of whatever Choso had been cooking whenever you’d arrived earlier.

══════════════════

From the moment you had left to the pool with the younger sorcerers, Choso’s mind was on you, wandering to the way you’d stood so closely to him in the kitchen when you’d first greeted him— like you always did when you’d visit. You looked out for his little brother after all, so naturally he’d like you too. Maybe more than like. It was a warm, pleasant closeness that bloomed slowly over time, always casual. Always sweet. As he finished up in the kitchen, he allowed himself to think of something he’d shamelessly found himself indulging in as of late when he was alone.

A vision of domestic bliss— a sweet thought of you in the kitchen with him, wearing one of his T-shirts helping him learn to bake some horrendously sinful American recipe you liked to talk about.

Biscuits? Yeah, those.

Those are good. His eyes glazed over as he could practically see you in his T-shirt, smiling sweetly like you always did and talking to him as you sat on the countertop. He knew he was in trouble but he knew better than to jeopardize the friendship you’d built together. So he allowed himself to just stand there, head cocked to the side with his eyes glazed over, daydreaming of the things you’d talk about together sitting on that countertop.

He was so lost his reverie, he’d almost let the soup he had simmering boil over, but he fumbled and caught it just in time before turning the burner off and setting the pot to the side. He figured everyone would be up soon anyway, so might as well leave it out anyway.

His thoughts wandered once more to the way his T-shirt would probably hit just at the middle of your thighs and would ride up revealing the faintest slivers of the plushest parts of your upper thighs. He shivered at the thought.

God, he loved your thighs. Especially the way they looked in that bikini earlier... He cursed himself slightly for being too shy to join you at the pool but he couldn’t risk…. That happening. His gaze traveled down to the way his cock hung heavy in his pants, half hard already just thinking about your thighs. Thinking of the way they’d feel beneath the palms of his hands. The way the tops of them would pleasantly squish and give with every firm squeeze of his hand.

He swallowed thickly at the thought.

That was one physical aspect of his humanity he held immense disdain for. He felt pathetic popping a boner at the mere thought of your body and what made it worse, is lately it had become something that would be impossible to ignore until he relieved himself. Often, the nights you visited ended that way, with him in his bedroom whining and fucking his hand until he made the biggest mess of himself.

But even that wasn’t relieving. No.

No.

He needed more— something To make himself feel better.

How frustrating.

With a shaky sigh, he made his way to the restroom to grab the new bottle of lotion he’d purchased just for this purpose only to stop in his tracks at the sight of your tote bag on the floor. Your tote bag that had your clothes haphazardly falling out of the bag— including a pair of skimpy grey, rib knit panties.

Oh.

Choso’s breath quickened at the litany of impure, very human thoughts running through his mind coupled with an undertone of deep shame that almost made him leave the bathroom and opt to jack himself off with spit instead.

It wouldn’t hurt to just look, right? To feel them..

His hands twitched at his sides in the open doorway of the bathroom as he contemplated his actions.

But he couldn’t stop himself from wondering as he stared at the skimpy fabric of your panties— how you smelled there. He loved your scent, always lingering for an extra moment when you’d hug him just to breathe deeply and relish the soapy, vanilla vibe you filled his nose with—The smell of you permeating his soul when you were near. That had to be nirvana.

He gulped down the remainder of his trepidation and decidedly stepped inside the bathroom, shutting the door in a hurry and sitting himself down on the closed lid of the commode.

He reached down gingerly to grab the ruddy old tote bag and carefully sifted through its contents as if he were performing the most delicate task. He pulled out your T shirt and instantly brought the soft cotton to his nose, inhaling deeply, a low rumble of pleasure emanating deep from within his chest.

The smell of you was like an instant balm to his nerves, drowning out remaining apprehension he had in his mind. He could always wash everything, making sure you came back up from the pool to a warm meal and fresh-out-the-dryer clothes.

He inhaled greedily again, his cock now aching and his heart bounding in his chest from the excitement of the situation. He’d never done anything like this before.. but you smelled so good.

Eager for more, and more than a little high from his actions, he reached straight for what he’d really been curious about— the panties. They were surprisingly light and soft between his fingers, the lace trim and rib knit material providing deliciously contrasting sensations against his fingertips. He let out a shuddering breath as he held them up, inspecting them, taking in and imagining the thought of them snug against your hips and ample bottom. Against the space between your legs. It was enough to make his mouth water.

Without thinking about any further, he brought the material to his nose to inhale and he was most definitely not disappointed. His eyes rolled back in his head at the musky, heady scent of you that enveloped him. This felt like an entirely different level of wrong, but he couldn’t help himself. He was curious and completely down bad for you, that he couldn’t deny.

His breath came in gasps as he practically jerked his pants down to free his rigid cock from the fabric’s confines. He was already practically oozing pre-come from his flushed tip and his hips twitched and rolled of their own accord from excitement, a broken rhythm that demanded him give into his desire. So he did.

Choso bargained with himself that he’d do what he needed to do and rush everything straight to the washer so that you’d have fresh, warm clothes waiting for you by the time you got back. You’d be none the wiser.

Hopefully.

He spit quickly into the palm of his hand, wanting to waste no time and wrapped his hand around his cock to give himself what he craved. He set the pace, rotating his wrist in a way he knew would bring him to the heights he wanted to reach and crushed your panties against his nose once more, groaning low in his chest as the scent of you overtook him.

Something about adding the smell between your legs to this shameful little routine of his made him feel like a complete mess in no time at all. He was filthy for this but he didn’t care. He wanted, no, needed you in any way he could have you.

Your scent pushed him forward in an almost animalistic way, driving the tension in his belly to an almost unbearable level. He never knew he could feel this good by simply smelling you while he did this..

Choso fucked up into his hand aggressively with nothing but you on his mind, his toned abdominals flexing with exertion as he chased his high. He let his head fall back, still holding the fabric of your panties to his nose like a man possessed. His jaw had fallen slack now and a series of desperate, pathetic whimpers fell from his lips as he greedily inhaled you, committing your scent deep into his memory.

Pathetic. He was pathetic.

But so, so close.

A part of him was ready to get this over with, just so he could be in the clear from potentially getting caught so he could wallow in shame in peace but another part of him.. another sick, twisted part of him wanted this moment to never end. He wanted to feel good and he wanted YOU to be what made him feel good— even if this was all he could get.

Choso’s chest heaved and his cock leaked with every bounding pulse of his excitement. The pleasure was building white-hot deep in his belly in a way that was almost overstimulating.. but he couldn’t stop. Not yet.

So close.

In a split second moment of filthy desperation and bid for closeness he’d likely never get, he brought his other hand— and your panties down to wrap around the aching head of his cock. A dark splotch quickly bloomed against the grey fabric from where he practically dripped and he pulled his bottom lip through his teeth imagining himself making a mess of those pretty panties while you wore them. Yes. That’s what he wanted. He imagined your eyes heavy lidded and you staring down at him, whispering the filthiest things to him as he jerked off against your clothed cunt. He envisioned your hands touching him instead of his, the way your delicate little fingers would wrap around him. If only..

The tension continued to mount until it was unbearable and his breath came in ragged gasps. He almost missed the sound of the front door to the apartment opening and the hurried footsteps that stopped in front of the bathroom door.

Almost.

But he was too far gone to stop himself— with one more heave of his chest and jerk of his hips, Choso’s orgasm barreled through him with an intensity unlike anything he’d ever experienced and he was lost. Ruined.

It was euphoric.

His eyes rolled back and his cock filled your panties (and his hand) with an inhuman amount of sticky cum. Just when he’d think it was over, another thick, pearlescent spurt oozed into the ruined fabric of your panties. He bucked into his hand a few more times in a bid to prolong things, carrying himself through the remaining haze completely oblivious for a split second to the wide eyes that now watched from the open door.

You stood there utterly speechless at the sight before you when you’d opened the door. Your throat went dry as you studied the way Choso’s hips bucked out the remainder of his orgasm against his hands, the flex of his biceps and abs, the way his head was tilted back and his face contorted into something utterly sinful. The way your panties were now bathed in the most obscene amount of cum you’d ever laid eyes on— panties you’d been wearing just an hour before.

It was a few seconds that felt as if they’d stretched an entire eternity. A moment that left you feeling as if you were under water, unable to breathe. If Choso had felt that way about you, he’d never made any indication— sure, he was warm toward you, but Choso was that way with everyone he allowed into his inner circle. Ever enigmatic he was, no-nonsense a fair majority of the time in every day life, sprinkled in with that unmistakable softness and warmth in private. He’d always welcomed you into his home and had become someone you confided in. He was easy to talk to.

Choso’s eyes fluttered open and locked onto yours, having finally taken notice of you and his stomach instantly dropped at the sight of you in the doorway. He started to say something, to protest but you shut the door before he could call your name, effectively cutting him off. You stood there for a moment wondering what the fuck you had just hallucinated— it had to have been a hallucination, right?

Right?

You opened the door again to confirm that you had not been hallucinating. He was still there, your come-soaked panties still in hand staring at you like a deer in the headlights.

Of all the things you’d walked in on Choso doing, it had to be this. It wasn’t like you could judge though— in some sick way, you actually kind of understood.

It wasn’t like you weren’t similar or anything, after all. Like you hadn’t hoarded the one T-shirt he’d let you borrow months ago beside your pillow to sniff every night because he just smelled that fucking good. An intoxicating mix of soft earthiness, clean skin and something unmistakably sharp.

Okay, so maybe you really understood. Fuck.

You were interrupted from your brief inner monologue by the sound of Choso’s voice tentatively calling out your name. His cock had softened enough to be partially obscured by your panties, but the copious mess remained and stood out more against the fabric and his fair skin now that his cock wasn’t at attention. In any other circumstance, you’d be impressed with the sheer amount of cum that could come from one man, but all you could think of in the moment was the fact that Choso— your friend had pleasured himself with your panties.

“I’ll wash them. I’m sorry. I— I couldn’t. I just. I—.” He started trying to explain himself but you shook your head in response, effectively shutting him up again.

“You don’t owe me an explanation.” You finally managed hoarsely after a few moments of careful consideration, trying with all your might to keep your eyes on his and not the mess between his legs. You opened your mouth to speak again when you were jolted by the sound of the front door abruptly opening and Yuji’s voice calling out your name.

In a split second decision you stepped inside the bathroom, shutting the door behind you and locking it. Choso looked like he was about to short circuit, sitting there wide eyed thinking of where he’d even begin trying to explain this to Yuji..

“Of course..” You hissed under your breath, knowing that there was only one thing to do. You weren’t about to let Choso be found in such a compromising position (and you weren’t about to throw him under the bus either) so you turned to him and put a finger to your lips, a silent request to keep quiet.

“I’m in here! My stomach hurts…” you called out and flicked the bathroom fan on in hopes of muffling any extra noise that may give the two of you away. You back up slightly away from the door and immediately recoil when you step in something wet, your expression screwing up into one of silent panic when you realized what it was.

What a fucking situation to be caught in.

Part 2??

[sleepyking]

Someone pls see my vision

So I’ve seen some chatfics of when Red and Chloe are in the past, and don’t get me wrong i love them, but I have a different take on that concept

You all know I love Red angst, right? I mean, literally all of charminghearts stuff is her suffering(I have problems okay-)

Well, my idea features that(of course)

I’m terrible at explaining things, but essentially, Red gets invited to two chats—the one with the villains, and the one with the heroes

I really like the idea of her bonding with the VKs

Here are some conversations i think would happen:

Hades: she has problems

Maleficent: we all have problems

Hades: well yeah but she has, like, extra problems

Red: I’m RIGHT HERE

Red: so you won’t attack me with that?

Hook: no? Why would i?

Red: well

Red: I’m really annoying, and loud, and obnoxious, and I don’t listen, and I shouldn’t exist, and-

Hook: WAITWAITWAIT BACK UP

Hook: why would that mean I should attack you??

Red: because that’s what should happen to me?

Hook: who told you that???

Red: my mom?

Hook, calling the gang: GUYS LETS GO COMMIT MURDER

Uliana: I don’t like you

Red: welcome to the club

Uliana: wh-

Red: current members include me and my mom. Wanna be added to the Hit Red List? I’m sure I could squeeze you in between my mom and my mom and my mom

Uliana:

Uliana: so where does this mom of yours live-

Bridget: Red doesn’t like me:(

Ella: W H A T

Bridget: :(((

Ella, ready to commit murder: hold my flower babe, I’ll be right back

Chloe: hang on-

Uuuuuh yea

I just-

I really want Red to bond with the VKs okay-

Wait I already said that

They’d be like her older siblings and I N E E D that in my life

Couple extra things:

Hades types in all lowercase and uses z instead of s

Fay fake married Uli at some point, they get divorced, Fay marries Hook and Morgie, and then Hades and Maleficent(platonically)

House Husband Hades

Fay and Hades friendship

Hades is basically a puppy

And any other stuff you want! I based most of this off of the rp group I’m in:)

Anyways

I’d write this myself but like…writers block and school are kickin my ass rn

Might still write it anyways but idk

If anyone wants to write this feel free to! Just tag me when it’s done pls:)

[inkspiredwriting]

A Lifetime and even longer

Five Hargreeves x reader

A/N: I had the idea for this story because I thought of my grandparents. My grandparents knew each other as children and then became a couple when they were teenagers. When my grandma died, my grandpa died a week later. And somehow I thought it would be the same with Five and his wife.

Warnings: Angst, Death

In the golden hues of a fading afternoon, the garden was bathed in warm sunlight. The gentle breeze carried the scent of blooming flowers and the soft rustle of leaves, whispering through the old trees that had witnessed years of life, laughter, and memories. It was a peaceful, almost timeless setting—an oasis where Five and Y/n sat together, side by side, their hands entwined as they rested on a large lounger beneath the shade of a towering oak tree.

Five's once sharp, piercing green eyes had softened with age, his silver hair still cropped close, but with deep lines now etched into his face—a testament to the battles fought, the worlds saved, and the years that had passed. Y/n, beside him, looked as graceful and gentle as ever, her own hair now streaked with silver, her smile still as warm as the first day they met. Her hand rested lightly on Five’s chest, feeling the steady rise and fall as they both took in the tranquil scene before them.

Their world had grown quieter in recent years. All of Five’s siblings were gone now—save for Klaus, who could never truly leave this world. Klaus stood a little ways off, watching them, his eyes a mixture of sadness and acceptance. He had made peace with his eternal life, even if it meant being the last of his family left to witness their passing. He could always see them, his brothers and sister, as ghosts lingering in the edges of his vision, but today, it was Five and Y/n who held his attention.

“Klaus is here,” Y/n said softly, her voice like the wind, barely a whisper. “He’s watching over us.”

Five nodded, his grip on her hand tightening ever so slightly. “He always was the one to stay behind, wasn’t he?”

Y/n smiled gently. “Always the one with the most heart. He never lets us go.”

They sat there in comfortable silence for a long moment, the weight of their shared life resting between them. Their children had long since grown up and moved away to start families of their own. Maddie and Milo, the lights of their lives, had visited not too long ago, saying their goodbyes, knowing that this chapter was coming to a close. But right now, it was just the two of them—the way it had always been, ever since that day Five first realized he loved her.

“I’ve had a good life,” Five murmured, his voice soft but steady. “No regrets. Not with you by my side.”

Y/n leaned her head on his shoulder, her voice filled with quiet emotion. “I’ve never been so happy, Five. I didn’t think, after everything, that I’d get this. But you—” she squeezed his hand gently—“you gave me the life I never even knew I wanted.”

Five turned his head slightly, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. His voice broke just a little when he spoke. “I never deserved you, but I’m glad you found me anyway.”

Y/n smiled, tears welling up in her eyes. “You deserved everything, Five. You’ve saved the world countless times. You saved me.”

They sat there in the garden, wrapped in love and the kind of peace that only comes from a lifetime spent together. The sky above them began to shift from golden to soft pinks and purples, the sun dipping lower on the horizon. Klaus, watching them from afar, shifted uneasily. He could feel it—the weight of what was coming. His heart ached, knowing that this was their last sunset together, and he wished, just for a moment, that he didn’t have to witness it. But then again, he knew it was his place to be here. To bear witness. To say goodbye.

Y/n turned to look at Five, her eyes filled with love that seemed to stretch back through the years. “Do you remember the first time we met?” she asked softly.

Five chuckled, his voice rasping with age. “How could I forget? You were a disaster.”

Y/n laughed, shaking her head. “And you were so grumpy. I didn’t think you’d ever like me.”

“I didn’t,” Five replied, though the corners of his lips twitched into a small smile. “But then you grew on me. I had no choice.”

“You had every choice,” Y/n whispered, her voice trembling with affection. “And I’m so glad you chose me.”

Five turned his head to look at her, his heart swelling with emotion he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in so long. “I’d choose you a thousand times over, in every timeline.”

They fell silent again, their breaths steady and synchronized, their hands still clasped tightly. The warmth of the day began to fade, but neither of them felt it. There was only the steady beat of their hearts, the memories of their life together, and the knowledge that they had loved fiercely, truly.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, Y/n’s breathing began to slow. Five, his own heart faltering, squeezed her hand one last time. “I love you,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

“I love you too,” Y/n replied, her voice soft as a lullaby.

And then, together, they closed their eyes, their breaths growing shallow. Five’s arms wrapped protectively around his wife as the world grew still.

Klaus, standing at a respectful distance, felt the shift before he saw it. He sighed deeply, wiping at his eyes as he approached the lounger. His heart clenched in sorrow as he saw them lying there, side by side, holding each other in death just as they had in life.

With a sad smile, Klaus knelt beside them, murmuring softly. “Rest easy, brother. You earned this.”

As he stood, the air around him shimmered slightly, and suddenly, he wasn’t alone. He turned and saw them—his family. His brothers and sisters, all of them standing there, their ghostly forms bathed in soft light. Luther, Allison, Diego, Viktor, Ben… all of them were there, watching over Five and Y/n. And standing beside them now, were Five and Y/n too, their forms glowing gently in the dim light.

Klaus smiled, tears in his eyes, as he saw the look of peace on their faces. His family, whole again, even in death. "Well," he said with a sniff, "I guess we’re all together now."

Five and Y/n, their hands still clasped even as spirits, looked at Klaus with quiet smiles. And though Klaus knew the pain of eternal life would never leave him, in that moment, surrounded by the ones he loved, he didn’t feel so alone anymore.

[excalibur-gone-missing]

Paring: LSM x fem!reader 

Requested: No

Genre:  soulmates!au, angst

Warning(s):  sad

Summary: Seokmin loves love. But love doesn't love him back.

Word count:  788

Other works 

disclaimer: this is not the exact representation of the subjects in real life. I just use them for my inspiration. 

a/n: I would greatly appreciate it if all of you could take a moment to comment on this fic. As an author, I find great value in your feedback, as it allows me to better comprehend my readers, and I thoroughly enjoy interacting with all of you. Constructive criticism is always welcome, so don't hesitate to talk about this fic or send me an ask. So please don’t be a silent reader.

a/n2: I don't know if I will make this into a series, but do tell me if you want me to do so!

[permanent taglist] [only for those interested, don’t fill the form otherwise]

Seokmin loves love. He looks at young lovers in the park sitting on a bench, leaning on each other or holding hands, and he hopes they stay like that forever. Hell, if he could, his official profession would be matchmaking. But after a bit of a trial run during his uni days, the man understood that he is horrendous at it. He has more chances of pairing Mingyu’s socks than pairing two humans. What can he say—he just likes to bring people together. The only problem is that he’s far more impatient than an alpha particle roaming around in a chamber.

Now, it must not come as a shock to you that this man has indeed fallen in love and, like most of us in this universe, has had his heart broken too. I mean, it was his fault for falling in love with a woman who had another man’s name written in the script of her fate. But hey, love is love. You never understand when it will attack, and, being the defenseless fool you are, you just fall for it.

Seokmin understands it was never meant to be, but that doesn’t mean he loved her any less. Unlike most, he was devoted to Somin. He loved her like a poet loves his poem, like the paper loves its pen, like the sunflower loves the sun. He remembers how his world would light up the minute she came into his peripheral vision. He loved her with every breath he took and every drop of water he drank.

But like every other forbidden relationship, this one didn’t last. Somin found her fated mate, her soulmate. And just like water melting from a glacier, she seeped away from his life with a sad look of apology toward Seokmin and an enchanting smile for her one and only.

Was Seokmin sad? Obviously, he was! Who wouldn’t be? That night, he drank like there was no tomorrow, and Chan still brings it up sometimes: “Hyung looked like he wanted to crush that new dude of his ex, but also looked scared when he remembered his face.” I mean, obviously, that man was built like a truck. As much as Seokmin claims he likes to do push-ups and lift, he could never be the hunk of a man Seungcheol is. Never!

But even after all that, he could never get angry at anyone. It was his and solely his fault for falling in love with a woman who was not fated to be his. The blame falls on him, no one else. They had promised to be each other’s forever, but somewhere deep down, he knew it wouldn’t last. He knew that all those talks were just talks. So when the inevitable happened, he wasn’t angry at her—just happy. No matter how brutally she broke his heart, she deserved to be loved the right way, and so did her soulmate. He would have broken off the relationship anyway the minute he knew about Seungcheol—no questions asked.

Now, this brings us to this very gloomy, rainy day at the bus stop. Seokmin hates the rain; it reminds him of tears, and he hates to see the sky cry. But everyone’s gotta cry once in a while, so he’ll let it go this time.

This is when he feels it—the sting on his back where his mark is. The beautiful fish painted on his skin feels alive. Not even a minute after the sting, he feels it—the pull, the pull to look at the passengers getting off the bus.

That’s when he sees her: the literal definition of beauty and grace, the beautiful butterfly in this gloomy world. His one and only soulmate. You.

That’s when you look at him, feeling the pull too. It seems as though the world has stopped for Seokmin. Time has allowed him this moment to stare at you and take in your grace and beauty. And suddenly, he realizes you’re heading straight for him. Straightening his back, he looks at you expectantly, hoping to hear your name pour out of those beautiful, glossy, plump lips of yours. And then he sees them move. But he doesn’t understand what you’re saying, because your beauty has rendered him speechless.

Then he hears the words—those ominous words that will haunt him for the rest of his life, maybe even eternity: “I don’t believe in soulmates, so let’s never fucking meet each other again, ever!”

And before the boy can even process the words you’ve just thrown at him, you’re walking away. And just like that, the Seoul rush engulfs you like a sea monster, not letting Seokmin reach you to at least ask why.

a/n: thank you so much for reading, please don’t forget to leave a review

[free-boundsoul]

The Imperial Anomaly

(Freelancer is isekai'ed into the Imperium)

@rahnum is my editor for this 💜

Read here on A03

            “How…interesting. I truly did not see that coming. Who would have guessed that a ‘Listener’ would sacrifice themselves for a ‘Voiced’? One that was created only to be killed, at that. Oh? Are you gaining consciousness?”

            The voice was almost soothing, echoing in the silence. Silence? That wasn’t right. Where were the screams? They opened their eyes and saw…nothing. Looking down, they could see themselves, the tracksuit they’d been wearing to the Elemental and Energetic Games was covered in dirt and…was that blood? The splatters were almost neon red in the darkness that surrounded them. What happened?

            “Oh? Do you not remember?” There was a sort of…glee? In the voice. They turned their head, trying to see anyone else but the darkness remained the same. “You’re looking for me but I am here…Are you in my domain? The space beyond the screen? Or are you in me? I didn’t think it was possible.” The voice trailed off, as if in thought.

            “Who are you?”

            They would almost feel the entity’s gaze on them, it was like the fuzzy static on an old TV settled over their skin. “Oh, dear ‘listener’, I’m the bottom of the wishing well. I’m the place where stray desires go to die. Or that’s how I started, anyway. I’m so much more than that now. I am Echo, little Freelancer.”

            They couldn’t help but turn slowly as they walked aimlessly, trying to make sense out of the darkness when he spoke again, “What to do with you? This deviation was not part of the narrative. Xavier was supposed to die-“

            It was white-hot, the pain that lanced through their skull as memories resurfaced, flowing over them like a dam that had broke the instant Echo mentioned the name. Xavier, Gavin…the Shades flooding the stadium like a torrent of death. People screaming…dying, dropping like flies once those things so much as touched them. Xavier, suspended above the ground, held in the grasp of a semblance of death. Gavin’s fingers slide down their arm, unable to find purchase as they ran toward the man. Their core sparked in their chest as that familiar rush went through them. Psychokinesis had always been a power that came to them, their first line of defense. Their power tore the Fire-Contra Elemental away from the Shade, but it was too hasty, their attempt too panicked as the man was sent tumbling into Gavin, the two left in a heap on the ground and leaving them too close to the Shade that was looking to replace the meal they’d pulled out of its grasp.

            They could hear Gavin yelling out their name, desperate to get to them even as he was bombarded by the emotions of every human stuck inside the Ward. They could see the way his face twisted in agony as bony claws sunk into their body and all they could feel was cold. Gavin was screaming as the cold spread through their body, their vision tunneling as sound faded. They saw more than felt their body hit the ground, saw a hand-their hand- reach out toward their love when a force crashed against them. Gavin’s usual honeyed tone was deep and growling, echoing from the power that came with his origin. But in the last moment that they could remember, the force that surrounded them, that ripped through their physical form…was warm.

            They came back to themselves with a gasp, nails biting at their throat and chest as they heaved in another lungful of air. Were they dead? If they were dead, how could they breathe? Their body jolted as that voice spoke again, “I see you remember. How did you manage to go off script-“

“Where is Gavin?! Xavier? Damien and Huxley and- and Lasko?! Where are my friends? Are they okay? I-ugh!” Their hands came up to cradle their head as pressure bore down on them. Their voice seemed to echo inside their head, their questions of concern being bounced back within their own skull- too loud and taking up so much room it was like their ears should bleed, something physical should happen to mark this kind of pain.

"Ssssh sh sh sh shhhhh. You're pathetically adorable. Prodding and whining. For your dear Gavin. Your precious. Friends." The voice sneered, dripping with condescension. Moving around them like a predator circling, playing with prey. "I wouldn't interrupt me again. Dear 'Listener'. You are merely a guest in my domain. Who knows what will happen to you. If I stop paying attention. Lose patience? I'm not the only thing that swims. In the dark."                    

            They managed to grit out a strained apology and the pressure was gone, like it was just a figment of their imagination. “Much better. Now, to answer your questions. You are the only one here. Your friends are safe. It’s quite interesting. How your deviation changed how the story went. Damien and Huxley weren’t meant to be in the Ward Gavin made. But without you there. Well, someone had to keep Gavin focused. I never expected that his magic would bring your soul to me. I didn’t think a ‘listener’ would have their own soul. Your purpose is to follow the script.” That fuzzy static was back, making their whole body run with that pins and needles feeling. Echo’s gaze was on them, like he’d like to dissect them so he could better understand the anomaly. “And yet you didn’t. I suppose the incubus’ little nickname for you is. At least. Accurate. Wouldn’t you agree, Deviant?”

             Freelancer bit back a retort, even if they wanted to snap back at the voice, it wouldn’t achieve much besides angering it, him? At their silence, Echo hummed, “You’re usually so talkative. Freelancer. Why don’t you tell me. How you went against the script? It’s the first time such a thing happened. Even you becoming close with Gavin. Was a part of the script; though there was a cost. So, what did you pay to change the script?”

            “I don’t know what you’re talking about. My body just…moved. I couldn’t just let Xavier die. I don’t know about any…cost?” Why did he keep referencing a script? Why did he call them ‘listener’? Was this some hallucination? Were they dead? Were their friends safe? Was Gavin?

His sigh reverberated around them, “So even you can’t explain it…how frustrating. What am I supposed to do with you? I don’t want you here. I could send you back but…what fun would that be?” The glee was back in his voice, sending shivers down their spine. They could feel the grin in Echo's voice, like a smile patchworked from the space between stars. “No, that wouldn’t be fair. Something must be given. First. What could you offer me? Your core? Your memories? Would you give up your memories? Of the little family you found at DAMN? Should I return you to your body? It could be entertaining to have you not remember them. How much would that pain them? Should I take the powers you strived so hard to control? Should I intensify them and make them uncontrollable? Would your new family discard you if you were Unempowered? Like your blood had when your core awakened?”

Echo laughed, the fear on Freelancer's face was evident, the biological cues ringing out against his liminal senses, the blood fleeing it's face, diaphragm beating CO2 into the air requiring quicker replenishment in this place between realms, its muscle fibers clenching and unclenching uselessly, weakly. But it's fear was so much more than this, dwarfing the visual Echo so rarely bothered with. Really, using reflected light to perceive? Soooo quaint...

A benefit of being a being that was neither ‘listener’ nor a true ‘Voiced’. He wasn’t part of the narrative, but that gave him more insight. He could feel the emotions of the little lost soul that had entered his domain. Could rifle through their memories like a flip book. Losing either their powers or their memories would leave the Freelancer a fragment of their former self. Who knows if they would recover? And even if he wouldn’t admit it, Echo was glad that it was this particular ‘listener’ that had entered his space. Even he was allowed to have a few favorites from the narrative, after all. There was a reason the Freelancer and ‘Gavin’ were together in his narrative…”Oh, now there’s a thought.”

            “How about we make a deal, Freelancer? As luck would have it, I have my own little…narrative. Your appearance here has given me an idea. What would happen to my narrative if I inserted you into the story? A world like your own, except for a few key changes. How would you survive? Could you change it? I find myself excited to see what would happen…what do you say, Freelancer? Will you enter into this deal with me? If you can achieve a ‘happy ending’ in this world of mine, I’ll send you back to your original body? I’ll leave you with your memories, your powers, you just have to survive. And then you can go back to your family, on the other side of the screen.”

            Freelancer thought about their choices, did they really have any? It was either accept his deal, or stay here. Or disappear. It took a few moments before they found their voice, “Is it possible to go back to my body? After what the Shade did…”

            “Your physical form is…damaged at the moment. But it’s being cared for. You’d be surprised by what magic can do, given the time. Your consciousness is with me, but your body still lives. And will continue to live. You can consider yourself Sleeping Beauty for the moment, frozen in time. Time is an allusion, dear ‘listener’. The time you spend in my narrative will not affect your time. If you succeed, you won’t be sent into a body that has long grown frail and old. I am not that cruel.”

            He scoffed, almost like he was annoyed that they didn’t immediately jump at the deal he offered. “I’m being generous, Freelancer. I’m letting you keep your memories of your original world, keep your powers at the level they are right now. Trust me, you’ll want that edge in the story I created. Unless you want to stay here with me? As your precious friends worry themselves sick at your bedside, with no hope that you’ll awaken? Do you think your Gavin will endure it? For as strong as demons are, they can be oh so fragile in matters of the heart. You saw that when the Ward came down. How he started to unravel-“

            “I accept!” Their voice rang out in the darkness, and even though they steeled themselves for interrupting him, the pain didn’t come. Though the static on their body seemed to spike. “I’ll enter your…narrative. But what counts as a ‘happy ending’?”

            “Hmmm, that is a suggestive choice of words, isn’t it? Depending on the person, the definition changes. Your happy ending is not the same as mine, or another’s. But I’ll keep it simple, just for you. This world I created has an expiration date. It’s not immediate, but it is soon. If you can save this world, I’ll consider it a ‘happy’ ending. I think that’s fair, don’t you?”

            Oh yes, saving the world is definitely a fair thing to ask one person. Their thought was bitter, but it wasn’t like they had another choice. If they wanted to get back home, back to Gavin and Caelum, Lasko, Damien and Huxley…they had to accept this deal with this…entity. Was he some sort of god? Or a…what had Gavin called them? A Sovereign? If he could create a world of his own…he certainly had power. And that power could either send them back to where they belonged, or it could leave them here for eternity, maybe even make them vanish completely. It was better to play his game.

            His laughter echoed around them, almost drowning them in his glee before his voice began to get further away. Or maybe they were the one falling. “Oh dear ‘listener’, I am so happy you accepted. I cannot wait to see what you think of my world, how you’ll traverse it with no prior knowledge. How you’ll react to the changes I made to some fan favorites… Enjoy your stay on the other side of the looking glass. I’ll be watching.”

Taglist: @pinksparkl @thatweirdomidas @vind3miat0r @fuzzy-melonlord @dawnofiight

[za-vandal]

So I'm back from the dead, yippee! Now here's a word dump of how I wanna bang a big bad evil guy.

Sub! Villain X Hero Reader (male aligned, but no gendered terms used)

Not grammar checked, Smut at the end<3

Mean Villain, who was a monster of the hero's own creation. Perhaps the hero was a friend he fought with, an ex lover, or just rivals that went too far. But they both know there's no turning back when they meet again at a battle field.

Mean Villain who enjoys annoying and pissing off the hero. A habit that carried over the years from whatever past they had. He just loved seeing the hero so riled up, so mean and angry and how the hero's muscles would tense from the taunts.

Mean Villain, who tried to get the upper hand every time he fought the hero by doing surprise attacks, usually ending up getting thrown and pushed against the wall because the hero literally just swings them to the nearest surface they can and pins them down.

Mean Villain who enjoyed it a little too much, having to bite the hero so he could squirm away, hoping to whatever god that exists the hero didn't see how red his face was. He spent an embarrassing amount of time to spend that energy on his hard-on and accidentally moaned the Hero's name, accidentally moaning it too much.

Mean Villain not noticing that the hero had bugged him, a voice recorder was on his villain outfit just laying on the floor

Mean Villain, hiding his emotions as best as he could, wondering why the hero looked so flustered when they met again.

Confused villain who doesn't understand why this is happening. He has never had thoughts this horrendous about the hero. How the hero's hand could slide against his pecs so nicely, and squeeze his chest while the hero's fingers plunged deep inside.

Confused villain who wakes up hard like a freaking teen and gets so embarrassed that whatever evil plan of the day gets cancelled. His lackeys were so confused why their boss was throwing darts at a picture of the hero while mumbling how about how hot he was.

"Think boss lost it." "No shit Sherlock, but at least we have an off day".

*cues to unholy screeching and shouting, where the villain complains about the hero's body being too big and stuttering once he thinks about what else would be big*

Confused villain who found the hero ending patrol one day, and the hero looked so pissed while getting ready to fight. The villain accidentally complements the hero, leaving the two of them absolutely mortified. The villain ran with the hero chasing after him, trying to get answers.

Confused villain, who accidentally entered a rival villain's territory. Taken by surprise and captured, locked in a warehouse without his suit, wearing whatever rags were prepared by the henchman. Terrified about the fact that the territory he was in was of a hostile competitor, someone who would kill the villain if given the chance.

Confused villain who blacked out. Tied to a chair and beaten all over, they might be strong but this was on another level... He could hear a loud crash as his vision faded and his mind went numb, he pleads to whatever higher power that existed that we would be saved.

Recovering Villain, sleeping so prettily on the hero's bed.. he woke himself up when he fell onto the floor, the hero was quick to check on him, leaning down so close that their lips were almost touching.

Recovering villain who said "fuck it, we ball" and kisses the hero first, while the hero deepens the kiss to the surprise of the villain, who whimpered as the hero started squeezing his body like how he would in his dreams.

Pretty villain thrown back onto the bed, wearing an oversized sweater of the hero and looking so cute~ He writhes his body as the hero touches him so delicately, kissing all the little places where his healed injuries were, worshipping this tattered, broken body so softly.

Pretty villain who cries as the hero picked up the pace, he could feel the hero's fingers so deep inside him, cute little huffs coming from his mouth as he tries to hide his place with the hero's pillow.

Pretty villain, whose body gets folded into a mating press as the hero slipped into him. His pretty little hole was squeezing down so nicely, his face with tears streaming down was just angelic. The hero's constant murmurs of encouragement makes the villain cry even more. It was so gentle, so deep, so good~

Pretty villain who moans so loud, moving his hips just so the hero could reach deeper, getting off to the fact that he likes being pampered and praised. His eyes rolling up as he could feel the hero's hand on his dick, preventing him from coming over and over.

Pretty villain who lost count how many times he's come, how many positions they were in, just laying on the bed with his thighs on the hero's shoulder. The villain couldn't mumble out a single coherent sentence, but he fills the air with short breaths and pleads. Blurting out about how big and deep the hero was, how he wanted to get filled up so nicely.

Pretty villain who wakes up next to the hero cuddling him, as he starts to annoy the hero again, asking to be pampered. Something's just never change.

[littlerocks]

Me not being a native English speaker, the phrase “vision in a cone” I couldn't understand much, and reading the comments saying that it was a pun on the cones that are in the eye, and so to say that buk is a beautiful vision up close, or other comments said that in parties every time you wear cones you turn out ugly, (which I can say is also true, because every time I try to wear them, I look ridiculous) however in this case buck always turns out beautiful in tommy's eyes

This made me fall more in love with buck and tommy and literally you can see even if for a few moments how much the two of them paciate and get along so well together

It makes me laugh how some people just to throw shit on tommy, again they have to find a negative link on this sentence, there is if eddie had said it everyone saying “how much they love each other”… tommy says it, “no tommy is bad”…

Okay the ship and okay if you don't love tommy, but if you love buck I think seeing him happy is very impritant and that's what should be enough

NOW WE HAVE LOST THEM, THEY ARE SO IN LOVE

[clockwork-ashes]

Something Lonesome - Part I (a few times more)

Read also on Ao3 :)

Summary: Elain dies when she’s thrown into the cauldron, but she doesn’t stay dead for long. Over and over, again and again, something brings her back, and every time she finds her way to Lucien.

Note: This is a romance, but it’s also just a story about Elain. There will be a happy ending <3 Also, completely dedicated to the lovely @nocasdatsgay because I have so many ideas and every time I yell them into the tumblr void (the tags) she has something nice to say <3

Elain watched as Feyre’s blood flowed between the grooves of the stone tiles. Steady like a lazy river, just as mesmerising as the waters that danced in the Cauldron.

She heard the strangled moan Nesta made in response, a tortured, animalistic sound. The gag in her own mouth was soaked through with tears, damp as it cut into her cheeks. 

Rhysand howled in pain, almost as if the King of Hybern had taken a knife to his heart instead. Elain wished he had. 

Just as the soldiers hauled her into the air, she locked a terrified gaze onto the warrior whose eyes were made of sunlight. She felt as if she had seen them before, known them as surely as her reflection when she looked in the mirror. 

He took a measured step, purposeful. His broad hand was on the jewelled sword at his side, and Elain knew he would have been a sight to behold wielding the weapon. She was thrown into the whirling waves suddenly, pulled under by a force so strong, fighting against it would have been impossible. Darkness clouded her vision, but the map of a vicious scar lingered bright as day for the briefest of moments, lovely. 

* * *

“Put the prettier one in first,” the king said, his voice ringing from where he sat on his throne. Elain wanted to rip out his dark eyes, wished to feel skin and blood and tears beneath the crescent moons of her nails. 

Nesta hadn’t stopped fighting, and Elain hadn’t stopped shaking in fear. There was a part of her that knew there was an inevitability to it all, a sixth sense warning her not to even try. It felt deeply rooted, connected to her like a tree was to the ground it grew from. 

The red haired man spoke, tilting the world on its axis. His voice was as rich as melted gold, bright as the arrow of light Elain swore she saw arching towards her. “Stop this,” he said roughly, the demand echoing when no one listened.  

Elain could still hear the two simple words as she was shoved into the Cauldron, tripping over the edge of the ancient object, sinking until all she could see was darkness. 

* * *

Moonlight always looked like sunshine on the darkest nights, Elain knew. Each bright ray cutting across the sky, forcing all the stars to fade away. She liked how a path sometimes appeared over water, endless, not even stopping when it reached the horizon. When Elain had been a girl, she’d often wonder if there was a way to walk across the phantom bridge, could close her eyes and imagine it clear as glass. 

* * *

Elain went into the darkness willingly, knowing it like an old friend. 

Darling. 

Cold waters hugged her like welcoming hands, gentle. 

Stay. 

Only once, Elain wanted to know what might happen if she asked the darkness to wait. 

[littlespacereader]

hi id love love love if you could do wanda!caregiver and a reader whos about 9-11 years old. reader has been really stressed due to school and processing trauma, and after a week of not attending, wanda persuades them into being a kiddo with her all day to relieve some stress :3 i have no nicknames i hate, but an absolute FAV is "angel."

I’ve never written for Wanda before!! I was so excited for the opportunity! I really hope you love this story as much as I did writing it! Enjoy!!💞💞

A Little Love From Mama🥣

Caregiver! Wanda Maximoff & GN Little! Reader

Tags- hurt and comfort, hugs, cuddles, forehead kisses, cooking together, drawing, small cameo of Vision at the end

There’s been a pit in Wanda’s stomach for weeks now. Slowly but surely she could see the stress and trauma eating away at her little one.

In and out of the Avengers tower they would go, giving a small quiet goodbye to Wanda and the rest before attending school. Then dragging themselves back home to the tower looking even worse than before.

She knew school had been their biggest stressor. Between the other students, the workload, and the social aspect of it all, it was taking a toll on their mental health.

Wanda didn’t want to push them or make things worse, but her motherly caregiver instincts couldn’t help herself. She made them lunch, giving them a small kiss on the forehead beofre they left and gave them a warm hug when they returned.

But even these small gestures didn’t help the inevitable.

Eventually they started missing classes, then missing days at school. At first Wanda wasn’t too worried, maybe they needed a mental health day just like some take sick days.

But that day turned to days that turned to a week. She knew she had to step in, she couldn’t hold back another minute.

The Avengers went on a mission abroad, leaving her the perfect opportunity for her to take care of Y/N alone.

A small soft knock to their door, “Y/N? Can I come in?”

Silence, then “I…*sniffle*…I thought you were on the mission?”

“I decided I didn’t want to go. Can I come in Angel?”

Angel, a nickname reserved for Y/N when they’re regressed. It holds a special meaning between the two of them.

It already seems to have taken its effect onto Y/N as they softly yet with a broken sob say, “Yes Mama.”

Wanda immediately enters the room to find, Y/N sitting on their bed, knees up to their chest, crying.

“Awww Angel come here,” she takes a seat on the bed and opens her arms to Y/N who gladly reciprocates.

Wanda wraps them in a tight hug, one arm holding them close and tightly against her, the other rubbing their back. All while Y/N cries in their arms.

“I know sweetheart I know, it’s been a lot recently hasn’t it?” She asks getting a small nod.

“You don’t need to worry about a thing right now. It’s time for Mama to take care of her sweet little Angel. Okay? Does that sound good to you?”

Y/N break apart but only slightly to look into Wanda’s eyes. There she can see the change immediately, now she’s got a Little in her arms. They nod their head, looking so desperately in need of some love and affection.

“There’s my sweet Angel.” She smiles, leaning forwards to places a soft kiss to their head.

“Let’s get you changed into some clean comfy clothes and then we’ll see what we’re going to do for the rest of the evening okay?”

Another small nod but this time accompanied with a smile. It’s been a long time since Wanda’s seen them smile.

Without even moving, using her powers she opened their closet and grabbed their favorite pair of pajamas, bringing it over to the two of them. She then helped them change. While she knew their headspace was older, she figured the extra comfort would be welcomed.

And welcomed it was. She ended it by brushing their hair and placing another kiss to their forehead for good measure. “There we are. All fresh and comfy.” She smiled back to them.

She stood from the bed and took their hand in hers, “Now how shall we spending our evening together?” She asks as they walking from Y/N’s room into the tower.

“We could play legos, we could play make believe, we could watch a movie and snuggle up together.” Wanda began listing options to help her little one.

“C-Could we…” Y/N started to say.

“What is it Angel?” She stopped and turned to them, carding a hand through their hair.

“Could we cook together?” Y/N suggested shyly.

Wanda’s face brighten up with the suggestion. “Of course we can Angel. I’d love to.”

They walking into the small kitchen together. Y/N took a seat and the barstool as Wanda rounded the counter, standing across from them.

“Now what dish would you like to cook chef?” She winked.

Y/N smiled, “Can we cook one of your family recipes?”

“Of course we can.” With the flick of her wrist pots and pans started flying out from the cabinets. Then the ingredients started to fly from the fridge.

“We’re going to make a Sokovian dish called Chicken Paprikash. So first I’m going to need you to help Mama cut the vegetables.”

A small cutting board and a plastic knife floated over to where Y/N was sitting on the barstool. “Now, I want you to be extra careful with the knife okay? It’s not that sharp but it could hurt my little Angel.”

“I promise I’ll be careful.” Y/N said, so happy to be helping out.

A green bell paper floats over to Y/N, landing on their cutting board. “Could you cut that up for Mama? I’ll get started on the chicken while you do.”

Y/N eagerly nodded and began working on cutting their bell pepper up. They worked in comfortable silence. Wanda humming a small song while Y/N focused on their work.

“Mama?”

“Yes?” Wanda lifted her head.

“Where’s Papa tonight?” Y/N asked about Vision.

“Papa went on the mission tonight. But I’m sure he will be back later to see his little Angel again. And won’t he be so surprised to learn that you made dinner!”

Y/N gasp and looks back at Wanda beyond excited. “We gotta save him a bowl!!”

“We definitely will. We can’t leave Papa out.” She smiles. Even though Vision couldn’t taste anything nor did he eat, it didn’t mean he wouldn’t appreciate the gesture.

Y/N helps put all the cut vegetables into the soup. Wanda floats over the lid, covering the soup and letting it simmer and cook.

“Now we have to let it cook on its own for a while. But, in the meantime, maybe we could play together or draw?”

“Draw!! Let’s draw something!” Y/N jumped from their seat.

“Go ahead and get your markers while I clean up. I’ll meet you there Angel.” Wanda explained as more things started to float.

After a couple of minutes, Wanda join Y/N at the table, coloring a picture together. Wanda praised every picture, promising to put it on the fridge.

Both of their head lifted to the sound of the timer going off. “The soup!” Y/N smiled.

“It’s all ready,” Wanda smiled back, “Clean off the table while I grab us a bowl.”

Y/N nodded, starting to put their markers and papers away. After they were all cleaned up, Wanda had returned with two bowls.

Together they sat at the table enjoying the meal they made together. With the first spoon full Wanda gasp, “Y/N, I think this is the best chicken Paprikash I’ve ever had!”

Y/N’s whole face lit up. “Really?!”

“Definitely! I couldn’t have made it any better myself. You’re truly a talented cook! You truly are a Maximoff.” She smiles back, seeing the Little beaming under the praise.

They enjoyed their meal together, sitting right beside one another, talking and laughing together. The worries and stresses of school long forgotten.

~~~

Vision returned back to the tower late at night. Quietly arriving off the elevator at his shared floor with Wanda and Y/N. The light were off so he assumed they had gone to bed.

That was…until he saw the television still playing in the living room.

He made his way over, to find Wanda and Y/N sound asleep cuddled on the couch together. The tv plays Y/N’s favorite cartoon, and mixed with the low lighting must’ve lulled the two to sleep.

Vision smiled at the sight, happy that Wanda was able to help Y/N. He grabbed their bowls of snacks and their drinks, bringing it back to the kitchen to help clean up while they slept.

He walked over to the fridge, seeing the outside now decorated with new drawings. He opened the door and inside sat a bowl of soup with a note:

Dear Papa,

I made this bowl of soup with Mama today! I saved this bowl especially for you!

Made with love,

- Y/N xoxoxo

[thetempleofthemasaigoddess]

Defenseless I remain before the first light breaks (part 1)

Younger!Dracule Mihawk x younger!reader.

This fic is part of the Beast in Black series. This is part one of two.

This fic takes place before Mihawk joined the Seven Warlords.

*****

The woman is smiling at him. Lying on her back, an arm bent under her head as the other lies on the grass so close to his he could easily take her hand if only he wanted, she’s a vision of such rapturous beauty he can feel his heart break with joy and gratitude. He’s not usually the sort of a man who doubts his own value, but in the depth of his heart, the heart of a child who has been valued by few and loved by even fewer, he still can’t quite believe that this is true - that she has wanted him, chosen him, and loved him.  

A slight breeze gently stirs their clothes. A mile away below them, surrounded by the hills in such a picturesque scene of pastoral landscape any artist would cry happy tears at the thought of painting it, is the town they have escaped from to enjoy a few hours alone; the remains of their lunch lie abandoned on the blanket only a few steps away, the singing of the birds strangely subdued, as if even the small creatures of the woods didn’t dare disturb their peace.   

Suddenly, her lovely eyes turn in his direction; she smiles, languid and vaguely sleepy, and he doesn’t bother breaking the gaze as he finally intertwines their fingers. The woman by his side smiles, and for a moment, he’s the King of the world.

“Make a wish.” she invites him softly, and he raises an eyebrow, amused.

“There’s nothing I wish.” he truthfully admits “I already have everything I could ever want, here with me.”

“What do you mean?”

“A wish. Ask for something you’d like to see come true.”

“Hmm, you’re such a flatterer…”

She giggles, and a moment later she’s moved to straddle him, her shapely legs caging his hips. “I got you.” she murmurs, openly pleased as she observes the man under him, her fingers ghosting over the portion of his chest left naked by his coat “You’re in my power now, I can do whatever I want with you…”

Now he’s grinning, all too aware of the pressure of her pelvis against his as his hands raise to cradle her hips. They’ve never made love in the open, and he’s never had any interest in filling that gap, but after all they’re far from the town, alone save for the birds and critters populating the woods nearby and who will tell no one what they’re doing, and the sensation of her rocking on his already hardening member is too delicious, too sensual and heavenly to resist…

“... I wish?”

“What, my beauty?”

“Hmm?” he murmurs, confused for a moment “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

“I said, do you know what I would wish for?”

Her smile softens; she stops moving to simply look at him, vaguely pensive, her hands now taking his. “I wish this moment would never end.“ she answers in the end. She’s not smiling anymore, as if already aware of how fragile and inconsequential dreams are when facing the harshness of reality, or maybe she’s unsettled, almost scared, by the intensity of her own feelings… as if she feared that what she feels, all the love and the desire and the affection, could destroy her “That we could stay here for the rest of our lives, forgetting everything else.”

“And what would we do?”

“Whatever we please. We’d talk. We’d eat and drink. We’d make love. You and I, and no one else to disturb us. I know it’s absurd, but… it’d be nice.”

It is absurd, they both know it perfectly: they’re both busy people, with duties and interests and ambitions of their own, but it would be nice to forget everything, he thinks, say to hell with everything else and simply live of love, like in the cheesiest and most unrealistic of films and novels. They’d move to a place where no one knows their names, build a little house, and spend their days fishing and tilling the soil… maybe raise a couple children…

As if. I could never be content with a life like that, and neither could she.

The woman pouts, adorable in her displeasure; she rolls her hips, and he yelps. “You’re making fun of me.”

“I swear I’m not!”

“You were smiling. I know it’s stupid, it was just a thought… You know I miss you when you’re away…”

He misses her as well, he says, so much at times he feels suffocating, but that makes his returns even sweeter - when he reaches the harbour of her island, and she’s there waiting for him, happy and relieved, and ready to enjoy their time together, however short it might be.

“Listen, I can’t promise you we’ll run away, leave the world behind and live like a couple of hermits, having sex from morning till evening.” he says gently in the end; he sits up, and a moment later he has embraced her, the soft body filling the space in his arms as if it had been created for it “You know it would only make us miserable. But this I can promise: wherever we go, no matter how far from each other we’ll be… I’ll always come back to you.”

“Always?”

“Always. I swear to you, (name); nothing and no one, not even death itself, will ever stop me from returning to you.”

The conversation has started as little more than a joke, the sort of sweet nothings lovers (and this is what they are, he reflects; friendship and respect and mind-blowing sex would have sufficed, but almost a decade has passed since his and (name)’s first encounter, and by now he knows beyond any doubt he is completely lost, lost for her beauty and grace and intelligence and strength. He loves her, and he will never be able to live without her) share during their intimacy, but both have perceived the real meaning of those words… a promise, instinctive but not naive, to keep no matter what.

(name) nods. “Then I'll be waiting.” she promises; she's dead serious, almost stern, as if to warn him against failing to keep his word “No matter how long you make me wait, even if it means spending the rest of my life here, I promise I'll wait for you.”

“I don't want you to spend…”

“Then don't stay away for so long. We both know what we feel; now we need to make sure to live it to the fullest. Come back to me, my love; I promise you'll never have to regret it.”

He already knows that he won’t. He sighs when she finally lowers herself to press her mouth, warm and soft, against his; holding her by the hips, he cautiously shifts so as to lay her on the grass under him. “I want you.” he murmurs, breaking the kiss; he’s been aware of the fact since their very first encounter, when he had only had to see the way her hips swayed as she walked in front of him to feel unable to swallow, but the intensity of his desire never ceases to amaze him… not because she doesn’t deserve it, but because he never thought he could feel this way, for anyone “(name), I want you so much.”

(name)’s smile is all the answer he needs; not breaking the gaze they’re sharing, she takes his hand to guide it under her skirt. “Then take me.” she murmurs “Take me now, my love, I’m yours and I swear I’ll be forever.”

*

He’s been sailing for at least three hours, letting the wind and the tide guide him in the absence of a map, when land finally appears on the horizon, and he allows himself to heave a sigh of relief. There, he tells himself, on that small island he doesn't even know the name of, he’ll find what he’s looking for. He’ll find help -a doctor for his wounds, perhaps, and food and water to satiate the hunger and thirst that are literally devouring him from the inside- and answers to the questions he has kept obsessing over ever since he woke up, lying on the wooden deck of this tiny boat, under the unforgiving sun of a midsummer morning.

What happened to me?

Where am I going, or at least, where do I come from?

And most important of all…

Who am I?

He doesn’t know. He doesn’t have the slightest idea, not of his own name, nor of the town or country he was born in, nor of the reason he found himself at sea, completely alone, and this is… well, not scary -he is not afraid, even though perhaps he should be- but somehow destabilising, as if he had been asked to translate a text in a foreign language he doesn’t speak, or to make a long journey without telling him his destination. He’s completely devoid of any reference point, regarding himself and his course both, and he doesn’t like it. Not one bit. 

He doesn’t even know what part of the Sea he is on, whether the Grand Line or one of the Four Blues. When he opened his eyes, brusquely awoken from his dreamless slumber by a combination of the sun on his eyes and the grumbling of his empty stomach, there was nothing around him but water, fortunately smooth, in all directions. He doesn’t recognise the ship he is on, a tiny but well-built -but how could he know?, he wondered; he felt confident in his judgement, but had no idea where that security came from, how he acquired it. Is he a shipwright, used to build vessels and to repair them? Looking at his hands, strong but free from calluses and blisters, it seemed unlikely; then what? Is he a sailor? A fisherman? A waiter on a goddamned cruise ship?- craft with a single white sail, but thank the Gods, searching in his memory, he has realised he knows how to sail, even though he has no idea of who taught him, or how he learnt, so he has been able to govern the ship in search of land. The island in front of him gets bigger by the minute, its well-kept buildings and lush vegetation already discernible. He’s almost there, he tells himself, searching for an ounce of optimism in his heart and finding none; and once he has reached his destination, everything will fall into place. 

He'll be able to eat and drink, he'll feel better, and at that point he'll decide what to do. Who knows, maybe luck will smile on him, and he'll find someone who knows him; he’ll be told who he is, and what happened to him. Maybe his home, and his family, are there, and they’ll be happy to see him… 

She’s there as well. She is, he could bet his life on it, even though he has no concrete reason to believe it; maybe that is why he was so close to the island when he got sick or was attacked or whatever happened to him, he was going to visit her, and she’s waiting for him, like she had promised. You see, (name)?, he wishes he could tell her, and he will soon, if it’s the last thing he does, I promised I would be back, and I am. I lost my memory, I don’t even know my own name, but I returned to you, and I can’t wait to hold you in my arms once more…

But even if she’s not here, whether because she has moved or because she lives elsewhere -after all, he reasons, for all he knows this island might not have been his original destination, only the closest place to where the tide led his ship while he was unconscious, or perhaps he had decided to go there for some other reason than a visit to his ladylove- he’ll find her. It won’t be easy, since he only knows her name, but difficulties do not scare him; (name) is the only person who can tell him who he is, and maybe even how he ended up in the middle of the Sea with no memory of himself and his history, and then there is another motive, another reason why he can’t wait to see the woman whose memory is enough to make his heart tremble, a reason he’d be too embarrassed to admit out loud but that would make him able to swim to the other side of the Great Line if needed, if it afforded him the chance to hold her in his arms just once more… 

The fact that he ignores his own name is what troubles him the most. As he regained consciousness he knew, without the need to observe his body and touch his face, that he’s a male, relatively young -not a kid by any means, but a still young adult- taller than average and fitter than most. He doesn’t have a mirror, and his hair is too short to move a lock in front of his eyes to check, but after a brief inspection on his arms he’s pretty sure it’s dark, and curly and soft to the touch; his skin is fair, and he has a short beard, moustaches, and sideburns. A pleasant face, it would seem, or at least well-groomed, just like his clothes are practical but elegant: he likes the flower-decorated jacket, and his boots are sturdy and of good quality. Is he a wealthy man? Or perhaps simply a fashion lover? Maybe he’s a tailor, used to wearing his own creations… 

Still, his clothes are not the items he has observed with the most interest; it's the sword, the only object present on the ship and large enough to occupy most of the space. 

It's huge, and beautiful, with its black blade and ornate hilt; it looks heavy, but when he attempted to lift it the sword felt perfect for his hands, durable and powerful, and while swinging it around on such a tiny ship, with the only mast within reach, would have had disastrous consequences, one fact is sure: he’s a swordsman, a probably powerful one, and this is his weapon. 

He has a beautiful sword, here in his hands, and a beautiful woman, potentially far but who’s surely waiting for his return. All things considered, it could have been worse.

Finally, the island’s harbour appears in front of him; his cruise has reached his end, in a few minutes he’ll be able to eat his full  -he doesn’ have any money with him, so how he’ll be able to pay for his meal remains a mystery, but still- and even search for a doctor to help him. In truth, medical attention seems to be the most urgent need, no matter how his stomach is growling: steering the ship feels more and more tiring with every passing minute, and at times it’s like he can’t properly focus on the scene in front of his eyes, as if he were looking at the world through a dense fog…

It’s going to be alright. I’ll find people who’ll help me. Who know me. I’ll find her. I’ll be fine. I just need to endure for a little longer…

The harbour is unexpectedly busy for such a small island, but finally he’s leaving the ship’s deck to step onto the gangplank, and immediately regrets it when a sudden bout of vertigo makes him stumble. The sword, that he has fastened to his back and that at first felt almost light, as if his body were already used to carrying it around even though he couldn’t remember ever doing it, is suddenly as heavy as a boulder. 

He tries grabbing the handrail to support himself, but his hand slips from the metal bar, and a moment later he’s on his knees; chatter rises around him, the alarmed voices of people who have noticed his distress and are approaching to help, and that is kind of them but it’s bad for him, because he’s not the sort of man who asks for, or even just accepts, help, not even if his very life were on the line…

“Are you alright?” 

He’s sweating, which is not surprising given the hot weather, but it’s not the sort of perspiration one can get rid of with a cold bath; still kneeling, he tries desperately to focus, to return the gaze of the many people who are now surrounding him, offering help -you want me to call for someone? Are you sick?- including an older man who has kneeled right in front of him, and who is saying words he can’t understand, and who wears an uniform he recognises, even though he can’t remember whether he has seen one before: he’s the harbourmaster. 

His mouth feels parched; he tries wetting his lips, but uselessly. “(name).” he murmurs, turning blindly all around him. Why is it so dark? “I’m looking for (name). Is there a woman… with her name… here?”

An excited murmuring follows; they know her, he thinks, relief filling him like a wave, but he can’t understand, can’t hear or see properly either, and who knows how long has it been since his last drop of water, not to mention his last meal…

“Please… please, I need to find her… It’s important…” 

“It’s alright, son.” the harbourmaster tells him, clearly alarmed by the state of the half-dead swordsman who has just stumbled on his pier; he nods in the direction of someone else, who quickly abandons the small crowd “We’ll call her.”

They do know her. They know how to find her! “Really?”

“Of course. I promise, we’ll tell her you’re here. What’s your name?”

If only I knew it, he thinks morosely, and alarm fills him; what if (name) refuses to meet him because she doesn’t know he is the one looking for her? 

“I don’t know.” he admits; he has no reason to feel ashamed, but he does “But I know… I know that I love her.”

A moment later he’s laying on the gangplank, the distant cry of a seagull brushing against his ear before his conscience succumbs into the abyss once more. 

*

You find yourself whistling softly as you cross the fortress’ main gate, having refused the harbourmaster’s offer to call for your carriage. A nice walk is just what you need after two full days of navigation back from the Marines HQ, especially on such a fine day, the sun almost blinding in the cloudless sky above you. You can’t remember the last time you felt in such a good mood; you’ll tell your mother about your latest success, have a bath, take a nap, and then take care of the no doubt numerous tasks and issues that have piled up in your absence. Sounds like a plan, you think, still unaware of what the rest of the day - no, what the next ten minutes have in store for you.

“Welcome home, my lady.”

“Thank you. Please have our bookkeeper take care of this.” you instruct one of the servants who have greeted you, entrusting him with the parcel Vice-Admiral Garp put in your hands two days ago, and that you have just retrieved from the hidden pocket inside your skirt “Half of it to the fortress’ treasure, half to whoever here on the island needs it the most.”

“It will be done, my lady.” the man in livery answers with a slight bow “And there is a matter that requires your attention.”

“What is it? Is something wrong?”

“No, nothing of the sort; it’s just…” the three people in front of you, all of whom have served in your home for years, exchange a look, as if they didn’t know how to describe the issue they are bringing to your attention “Three days ago a… guest has reached the island, looking for you. He was very sick, so your lady mother decided to entrust him to the fortress’ doctor.”

“Of course, that was the right thing to do. Who is it?”

“Forgive me, my lady, but it’s better if you saw him with your own eyes.”

Curious, you move in the direction of the guest room on the first floor, where your mysterious visitor has been residing since the doctor decided there was no need to keep him in the infirmary. Who could it be? It can’t be simply one of your friends from out of the island, there would be no need to be so secretive about it; and since you’ve always been careful not to reveal the name of your island to the people you meet on the job -informants, victims… the lovers you occasionally take during your travels to make sure your reputation remains immaculate when you’re home…- it can’t be any of them. Then who…?

Oh, Gods. It’s Theon, is it not?, you wonder with a sigh as you cross the corridor; your cousin would have no reason to visit, since he knows well you don’t like him anymore than he likes you, which is very little, but for a few years you’ve had the impression he has designs on your role as the island’s future ruler, and that he’s trying to convince your mother to exclude you from the line of succession in his favour. Which would never happen, of course, but still; you’d rather receive the visit of a Navy Admiral at the head of a Buster Call fleet than his. 

Your mother and the doctor are standing in front of one of the guest rooms, engaged in a whispered conversation that quickly ceases when they see you come; the man bows slightly before leaving, and your mother offers you her hands to take, smiling warmly as you exchange a kiss.

“How are you, my love?”

“Ninety-two million berry.” you announce proudly, and with reason: it’s the highest bounty you’ve ever earned, and even Garp complimented you when you presented him the severed head of your quarry. The captain you have captured was a known pirate and a fearsome combatant, not as much as him, of course, no, this guy -who didn’t expect the woman he had casually met in an inn and had offered to buy him a drink was a bounty hunter with a derringer and a round already in the chamber as she let him led her to the back of the building for some alone time- could never hold a candle to the man you have hunted for almost a decade and never been able to capture. He’s still stronger, smarter, more resourceful than you; you had to admit it, at least in the privacy of your heart, after your latest encounter, four months ago, when you failed to capture him for the hundredth time. But he won’t be forever, you have promised yourself as you licked your wounds; one day he’ll make a mistake, or at least lower his attention for more than three seconds. That’s all you need. “I’m unharmed, he didn’t even realise I was going to shoot him until it was too late. Not bad, right?”

“You’ve been great; I’m sure your grandfather would be proud. You visited that restaurant you told me about?” she asks, already well aware of your habits; every time you collect a bounty, you treat yourself to a nice meal, or occasionally a new dress, and then devolve the rest of the bounty to the well-being of your people, or your land. You don’t exactly need the money; that’s not why you do it, but it would be pointless not to use it, wouldn’t it?

“I did, and the black cod with miso was even more delicious than I expected; next time we’ll go together. Mother… who is this visitor we received?”

“Ah, yes…” 

Now serious, your mother explains that three days ago a man arrived on the island, gravely sick and almost starving, asking for you; it’s literally everything he has been saying, during the brief moments of consciousness since his arrival. Where is (name)? I need to talk to (name). 

“Who is he?”

“That is the most peculiar thing; this man claims he has lost his memory, and the doctor concurs the result is compatible with the sort of wound he has received. Everything he seems to remember, it’s you. Your name, and your face, that I asked him to describe to make sure he wasn’t looking for another woman with your name. It’s… so unexpected…” 

“Do you know who he is?”

“I do. I had never met him before, but… well, it was easy to recognise him. He’s awake now, and the sooner you talk to him, the better.”

So it’s not your cousin. More and more intrigued, you wordlessly step closer to the door, brush your fingers against the derringer hanging from your waist -you doubt you have much to fear from this man, since apparently he was at death’s door just three days ago, but you never know- raise your hand to the door to knock, and then enter. 

The room is bathed in the early afternoon’s light, the light breeze coming from the open window gently stirring the bed’s canopy; on the wall facing the door there’s a painting depicting a pastoral scene, not exactly a masterpiece which is why you and your mother have confined it to a room you have never been in for at least a year. 

The man who has apparently lost his memory except for what concerns you is sitting on the bed, completely still as he lifts his gaze towards you. The shirt he is wearing is probably a loan from some courtier, but the sword is his: his favourite weapon, the huge black-bladed Yoru, is propped against the wall next to the bed, within reach should his owner decide to wield it. 

“(name).” he says, without a moment of doubt, just like you don’t hesitate in recognising him; how could you, when you have spent much of your life as an adult hunting him?

“You.” you murmur, completely stunned, and for a whole minute you’re completely incapable of uttering a single word more.

You are dreaming. He’s an illusion. You were wrong and it’s not him, just a man who resembles him more than a twin brother could. You quickly consider whatever options your brain supplies before dismissing each of them; you’re awake, he’s real, and by now you know this man well enough you could recognise him even with your eyes closed, and then there are his eyes, those eyes you’re ready to bet no other man in the world has and that sometimes seem to have an unexpected effect on you, as if they could see through your clothes, and even into your heart…

Before you realise, your feet have guided you to the bed. “What are you doing here?” you ask softly, before remembering that he has no way of telling you, since apparently he lost his memory. 

Still, you can’t help wondering. What brought him to your island? Was he looking for you? You really can’t think of a reason why he would do something like that -but the simple thought makes you feel… no, you better not reflect on that, because that’s a line of thinking that might end up revealing truths you’re not ready to face- but it can’t be a coincidence, can it? Your home is days of sailing away from the Marines HQ and even farther from Kuraigana Island, where he’s been residing for years; that he was in a completely different part of the sea and reached your island simply because the tides carried him there is too much of a coincidence to be believed. But then, why does he still remember your name, if he has forgotten everything else? Why was it so important that he spoke to you…?

“(name).” Mihawk murmurs after a minute, tearing you from your thoughts. He’s looking at you with an intensity that at first feels overwhelming, his bird-eyes overflowing with an emotion you can’t readily give a name to. It’s relief, and joy, and… and… desire? “It’s… it’s you, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it’s me. Mihawk, what are you…?”

“Oh… oh, Gods, I am so glad to see you!”

Those words are highly surprising to hear coming from his mouth, for several reasons - namely, taciturn and impassive as he is, Mihawk is the last man in the world you’d expect to hear express his feelings so openly, especially towards you, given the fact that while you’ve known each other for many years, you can’t exactly say you are friends. Maybe he’s still confused, you tell yourself as you do your best to ignore the slight blush that has blossomed on your face, which is probably natural given his state; your name is all he remembers, which means you’re the only person he knew he could ask for help, and anyone would find comfort, even happiness, after finding…

But if Mihawk’s declaration had surprised you, that is nothing compared to what he does, a moment later, too quickly for you to have the time to react.

Mihawk smiles -another first time, and it’s incredible how that simple expression can change his face, making him appear not only younger, but a completely different person- and despite his evident weakness he reaches out towards you, still standing next to his bed, and takes your face in his hands.

“You’re even more beautiful than I remembered.” he murmurs, affection filling his voice; a moment later he has pressed his mouth to yours in a searing, passionate kiss.

Your mind blanks out. You’re under shock; an unmistakably pleasant sensation, but traumatic nonetheless in its intensity. 

You have time to perceive how soft his mouth is, firm and warm and naturally sensual; your eyelids flutter, and your own lips part to deepen the kiss… 

And then, almost reflexively, you raise your hand and use it to slap Mihawk with all your strength across the face.

*

He has never felt so stupid.

That’s a probably meaningless claim to make, considering that his never only dates back to three days ago, but he’s nevertheless confident this moment would come out on top even if he had full access to his memories and he was an especially awkward person, prone to blunders and gaffes - which he’s not, he instinctively decides. 

He doesn’t even dare to think about the impression his gesture may have given; to kiss someone suddenly, without asking for permission, the way he did to (name) deserved more than a slap, especially after her people have taken care of him when he was already at death’s door. Shame weighs so heavy on his heart he can barely breathe; he’s not that sort of man - he doesn’t want to be, at least, and hopes he’s never been, and the last thing he wanted was to impose his attentions on (name).

But he had been so sure. Those thoughts… those images in his mind… they were together, he and (name), the love and desire and intimacy between them so intense he could have almost tasted them. He could have bet his life, without a moment of hesitation, that he and (name) were a couple, lovers or maybe even married; it would have explained why she -her name, and her lovely face- was the only thing he remembered, and why he had woken up closer to her island than to any other piece of land: he had been on his way to visit her. 

He was wrong. Sorely, acutely wrong, judging from her reaction. They clearly aren’t lovers, either official or otherwise, given her reaction to his kiss; what are they, then? They might have broken up, their relationship now belonging to the past, but… what if it was all in his head, not the memory of a real event but just a dream, maybe an illusion his mind had concocted? Maybe he has been in love with (name) without her knowing -or reciprocating- and that scene of the two of them frolicking on the grass was nothing more than wishful thinking, a desire to have his beloved by his side. Or maybe that romantic scene had been his brain’s unconscious way to tell him it was imperative that he found her and spoke to her, whatever the reason. 

At least he is pretty sure they are not related; now that would have been embarrassing, given what he did, and dreamt of doing.

“Damn me.” he swears softly; he needs (name)’s help even more desperately than he needs food, and he couldn’t blame her if the woman decided to give him the boot. He’s been so stupid, so reckless, convinced as he was that everything would be fine now that he had found his lover, and yet…

Lost as he is in his self loathing, it takes him a while to realise someone is shooting, right under his window judging from the proximity of the noise. Tension fills him: has someone come for him? Worse, is (name) in danger? What on earth is happening now?

Standing from the bed takes him an embarrassing amount of time, and he needs even more to make sure his legs can actually support him once he stops clinging to the headboard, but in the end, he’s able to walk the brief distance that separates him from the window. The shooting continues, a single bullet being fired every few seconds, and when he looks outside it becomes immediately clear that no one is in danger, and no armed assault is being moved to the fortress.

(name) is training.

The targets are lined on a fence in front of her in order of size, the biggest a tin can as large as his hand and the smallest too far for him to discern. (name) is standing perfectly still, the gun he has seen hanging from her waist during their brief encounter in her hand; she looks determined, focused, methodical, and utterly breath-taking as she shoots, hitting bullseye every time, her targets falling to the ground one after the other. In the end, the fence is bare, but (name) doesn’t seem satisfied yet; he sees her search in her skirt’s pockets, and then retrieve a single coin. She turns so that the sun is in her eyes and closes them, as if enjoying the light’s kiss on her face; a moment later she has tossed the coin in the air, her gun at the ready…

Another bullseye. 

“That was amazing.” he says without thinking, loud enough for (name) to hear; she turns, startled, her gun raised, before lowering it as she arches her eyebrow. She has changed her clothes since their first, brief encounter, but her dress is of a similar model, with a long skirt and a holster for her weapon.

“Should you be on your feet? The doctor said you’re still very weak.”

“I wanted to see who was shooting; and I feel much better, thanks to your people’s help. (name), I… I owe you an apology.”

“I agree.”

“I am sorry, truly; I…” I don’t know what came over me, he’s about to say, but the truth is that he does, even though it’s too embarrassing to share “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, or to… hurt you. I will leave, if you want me to, and never bother you again.”

She stares at him for a full minute, openly judging his sincerity; what she sees seems to please her, because a tiny smile blossoms on her lips, and “Very well.” she decides as she holsters her gun “There’s no need for you to leave, at least until you’re back to health. Give me a minute and I’ll be with you.”

He looks at her until she has disappeared through a backdoor into the fortress, and then smiles, relieved, before lowering his gaze to contemplate his body, naked under the shirt. He could go back to bed and cover himself with the sheet, but fortunately his clothes have been returned to him this morning, washed and folded; he quickly retrieves his trousers from the back of a chair, and has the time to put them on and wash his face in the water basin before a soft but firm knocking announces (name)’s arrival.

“Come in.”

She enters slowly, almost hesitating despite being in her own home; but then she smiles, and a chair is brought closer to the bed, so that they can sit face to face.

“The doctor says you’ll be fine in a few days.”

“I know; I feel better already. (name), I really am so sorry…”

She shakes her head to silence him. “I believe you; no need to talk about it again.” she points out, and he could swear he has seen a trace of blush on her face “Now… you really don’t remember anything? Not even who you are?”

“I don’t; only you. Your face… and your name. I woke up on a ship, sailed towards the closest island, and fainted on the harbour. When I woke up I was here.”

“Oh, Gods…”

A minute passes; they look at each other. “How do you feel?” (name) asks in the end, watching him closely, and suddenly he feels unable to swallow “Are you… worried? Scared?”

He reflects on the matter for a moment before answering. “I feel frustrated, because I can’t remember who I am and where I come from; and worried I will never remember, a little, because your doctor said it’s impossible to know whether it will happen, and when. But scared, no.”

“I’m not surprised; you’re not the sort of man who scares easily. I’d even say you don’t know the meaning of the word.”

There is a trace of admiration in her voice; he smiles. “Can you tell me my name? You said it before but I didn’t catch it.”

“Of course. Your name is Dracule Mihawk; many know you as “Hawk-eye” Mihawk.”

Dracule Mihawk. It’s a good, strong name, that he -that Mihawk- repeats under his breath, and while he can’t say he feels it as his own, he decides that he likes it.

“And who am I? I mean, what do I do? Do I… have a trade, or…?”

The question seems to amuse (name). “Who do you think you are?” she asks back, and once again, Mihawk takes a moment to reflect before answering, his gaze moving to the huge black sword propped against the wall a few feet from them.

“I think I’m a swordsman. It’s not just because I had that with me, I… I feel I can use it. That it’s part of me.”

“It is.”

“Am I good?”

“You are more than good; you are exceptional.” (name) explains; she speaks matter-of-factly, like a student repeating a not particularly interesting lesson to their teacher, but Mihawk could swear there is a trace of admiration in her voice “You’re known, not without reason, as the world’s strongest swordsman. You’ve conquered the title when you were still a boy, and since then no opponent has ever been able to trouble you. You’re a very powerful pirate, known in all Four Seas and across the Grand Line; you’ve vanquished countless other crews, and even the Marines have given up years ago on trying to apprehend you.”

Silence falls; Mihawk almost doesn’t realise he’s staring at her, open-mouthed, overwhelmed, disbelieving. “You are joking.”

“I promise you I’m not. You’re an extraordinary person, Mihawk; you have much to be proud of.”

Rather than proud, he feels humbled, because the last thing he feels at the moment is exceptional, powerful. The strongest swordsman in the world… if only the opponents he destroyed could see him now, barely able to stand and wield his weapon. How can he represent a threat to the military forces of the World Government, if he doesn’t even know where his home is?

(name) is still looking at him, sitting composedly on her chair, hands in her lap, empathy and compassion evident on her face. Her mother is the island’s lady, the doctor has mentioned to him that morning, and she’s the future ruler of that small but wealthy fief. Mihawk can clearly see the refinement and elegance she exudes, not simply in her clothes and discreet but precious jewels, it’s something more…

She is one of a kind; steel under velvet, much more clever and dangerous than many would expect from a pretty noble lady. Even in the midst of his vast ignorance Mihawk is sure of it, but there’s something else he needs to know…

“And you?” he murmurs, leaning forward until he and (name) are almost breathing the same air; he can feel his heart pounding, as if his very life depended on the answer he’s going to receive. For all he knows it could; he certainly feels that it does “Who are you, (name)?”

Who are you for me? What are we? Why do I still remember you even though I forgot everything else? Why do I feel that I love you, and that I did it even before all of this?

“Me?” she asks, and now she’s not simply smiling; she is grinning, openly amused, unlike him well aware of the absurdity of their situation “I am the bounty hunter who has sworn to kill you.”

* 

Mihawk refused to use a cane, but (name) has convinced him to lean on her arm, at least for the brief walk towards the fortress’ gardens. His fair complexion does not agree with a man who spends much time outside, but Mihawk feels better, after three days spent locked in a room. A maid has brought tea and a little food, and he enjoys the drink while (name), sitting by his side on a wooden bench, tells him about him and, consequently, about herself.

They have met for the first time as teenagers, the woman explains, when she was just starting out as a bounty hunter -literally starting out; it was my first assignment- and he an up-and-coming swordsman who had been challenged to a duel by the man (name) had decided to neutralise. Years later, their paths crossed once again, when the woman, by now an experienced killer, decided to make him the next item on her list of victims.

“And I escaped?”

“You did. That time and, it pains me to say, all the ones that followed.”

(name) is one of the most capable bounty hunters allied with the World Government, she explains without false modesty; ever since she started, and especially as she gained experience and refined her technique, very few targets have escaped her, and no one has done it twice. 

No one apart from him.

“How many times have I… escaped you?” Mihawk asks; the situation, he sitting peacefully side by side with a woman who has attempted to kill him and who is now hosting him in her house, is more than a little surreal, but Mihawk can’t help finding it amusing, and given the barely concealed smile on (name)’s lovely lips, he’s not the only one.

“I have lost count. Believe me, it’s… it’s more than a little frustrating; I know I can’t beat you on the physical level, but I have already neutralised many powerful pirates. I’m a bounty hunter, not a warrior; I usually sneak up on them, waiting for them to be too relaxed or unharmed to react, put a bullet in their head, end of the story. With you… I don’t know what else to do. I’ve reached the end of my rope.”

“Well, I guess it’s harder to be caught off guard when you already know the face of the person who wants to kill you.”

“True; but it’s not just that. I’ve tried everything, but you keep escaping me; who knows.” (name) admits with a sigh “Maybe it’s simply impossible - you are simply impossible. So many great swordsmen haven’t been able to beat you, no matter how hard they trained; perhaps it’s the same for me, and you’ll always be the one man I can’t capture, the one failure on an otherwise impeccable curriculum.”

Mihawk grins; he can’t help it. “I’m sorry I’m such a source of embarrassment for you.”

“Don’t be; I can’t very well blame you for doing your best to stay alive, can I?”

They both reflect on the matter as they enjoy their tea. Whatever he might have expected from his encounter with (name), it wasn’t this, Mihawk reflects; the woman he thought was his partner, maybe even his wife, is actually a killer who clearly would like nothing better than to neutralise him and earn his bounty. He has seen with his eyes how capable she is as a markswoman, and wouldn’t be surprised to know (name) has hunted him across the Grand Line, risking her own life for a chance to put a bullet through his skull. He wonders if the old him, before he lost his memory, simply did his best to survive, or if he ever fought back; if he was -if he is- such a formidable swordsman and pirate, why didn’t he simply kill her, to save himself the trouble of having to watch his back all the time?

Because you are in love with her, that’s why; she would give half of her blood to kill you, but you couldn’t even harm a hair of her head. Maybe you were even happy about those attempts on your life, because they meant yet another occasion to meet her…

It’s vaguely pathetic, but Mihawk can’t bring himself to be sorry for it.

“You know.” he begins after a while, his cup now only half full “I would have no way to defend myself if you attacked me now. I left my sword in my room, and I’m not even sure I would be able to lift it weak as I am; you could call your guards, have me restrained, and shoot me in the head.”

(name) looks at him, clearly unimpressed. “You really think I would do something like that? What sort of person do you take me for?”

“I meant no disrespect; but please remember that from my point of view we have known each other for half an hour. You and your people have taken care of me, but you did say you have tried to kill me several times.”

“True.” she admits; she bites her lip, as if embarrassed for having judged him unfairly, and Mihawk discovers he can’t look away “But believe me, I could never take advantage of a man in your state. First of all, if a man, any man, arrives at my door asking for help, I’m going to give it to him; I couldn’t look at myself in the mirror otherwise. Also, I don’t simply want to pocket your bounty; if I hunt you, it’s because I want to prove how capable I am - more capable than you. That is why I never attempted to poison your drink, or to sink your ship in the middle of the Sea; I would find no satisfaction in winning without a fair fight.”

Mihawk smiles. “So it’s a matter of honour.”

“I knew you would understand. With most people I wouldn’t bother, but you… you, Mihawk, are a special case.”

She is smiling as well now, her gaze that after a moment drops to the cup on her lap; she hasn’t blushed, Mihawk doubts she’s that sort of person, but the chaste intimacy of that moment is too intense for either of them to ignore.

Have you really attempted to kill me, (name)? Every single time? Or have you prayed in your heart I could escape you once again, torn between your duty and your feelings?

It’s only wishful thinking, clearly; the fact that she hasn’t pointed her gun to his forehead as soon as she recognised him and didn’t take advantage of his weakened state means she’s an honourable woman, not that she’s the sort of hunter who falls in love with her prey. He’ll have to depart as soon as he’s strong enough to, even if his memory won’t have returned by then, it wouldn’t be fair to take advantage of (name)’s hospitality… and he doubts she’ll want him there in any case.

“Good to know…”

“So you’re going to nurse me back to health and then release me to the wild, as if I were a prized buck?”

“Well, I don’t plan on mounting your head on my wall, but yes, that’s the gist of it.”

They share a grin; a moment later (name)’s hand is resting on his, her touch delicate but firm. “You’ll have nothing to fear as long as you remain in this house.” she murmurs; she’s not looking at him, but Mihawk can’t help perceiving the determination in her voice “You have my word.”

He nods, not trusting himself to speak; the impulse of turning his hand to intertwine their fingers is so intense he has to force himself to remain still.

“Does the name Shanks mean anything to you?” (name) asks after a while. Mihawk shrugs; considering that his own name didn’t evoke any particular emotion, he doubts he’d recognise another’s. 

“Who is it?”

Red-Haired Shanks is a -perhaps the only- friend of his, (name) tells him, a well-known pirate he has fought many times already; he is probably the person who can tell Mihawk the most about himself, since they’ve known each other for years. 

“I can try and find where he is.” the woman proposes; she seems sincerely eager to do something for him, which makes Mihawk feel something he’s not sure he has the courage to analyse “Since he’s a pirate he obviously doesn’t have a permanent address, but I’m pretty sure there are a number of islands under the protection of his crew; I could find a way to send him a letter there, or to have someone give him my Den Den Mushi number.”

In his heart, Mihawk is not sure it’d help; after all even his best friend wouldn’t be able to do much more than telling him things about himself, which is only useful to a certain extent, and since his memories don’t seem about to return when (name) herself is doing it, why would it be different if Shanks were in her place? Still, he has no better option, and since it was (name) who proposed it…

“That’d be very kind of you. Thank you, (name); I am really grateful.”

*

Having finished their tea, they take a short stroll in the gardens, surrounded by the lush vegetation that, (name) explains, is her mother’s pride and joy. Mihawk asks her to tell him all she knows about his past, which, it turns out, it’s plenty: even though they’re not exactly friends, she’s the sort of person who prepares meticulously for every assignment she accepts, and she has gathered plenty of information on her favourite target.

“I’m not exactly sure where you were born, but when the papers first started to write about you you were on the Grand Line, which suggests you came from there. You’ve been living for a few years on an island called Kuraigana.”

“Alone?”

“Very alone, considering that as far as I know the place was abandoned before you arrived there; there are probably animals in the woods, but nothing more. That I know of, at least; not that… I’ve ever been there…”

Mihawk could swear she’s embarrassed, even though he can’t begin to know why. 

“No, I mean…” he begins, and then he hesitates “... do I have a family…? Am I…”

Gods, he can’t even say it, let alone sound nonchalant as he does it.

“... married…?”

“Oh! I don’t believe so; I mean, you’re a quite solitary person, and I never heard about you having a partner. Then again, as I said I have never been on your island, so for all I know you could have a spouse and five children waiting for you on Kuraigana. And with regard to your family…”

She’s biting her lip again. “There’s something I found out years ago, as I researched you. I don’t want you to think I was snooping around, sticking my nose in your personal business, I just wanted to know more about you to find out if you had a weak point.”

“And I do?”

“Not that I have found. Anyway, I met this woman, who told me she had worked for your family when you were young. Your mother… your mother died in childbirth, and your father remarried when you were seven. I don’t know why exactly, but by that time you had already left the house… together with your sister.”

His sister was much older than him, she tells him, and more or less raised Mihawk in the place of their mother: they were very close, until… until the woman was killed, the night before her own wedding, but not by a robber she had caught in her home or a former suitor who didn’t accept she had moved on.

“He was mainly known as The Blue Crane, and he was… well, he was the world’s strongest swordsman before you. According to your old maid, he came into the house while you weren’t there, and killed your sister; I have no idea why, perhaps he wanted to provoke you. And then you returned, and killed him; that is how you conquered your title.”

He stops; he’s tired already, despite the brief distance he has covered at a sedate pace, but that is not the only reason why he can’t wait to return to his room - alone, preferably, no matter how much he enjoys (name)’s company.

“I’m so sorry, Mihawk. Maybe I shouldn’t have told you…”

He forces himself to smile. “No; it’s fine, I’m glad you did. A sister… I can’t even begin to understand what it feels like.”

(name), who is also an only child, nods silently. “I’m sorry.” she murmurs once again, and now she seems frustrated, as if well aware of the uselessness of her words “I shouldn’t have…”

“Forgive me, my lady.” 

Neither had noticed that one of the fortress’ servants had joined them; the man bows low, and Mihawk has to force himself not to glare.

“Yes?”

“There’s a call on your Den Den Mushi, my lady. Vice-Admiral Garp.”

(name) tenses.

“Who is this man?”

“My contact with the Marines; he’s usually the one who pays me when I bring in a bounty. He might have a new job for me, it wouldn’t be the first time, but…”

She turns to him, steel in her gaze. “I’ll talk to him. You want me to accompany you to your room?”

“There’s no need. I… I’ll see you later.”

She winks. “Of course; you can’t escape me, can you?”

Mihawk looks at her go, followed by the servant. Once alone, he lets his feet bring him back to the bench, where a by now cold half-pot of tea is waiting - an image that could fittingly describe his life, Mihawk ruefully thinks; he sits, to the relief of his already tired legs, and looks at the suddenly darkening sky, wishing he could read his future in the clouds, like some people claim to be able to do. Perhaps it’d be happier than his past, or his present; it could hardly be glummer.

The only surviving member of his family. A single friend in the world, who he doesn’t even know how to contact. The woman he was -is- in love with is only waiting for him to once again represent a valid challenge before hunting him down and killing him. And on top of all the rest, he has no idea when his memories will return.

Mihawk is not fully sure he wants them to.