#and then 20 times a day during the almost year they spent apart

[tiffanylamps]

han joo won your life is a hallmark movie

[sahisan]

— curiousity killed the cat.

featuring . pm!dazai osamu.

tags . suggestive, so slight nsfw. civilian!gn!reader. dazai's a bit sick. just pmzai things yk (he's scary). weapons described (he has a gun). blood mentioned. gunplay mentioned (brief suggestive description). wc 1.8k.

author note . this is so random i don't even know if the paragraphs do well together bc i just poured my most random thoughts into it and i was sleepy and barely managed to proofread it. yep. i imagined mostly 20-22!pmzai here.

dazai hid many things. he hid them well; years of being on constant standby, awaiting, on guard about anything enemy or not related. he hid in the shadows no matter day or night, but the shadows didn't always necessarily mean him only scrambling around in narrow alleyways or in the safety of the headquarters—in reality, he spent little time in the latter, nor did he 'lurk in the shadows' often, unless on a mission.

he hid everything from everyone, including you; of course including you. and the thing that bothered him the most was you finding out about what he does. did. has done. keeps on doing every day. not only does he not want the port mafia's countless enemies to know about you, but dazai also dreads the thought of you getting even a little bit closer to the truth of what he does for a living. he thinks of how he might slip one day and just reveal his true nature, intentionally or not, and either let you be disgusted and scared or kill you immediately because you might report to the police; it bothers him in both ways.

dazai avoids the area of your home when out at work. he makes sure to put on some casual clothes before visiting your place. when things are bad, work routine and you colliding together closer to night, he makes sure to hold a small bottle of hydrogen peroxide in his inner pocket to quickly wash away the stains of blood from his clothes. he keeps a bit of cologne there as well, to hide the stench of blood he usually reeks of during the day—he doesn't even use cologne daily. if you need him right after work, he disposes of his weapons, giving them away to the underlings that follow his word.

everything is always under control.

like tonight. he'd had a "kill and dispose" assignment, after which he'd had to go to yours and spoil you with a movie night he promised you. ah, the long-awaited respite from everyday bloodshed.

yet he was still on guard; he always has been, but today was busy and rough and all he needed was your embrace and a movie as a background noise while he showered you with kisses and cuddled you with neverending hugs.

and dazai forgot.

already at your doorstep, already having ringed the bell by your front door when dazai looked down at himself and—

fuck.

there was a small but clear blood stain right next to his tie. ah. how great. he definitely won't have time to remove it, but he might try to win some time to divert your attention from it if you notice—and you will, if he doesn't do anything about it.

with the door opening, dazai threw himself at you, literally waltzing into your apartment, hip to hip, your left hand in his right and his left hand at your waist, he led you through the corridor in an almost hasty improvisation of a dance, causing his tie to sway just in the right direction and have you giving him a look that screamed "you and your antics again?". good.

"ah, you look especially divine tonight," he mused, nuzzling your neck and making you place your chin on his shoulder; very good, the stain was out of your sight at least for now, and he couldn't be happier about that. "i haven't had dinner yet but i already know what i want for dessert."

distract. distract and avert and keep away—best tactic of dazai's that rarely failed, and he was used to putting it to use everywhere he could, including you. you could be perceptive or gullible, didn't matter—it worked wonders on anyone and will continue working for as long as he wanted to.

dazai swayed you around a few more times, dancing his way into your living room while humming a nauseatingly sweet, random tune he made up in his head a second ago. hip against yours again, he let a content smirk wash over his lips.

a clank. soft, quiet sound of metal clanking once echoed through the room, and it was almost eerie silence aside from his barely audible humming just as his hipbone met yours.

that didn't sound good, considering the only thing on his hip was—

ah. dazai forgot two things tonight.

in reverie about cursing himself head to toe in his mind, he lost the sensation of your touch until it felt too suspicious and he was too late, you reaching for the side hem of his coat and tugging it away from his side to reveal it to the light. you were always so curious, and he couldn't tell whether it was bad or good for him in general.

the soft clink echoed once more as your fingers grazed the object, and his eyes narrowed. the gun. shit. in his distracted state, he'd forgotten to dispose of it along with wiping away the blood.

dazai's hand shot out from beneath the coat, and he knew he wasn't doing himself a favor by raising his hand to grab yours, only revealing the holster further, but he didn't necessarily give a shit right now. he ought to do more than care about the gun right now, like a proper boyfriend, first being calming you down and assuring you it's not loaded and isn't as scary as it looks and that you shouldn't be afraid and the second being change of course of the conversation so seamlessly that you forget about the weapon for the rest of the night at least (unfortunately, the last sentence never crossed his mind).

but when did dazai ever go according to an adequate plan?

his hand held yours in the air, palm gliding up and down your inner forearm, trying to, first, soothe every negative emotion that might come up on the surface of your face, as well as keeping your curious hand away.

"ah-ah-ah, how naughty," dazai purred, voice dripping with false sweetness even as his eyes glinted with dangerous amusement; what he was supposed to be doing absolutely slipped from his thoughts the second he sensed the quickening of your heartbeat and breath and the cautious halting and tensing of your body against his, and he was already getting hard just from this. sick. "what did i tell you about wandering hands, hmm?"

he ground his hips against yours once after that, letting you feel the growing hardness in his pants. distraction. that was the key. keep you focused on his body, on the pleasure he could give you, and you'd forget all about that pesky gun in no time.

“careful there, baby. wouldn’t want you to accidentally shoot yourself,” he said with a twisted, growing grin. his other hand, previously holding your left one, slid away from it to cup your cheek, thumb brushing along your jawline in a mockery of tenderness, visible eye looking down at your mouth.

"i'd hate to see those pretty lips marred by blood."

and yet, once he'd lifted his eyes up to yours, dazai could feel you tense under his touch, heart racing beneath your skin. he knew that look in your eyes, that widening of your pupils; he was all too familiar with it. fear. he had been so focused on the thrilling, twisted satisfaction the situation brought him momentarily, that he hadn't noticed how his actions were affecting you. his grip on your wrist loosened, his thumb tracing soothing circles on your inner wrist.

dazai sighed, deciding it was time to stop scaring you with both his demeanor and the weapon, even if it wasn't what he wanted right now at all; he had a switch to pull off, an appearance to keep up in front of you. ah, but how he'd love to prolong that moment for just a little longer: your fear palpable in the air, that scared glance you cast at him once, the trembling of your hands, hitch in your breathing and increase of your heartbeat.

maybe later.

"easy, easy," he murmured, voice low and soothing even as his mind raced. he tapped the holster twice. "it's not loaded, see?" a lie. "just a little souvenir," a lie. the gun was always loaded, ready to be drawn at a moment's notice, but you surely didn't need to know that. he'd already subjected you to more horror than a civilian would need to witness.

dazai leaned in closer, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he spoke. "you know i'd never be involved with these types of things and would never hurt you, right?" honey-sweet, dripping with false sincerity words. what he was absolutely best at was lying and manipulating, and he couldn't even control it anymore; if he needed you to believe, he will make you believe, one way or another.

"but you also shouldn't go poking around where you don't belong," he purred lowly with an audible dangerous lilt to his tone, lips now moving lower and ghosting over the sensitive skin of your neck. "who knows what kind of trouble you might find yourself in. curiosity killed the cat, you know. you never know when you'll be the cat. and I'm not sure i'd be able to live with myself if something happened to you."

dazai could try to keep you away from his sicko tendencies and mind and thoughts that were all over the place and mingled together; the thoughts of protecting you from all of this meeting the ones of putting that gun to better use that just shooting people. and right now, he was barely holding it all in.

think of it this way: the thoughts of keeping his precious favourite civilian away from the corrupted knowledge and pain and feeling you tremble in fear underneath him, with the barrel of his gun tracing over your bare skin and getting dangerously close to where you'd need him most? oh, did the latter make dazai's stomach contort with desire and hips buckle up into yours. he would have to think more clearly about this later when his head wasn't a wreck of everything at once, but now...

"you want to play with something hard, baby?" dazai murmured in the end, all sultry and beaming with desire. "i'll give you something much better than a piece of metal to wrap your pretty fingers around."

dazai was sick and his mind twisted and he didn't get how he could ever keep someone like you by his side, but he supposed it was fate; and for as long as fate was merciful to him, he would make good use of it.

"but behave, hmm?"

[ellethespaceunicorn]

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

Landlord!Ari + being caught watching you while you sleep

Well, it took me a couple of days but I did it!! Oh, and it's the longest drabble in the world. Did y'all know a drabble is only 100 words???? I thought it was 100-500...I still wrote way more than that, but still.

Title: No Good Deeds

Rating: Explicit, 18+, Minors - DNI

Pairing: Landlord!Ari Levinson x Reader

Word Count: 1.6K

Summary: Moving out on your own is challenging, but your landlord, Mr. Levinson is kind and helpful. But he may want more from you than your tenancy.

Prompt: Landlord!Ari + being caught watching you while you sleep

Warnings: age gap (Ari is mid-40s, Reader is early-20s), yandere Ari, drugging, non-con fingering (f receiving), non-con p-in-v intercourse, non-con creampie, choking, dead dove: do not eat

A/N: Hahahaha this was supposed to be a drabble. Thank you to @peyton-warren for the beta!

Dividers by: @firefly-graphics

Support/Reblog banner by me

Cover Art by me

My Masterlist

Moving out on your own isn’t exactly the easiest thing for you. You spent four years living in your college dormitory, but you always had at least one roommate. So, signing a lease and accepting the single set of keys was a huge accomplishment.

Your landlord, Mr. Levinson, is so great. He told you to call him Ari more than once. From the first tour of the apartment to the day of your move-in, he offers his help in many ways. Where the best farmer’s market is, how to reach him if you need any repairs, and even when the local bars close are just a few tidbits he leaves you with.

You get to know him a bit more during a block party one Saturday night. The two of you talk over cheap beer, tamales from Señora Cruz, smoked brisket from Mr. Lorenzo, and lasagna from Mrs. Di Paolo. Ari seems like he is lonely, and your kind heart can’t stand to see someone in need. 

Before you know what you are getting into, you agree to have a weekly tea date with him. It’s during one of those visits that you realize that something is a bit odd about Ari. He tries to cover up how he knows what cabinet you keep your tea in, but he makes up some dumb excuse that it would just be “the perfect spot”.

You excuse yourself to the bathroom as he busies himself with setting the tea, and when you come back, a steaming mug is waiting for you on a saucer on your coffee table. Usually, you make the tea, but Ari wanted to help out, and you had a long day at work, so you accepted.

“What is in this tea? It’s almost spicy,” you ask, taking another big gulp of the tea you don’t recognize.

“Is it spicy? Well, it does have ginger and cinnamon in it. Some chamomile, too. A little benzodiazepine in there,” Ari clambers on, trailing off at the end.

“D-did you say benzo…dia…zep,” you slur, reaching for Ari as you sit on the couch, but you end up passing out with your head in his lap.

When you come to, you struggle to remember what happened. Your heavy head pounds as you turn it to the side before putting the heel of your hand to your still-closed eyes.

“Take it slow, Bunny. You must’ve been really tired,” he consoles, from the other side of your bed.

“Mr. Levin-”

“Uhn uh. Call me Ari; no more of that Mr. Levinson polite shit, ok?” he swears for the first time in your presence.

“Um, Ari… What are you doing in my bedroom?” you ask, your mind a blank slate from earlier.

“Oh, Bunny. You invited me over for tea, and then you weren’t feeling well, and you asked me to stay until you felt better. Next thing I know, I’m carrying you in here because you fell asleep on me with that sweet little face of yours right in my lap,” he comforts, the knuckles of his hand sliding down your face before he boops your nose.

“Why do you keep calling me Bunny?” you mewl, still trying to get in control of all your limbs.

“When you sleep, you furrow your eyebrows and scrunch up your nose like a little bunny. It’s one of the cutest things you do,” he admires, his hand now moving down your neck and through the valley of your breasts to get to where your skirt rides up your thigh.

“Mr.-Ari…I think I feel better now; you don’t have to-” 

Your words are cut off when Ari reaches under your skirt, and you specifically remember having on panties earlier today, but his fingers are touching your tender pussy directly. Did he take off your underwear?

“Fuck, you’re so wet. Must’ve been all that time I spent rubbing your cute little cunt through those white cotton panties. God, those little moans you were making went straight to my cock, Bunny. Feel it,” he dares, grabbing your hand and resting it against the thick outline of his dick through his Wranglers. 

While your hand is on his length, he shoves two of his fingers into your wet heat. At first, you are surprised by the shock of it. But soon, you can tell that he knows how to work your body. You scream out his name, but he doesn’t stop. Instead, he shoves one hand over your mouth and gets close to your ear.

“You’re not gonna ruin this for me. You have been parading yourself around here like you’re some holier-than-thou sweet little thing. And I knew you’d end up letting me smash at some point. But I didn’t wanna wait anymore, Bunny. You have had me wrapped around that little finger of yours since you moved in. It’s time that I get what’s owed to me-what you’ve been flaunting in front of me,” he sneers, pulling his fingers out of you and sucking them clean before opening his pants and pulling his dick out.

He lines up with your sodden core before thrusting in with no grace or elegance. Slamming himself inside your tight snatch for the first time feels like he is splitting you in two. You’re no virgin, but you also don’t have much casual sex, so Ari’s thickness was a shock, to say the least.

“Sweet Bunny, you’re so tight. What a good girl! You’ve been waiting for me like I’ve been waiting for you, huh? Fuck, you’re like a fucking vice. You hear that, Bunny? Hear how that cunt loves it when I fuck it? Love that loud, sloshy pussy,” he beams, his wide hips between your legs making your joints hurt.

You’re in stunned silence as Ari uses your body to chase his release. Your mind is bringing up all the times it seemed like he was getting a little too close for comfort. All the times when he would talk to you about his divorce, or his current dating trend, or the fact that he once told you that a pretty thing like you belonged locked up in a tower for a prince to come and free you.

Did he think he was a charming prince?

“Oh, Bunny, fuck, I’m not gonna last much longer. Look at me; wanna see your eyes when I cum inside you,” he blurts, holding your face in his hands as you look into his dilated, hungry eyes. “Take it. Just. Like. That.” The last few words are punctuated with thrusts as he paints your walls with thick, milky ropes.

Once he closes his eyes, his hips remain still, and his forehead meets yours. This would be almost romantic if Ari didn’t make it beyond creepy by whispering how perfect you are and peppering kisses all over your face. His softening cock finally slips free from you, and you are happy to be empty until you feel the flow of his semen leaking from you. He notices your discomfort and mocks your whines as he pushes his jizz back into your swollen hole.

“Don’t worry, Bunny,” he starts, moving off of you to recline next to you, “Not gonna leave this bed ‘til you’re knocked up. As soon as you are, I’m gonna move you in with me. You are gonna be well taken care of, too. You are so perfect-every little thing about you. And when the baby comes, we are gonna be the perfect little family. You wouldn’t wanna ruin our family, right? You’re gonna be a good girl for me, huh?” he implores, holding your cheeks in his hand so your lips poke out a bit.

You nod while tears stream from your eyes, finding it hard to form words. But what would you have said? He seems to like you mostly silent; you haven’t uttered a single word since before he was inside you. It wasn’t too late to try, but it was too late to have hope; at least that’s what you told yourself.

“I don’t know about you, but I am starting to get hard again just looking at you. On all fours for me, Bunny. I know you got it in you,” he orders, no kindness in his voice.

You quickly scramble to get on your hands and knees for him and are happy that he is pleased with your speed. As he slides into your sensitive folds again, you grimace but hold in your noises of pain. You don’t want to give him the satisfaction of making you hurt, even though what he is doing is traumatizing. He relishes in the gushy sounds your pairing makes and the mighty “oomph” you make when he wraps an arm around your neck and flattens you down to your belly.

He has you in a chokehold while his hips canter back and forth, plunging his length deeper and deeper inside you. When he hears you start to sputter and gulp in air, he removes his arm from around your neck and holds your face cheek-down on the bed.

“Look at her, taking my cock just like she should. You’ll be the prettiest little wife and mother, won’t you? Gonna keep you nice and round as much as I can. My perfect little Bunny…ugh, fuck,” he blurts, his release surprising him suddenly.

When he pulls out, he smacks your ass and lays down next to you while your life flashes before your eyes. He moves closer to you, readjusting your body to lay on top of his as he rubs your back. He kisses the top of your head in such a kind gesture that you feel your eyes stinging with unshed tears. 

You can’t even bring yourself to fully cry, the tears streaming down your face just to splash on Ari’s denim shirt. Forgotten and dried up to never be seen again.

A/N: This was supposed to be a drabble!!!!

**Tag List**

I also didn't know who to tag since this is the first time I wrote Ari.

[theloveinc]

There's a lot of validity in the idea that older Bakugo is a traumatized pro-hero with major PTSD... but you know what's kinda fucked up to think about? The fact that Bakugo is also a 22-year-old pro-hero with major PTSD even before that, too.

It's almost easy to imagine that things are actually better when he's older (the therapy finally a routine, the trauma long set and on the path to being healed)... and that it's his whole 20s that are spent as a pool of disaster trying to recover from the war(s).

He looks back and barely even remembers being twenty, much less twenty-five or twenty-seven. Barely remembers how little he slept, not at the hands of trying to balance hero work and getting a degree at the same time, but just out of the pure insomnia that came from trying to move on and every nightmare attached.

Hardly ever showering, never shaving (not that he ever grew much of a beard, but the facial hair was definitely there. There's pictures of him on the news with an awkward, grown out haircut and patches on facial hair that make him look positively... immature), barely even eating more than a few protein bars or an energy jelly drink-a day. It's a blur, and his friends are hardly there to pick him up out of it because they're all going through it, too. Somewhat.

It's definitely weird if you meet him during this period. He's not all there, at least, not all of the time. He doesn't really register your interactions, the friendship you extend to him (a younger, or ever older, version of him would've shown you that deep seeded ferocity in response, tried to bite the hand that fed him, even if it were love... but 20s Bakugo... doesn't seem to notice). Even though only one of his eyes is clouded over, the good one never seems to brighten up.

There's definitely moments when the old him shines through: when he's with Deku, when he's in the midst of battle, when he finds out that Todoroki still does a shitty job at chopping scallions. But it's a long time before he's even close to the same, able to step out from underneath the fog of simply surviving and into the sunshine of recovering.

But I think sticking through it with him is worth it.

(It's a weird moment, a happy moment, the first time you realize that Bakugo has changed. That the pouring rain outside hasn't bothered him since he showed up at your apartment. He forgot his umbrella, he's been quite careless ever since the war—wet and shaggy hair frizzed up, cheeks red from cold—but he doesn't seem to mind, with his bare feet up on your coffee table, his eyes gazing out the window. You hand his tea, and instead of gulping it down in one go, letting it burn in his throat, he winces at the heat.

"Tastes like shit," he says, and you laugh because it always does. Just this time, he noticed.)

[queenshelby]

The Law Student (Rewritten)

Part One: Starting Out

Pairing: Cillian Murphy (20) & Reader (30)

Note: This plays in 1996, just before Cillian drops out of law school.

Today was your first day as a lecturer at the University of Cork, and you felt a mix of excitement and nervousness.

After completing your law and teaching degrees, you started working at a local law firm. You had a successful career, but your soul craved teaching and interacting with young minds.

As such, when the university at which you had studied yourself reached out to you with an irresistible offer, you couldn't turn it down.

Even though you had never lectured at a university before, you were still confident in your abilities. You knew that this where you wanted to be right now in your life and the only issue was that your ex, James, was employed there as well. 

You had been married to James for several years , but eventually, things went south and you both mutually decided to part ways. It was an unpleasant breakup that left you both drained.

James had never really forgiven you for leaving him for bigger and better things, and he constantly reminded you of the time you both spent together. You were thirty now and rented a nice apartment in the center of Cork.

You had no children with James and, luckily for you, he was a science professor rather than a professor at law, so you knew that you wouldn't see each other often. His faculty was far away from yours and, keeping that in mind, you accepted the position the university had offered you. 

*** The First Lecture ***

Your first day at the faculty  finally arrived and you stopped by to check your lecture schedule. You noticed a lecture hall number for which you had to find your way.

Arriving at the given classroom number, you glanced around the area. You felt intimidated as you entered the ancient gray lecturing hall with its high ceiling, tall windows, wooden benches and old, but friendly-looking, portraits mounted above.

A wave of anxiety came over you. The room was almost filled to capacity. Students sat scattered throughout the hall, laughing, chatting, and seemingly relaxed.

They reminded you of a wave of colors, with some sporting all black, while others wore bright, vibrant pinks and oranges.

Their expressions reflected excitement, mixed with anxiety, and you could sense the tension due to the first day of the school year.

For every person in the room, there was a unique set of circumstances that had led them to attend this lecture. This reignited your dedication towards mentoring and teaching these young minds, which eased your nerves.

Retaking a deep breath, you flashed a charming, confident smile and walked over to the lectern.

"Hello Everyone, my name is [Your Name], and I will be your Law Professor this semester," you announced, projecting your voice while placing your notes calmly down.

A sudden eruption of chatter and movement ensued as the students received this information. You took a moment to soak it all in, making sure to scan the room for any familiar faces and, of course, there were none. 

During the first year, you knew that the students would mainly be under your supervision as you taught the introductory law course, Law 101 and Law 100. You were well aware that around thirty percent of your students would not continue into the second year and you also realized that not everyone was cut out for studying law, so you made an effort to make the subject interesting for your students.

"Unfortunately for you, you will be stuck with me this year as I will be covering off all of the introductory law subjects and, whilst some of the coursework may be dry, I promise that I will make your learning experience here as enriching as I can," you continued. "What I need from you is dedication, passion, and an open mind."

You paused for a moment, drinking in the environment, and stared into the eyes of the sea of attentive young faces.

"As part of this journey, I would also like to get to know you a little better, so I have prepared some questionnaires for you all to fill out. This will help me gauge your understanding levels and any unique, personal interests or experiences you might have."

You then pulled out some sheets from your briefcase.

"Now, if you would take these out and pass them forward to the nearest person to you, and once filled in, pass them back, we can proceed to understanding who you are better."

A collective scribbling of pens ensued as students started filling out the questionnaires.

It was amazing to see the diversity that lay here before you. Each entry was a life, a story, a legacy that had individual values, fears and expectations and, after all of the students handed back their papers, you dove straight into the lecture content for which students were required to read thirty pages from their textbook. 

As you were speaking about the material covered, you noticed that a group of young men in the second row were not paying much attention to what you had to say. Instead, they were actually looking at a magazine while happily discussing its content .

You recognized their behavior as being disengaged from the lecture and, just as you were about to lower your rating for their participation, you noticed that the young man on the far left of them was pushing the magazine away.

He was staring at you now as if he was a deer caught in headlights. He knew that he had been caught for not paying attention and as you followed his line of sight, you noticed how adorably flustered he was, all pink cheeks and disheveled hair.

"Now that I have your attention, can you tell me why the judge 's rulings in this scenario would establish the doctrine of foreseeability?" you asked, addressing him directly, causing even his fellow students to put the magazine aside. 

He looked bewildered, slowly gathering his thoughts and in that moment.

Fumbling his way around the answer, his vulnerably and clearly unpracticed nature showed as his hands gripped onto a textbook placed upon his lap. The vulnerable energy exuded by this raw and real response captivated you.

"Uhm ... Mhm. Yes, well, I suppose the judge's ruling," he stammered , followed by a deafening pause while you waited for the continuation of his answer. He glanced around nervously at the other students as if seeking validation for what his answer might be. "What case was this, Miss Y/LN?" he then asked, raising his right eyebrow in genuine confusion and you couldn't help but feel even more captivated by this young man, who still seemed to be embarrassed from being caught.

He had a subtle accent that hinted at coming from the country.

"It was Hart v Hart," you explained with a smile.

"Right, sorry. It was Hart v. Hart," he repeated as he furrowed his brows and continued to examine the pages spread before him. "In Hart v. Hart, the judge  ruled that if a person engages in an inherently dangerous activity, such as driving under the influence of alcohol, then that person can be held partially liable for any harm that results from their actions even if the other driver was actually at fault," the student then explained nervously, making you realize that he had, indeed, read the prescribed reading. 

"Yes, that's correct, uhm...I am sorry, I need to really memorize all of your names. I promise, I will try," you replied, not recalling his name. 

"Cillian," he answered, holding your gaze firmly while pushing his hair back with his free hand.

The moment our eyes met, you noticed that his were the most captivating deep blue eyes you had ever seen. He flashed you an enchanting smile, and you couldn't help but become conscious of your own smile as your cheeks turned a light shade of pink.

You recovered quickly, clearing your throat and stating, "Thank you Cillian,"  as you darted your gaze back to the students before you, trying to easily move on from this moment.

As soon as you were finished with the lecture, he approached you while his friends walked out of the lecture hall, giggling and whispering to each other as they watched their friend 's interaction with you.

Cillian now stood before you, looking a tad bit intimidated as he ran his hand through his hair nervously.  

"Cillian, right?" you  asked to confirm, nodding in acknowledgment.

"Yes," he replied with a smile, his cheeks turning a soft shade of pink.

"How can I help you?" you asked, your curiosity welling up due to his lingering presence, as you noticed the intense look in his eyes.

"Well, I just," he stammered. "I am sorry about earlier Miss Y/LN ," he said sincerely, averting his gaze, manifesting in a newfound confidence that, surprisingly, didn't intimidate you at all.

"It's alright. It happens," you admitted with a chuckle.

"So we are good?" he asked, lifting his gaze back to yours.

"Yes, we're grand," you confirmed with a smile, finding his nerves endearing.

The way he was fidgeting before you reminded you of a curious young boy rather than a young university student.

"Okay. Good," Cillian murmured, the relief washing over him. He smiled again, exposing his dimples. "Then, have a good day, Miss Y/LN," Cillian stammered, glancing at you one more time before walking away to follow his friends. 

*** Cillian's POV ****

"Someone has a thing for our new professor," his friend Ben teased as Cillian walked over to them, and they left the building together.

"Don't be an eejit ," Cillian replied, playfully shoving his best friend as his cheeks burned up. "I was just trying to be polite ," he muttered, feeling flustered at being put on the spot.

Ben and the others laughed, enjoying the spectacle of their now clearly flustered friend.

Ben shook his head amused. "Suuuure!" he drawled, skepticism oozing from his tone. "You could have fooled us, because you sure looked like you could hardly take your eyes off her," he continued, teasing him relentlessly.

"She's our teacher for fuck sake," he retorted and it was rare for Cillian to get flustered like that, but there was something about you that drew him in.

"And she is one good looking MILF," Ben quipped and they all burst into laughter at his comment, but Cillian couldn't help the feeling of annoyance bubbling inside of him. He couldn't exactly say why, but the thought of his friends objectifying you made him angry.

You were smart and confident, and Cillian had to admit that your intellect intrigued him, but it was more than that. He couldn't explain it and tried to simply ignore his attraction towards you, hoping it would go away. Cillian knew that he had to focus on his studies and his future career prospects even though his passions were laying elsewhere. Law was not for him but, even at twenty years of age, he had yet to realize what his real calling was.

His father had always been proud of Cillian and supported his education, but at the same time, he, like many fathers of his generation, believed in the importance of material success. Law was a well-paid profession and, at least in his father's eyes, Cillian not having chosen a suitable career path yet was a source of concern.

His mother, on the other hand, had recognized the fire in his eyes at a young age.

She sensed his innate desire to create and to perform. Even at fifteen, he would spend hours, almost obsessively, learning musical pieces and theatre scripts. He found beauty in unfolding stories told through music and film and, by sixteen, he was performing with a band - an unstable career path, one that wavered with uncertainty.

His heart and soul belonged to art and performance, but the fear of letting his father down haunted him a little so he went to law school instead. 

*** Your POV ***

The fact that law wasn't his calling also became evident to you when you began to read the questionnaire Cillian had submitted.  It contained answers that demonstrated genuine interest in the subject, but at the same time, you noticed that he had written entire paragraphs about his passion for theater and music.

You smiled at this realization.

You chose to believe that some people simply haven't yet found the courage to pursue what they truly loved and you pondered about how often this happened when it came to students choosing courses and careers in college.

Most of them were at an age where they were experimenting and discovering who they were, what they liked, and what they weren't particularly fond of.

It was during this period of self-discovery that many of them realized that their passions lay elsewhere - that their more practical choices were not aligned with their true callings.

As you continued to read through Cillian's questionnaire, you realized that his passion for acting became apparent in his answers. The cases he chose to delve into on the questionnaire were cases that were made more interesting due to their underlying personal and emotional aspects rather than just the black tops and white bottoms of legal principles.

He related these cases to his own experiences in story telling. For instance, in answering a question about an interesting case of tort law, he wrote about "The Deer Hunter" movie and the emotional turmoil the character had to go through due to his experiences in the war. He then compared this scenario to what happened in the case and his answer grabbed your attention not only due to the co-relation between the movie and the case, but also because it pulled at your heartstrings and made you feel something profound and unforgettable.

Cillian had a way with words, and you found yourself reading through Cillian's answers multiple times, simply because they were so much more than just the mere facts.

He weaved stories within stories, connecting the dots between fiction and reality, between law and life. You recognized a young, fresh, and overflowing talent in him, although clearly, this talent was not going to be one in law. 

*** The following two weeks ***

Over the next two weeks , you spent a considerable amount of time crafting the perfect lecture content for your students, ensuring it catered for their different learning styles.

You designed a series of hands-on workshops for your students and introduced practical lessons to illustrate the concepts learned in your lectures. It was important to you to teach them in an engaging and interactive manner so that they would have greater retention and overall understanding of the concepts.

For each workshop, you created different scenarios where students would have to analyze, argue, and debate the legal issues presented before them.

This allowed them to think critically, discuss differing viewpoints, and most importantly, experience firsthand what it was truly like to be a lawyer.

In doing this, you incorporated your own past experiences as well. This allowed you to connect with your students on a personal level while teaching them valuable communication skills that they could use for their future careers.

Cillian, for instance, showed remarkable passion for this type of activity, demonstrating an ability to argue thoughtfully and eloquently, while always remaining respectful when disagreeing with his classmates and you couldn't help but praise him for his particpation.

"Dude, you are trying way too hard," Ben teased Cillian after the workshop which was a comment you overheard but chose to ignore.

Instead, you observed Cillian share a look of irritation with his friend. "I am not even trying, seriously," he replied flatly with an eye roll that made you stifle a giggle.

"Yes you are. You are trying hard to impress our professor, whom you still have a massive crush on. You are nowhere near as engaged in Torts and Contracts," Ben retorted, poking fun at his best friend, causing him to blush with embarrassment.

"Shut up man. I am not having a crush on her," Cillian muttered, trying to downplay it while you found this exchange rather amusing, overhearing it while still grading student assignments.

You had heard some rumors amongst your peers that a couple of your students may be having a crush on you and you heard from others that this wasn't really unusual. Many students had innocent crushes on their teachers and, while you could understand how that might happen, you had to remind yourself to always maintain a professional distance.

Keeping your distance from Cillian, however, soon proved much harder than you anticipated when he started to struggle with some of the course content in another subject for which it was recommended that you tutor him.

By the fourth week, you already tutored three other students for subjects you did not, yourself, teach to them and singling Cillian out from tutoring because of his little crush didn't strike you the right way. Thus, when he asked you for help during the break in your next lecture, you did not hesitate.

*** The Beginning of Tutoring ***

"I've been having some trouble with contracts and torts," Cillian said, running a hand through his hair, looking nervous and uncertain. "And my lecturer in those subjects recommended that I seek additional help."

"Of course," you said, giving him a reassuring smile. "I'd be happy to set up some tutoring sessions for you. I think it's great that you're taking the initiative to seek help in areas where you're struggling," you said, maintaining a professional tone.

Cillian nodded, looking relieved. "Thank you, I really appreciate it. I want to do well in this program, you know," he stammered  , his eyes flickering nervously around the still-bustling lecture hall. "I can't afford to fail any subjects," he added, biting his bottom lip.

His vulnerability struck a chord within you, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of empathy towards him. You understood the pressure that students faced when it came to academic performance, and you admired Cillian's determination to succeed.

"Of course, I completely understand. How about we start on Thursday?"  you suggested, favoring an informal approach. "I'm available from four until six-thirty, so we should have plenty of time to go over any areas you're struggling with without feeling rushed."

Cillian nodded, grimacing slightly. "Yeah, that'll be grand," he replied, managing a weak smile. "I'll see you then, Miss Y/LN," he added, before gathering his belongings and rushing off to his next class.

You couldn't help but watch him leave, taking in the sight of him as he walked confidently through the crowd of students. The way his hair fell onto his forehead and the determined look in his eyes stayed with you even after he had left.

You let out a long sigh, trying to shake off the odd sense of familiarity that washed over you. The idea of tutoring Cillian ignited a spark of excitement in you, mixed with a pinch of anxiety.

You were nervous at the prospect of spending two extra hours alone with him every week, given what you had picked up from the rumor mill about his crush, and, to make matters even worse, no matter how much you tried to deny it or push it away, the truth was that you, yourself, had started recognizing a certain level of fascination towards Cillian. It was a fascination you knew you shouldn't have. Not only were you ten years older than him, but he was also your student. 

Tags:

@sunbeamseas @saint-ackerman @oatmealisweird @naxxsstuff @amanda08319 @r-m-cidnah @elysiannook @cillshot @infireddabdab @tastycakee @harrysbestiee @lilybabe22 @adalynlowell @henrywintersdearestgirl @ietss @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @ryiamarie @axionn

@heidimoreton @nela-cutie @futurecorps3 @delishen @nosebleeds-247 @thirteenis-myluckynumber @gills-lounge @hjmalmed @lost-fantasy @tiredkitten @sidechrisporn @smallsoulunknown @charqing-qing @hopefulinlove @aporiasposts @shycrybaby @me-and-your-husband @hjmalmed @lacontroller1991 @galxydefender @aporiasposts

@galxydefender @hunnibearrr @saint-ackerman @lunyyx @gentlemonsterjennie1 @ihavealotoffandomssorry @nadloves @lost-fantasy @nolucesn@mcavoy-girl @hjmalmed @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @blushykiss @tatumrileyslover @teawithsatanx @orijanko @rhaenyra4ever @xcinnamonmalfoyx @budugu @nadloves @kmc1989 @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @forgottenpeakywriter @smailaway @sophiaaguirred

[specialinterestsgalore]

The M*A*S*H Time Loop

This was pretty much just a stream of consciousness writing. I haven't looked at it much since I wrote it a couple of days ago but I wanted to post it anyway.

The sitcom M*A*S*H ran from 1972 to 1983 and captured households around America. The series follows M*A*S*H (Mobile Army Surgical Hospital) unit 4077 through the Korean War. Knowledgable readers might have noticed that the Korean War lasted 3 years from June 1950 to July 1953 while the M*A*S*H series ran for 11 years from September 1972 to February 1983. This significant timeline difference created an interesting effect on M*A*S*H that led to many fans discussing the ‘M*A*S*H time loop theory.’ As the name would imply, this fan theory posits that the events of M*A*S*H do not take place during the Korean War as we know it, but instead that the show follows the 4077th as they are stuck in an endless time loop and are unable to escape the war. 

Clearly, the timeline of M*A*S*H is a bit difficult to line up with the events of the actual Korean War due to the 8-year difference. Characters such as BJ Hunnicutt and Radar O’Riley were on the sitcom for 8 years but canonically it is difficult to say if they were meant to have spent the same amount of time in Korea. While the episodes were aired weekly, it is impossible to say if most of the episodes were meant to take place a week apart. There are several episodes for which we know this is not the case, for example, the season 9 episode ‘A War for All Seasons’  begins with the 4077th ringing in the new year and follows several key events throughout 1951 and ends on New Year’s Day 1952. This seems to imply that the previous 8 seasons all take place in 1950. It could also imply that subsequent episodes all take place in 1952 or later, though many assume that some episodes show events that were not seen in ‘A War for All Seasons.’ On the opposite end of the spectrum, several episodes take place over a matter of hours. The season 8 episode ‘Life Time’ happens essentially in real time as Hawkeye has only 20 minutes to complete an arterial graft on a wounded soldier. These and other episodes make creating a sensible timeline for the M*A*S*H series an incredibly complicated process. Trapper John leaves in the first episode of season 4, does this mean that he was only in Korea for 6 months? As mentioned earlier, Radar and BJ were on M*A*S*H for the same number of years, but Radar leaves before ‘A War for All Seasons,’ does this mean that Radar was enlisted for a year or less while BJ was present for 2 years? Does it matter how long any of these characters were engaged in the Korean War? The time loop theory certainly says no. 

The nature of all sitcom television lends itself very well to the concept of a time loop. The show almost always resets itself at the end of every episode and it begins the next episode in essentially the same place. The order of the episodes often doesn’t matter. Everything is always happening, nothing happens, it doesn’t matter. In M*A*S*H specifically, one of the core themes of the show is the cyclical nature of war. It intentionally pokes fun at the repetition, the monotony with lines like ‘the future’s been canceled by the war department’ and ‘Father, what do you think of purgatory so far?’ as well as with aspects such as the omnipresent PA voice. Hawkeye Pierce becomes the main focus of the show and the audience's lens in many ways and as such is one of the easiest introductions to this concept. Hawkeye complains about being stuck nearly every episode and often phrases it as though he is not just stuck as a surgeon in a war zone, but as if his whole life is stuck, as if his past and future are all contained within the war. Another character giving credence to this theory is Radar O’Riley. Radar earned his nickname due to his uncanny ability to sense incoming wounded before anyone else and to predict what his commanding officers will ask for before they open their mouths. While this is certainly a fun gag for the show, many think it shows that Radar is aware, consciously or unconsciously, of the time loop. Radar is aware of when the choppers will arrive and when Henry needs files because it has all happened before and will happen again. Many fans also point out that this could be the reason for Radar’s reaction to Henry being sent home. It is more than just realizing that he will be left in Korea while the man he has come to see as a father figure goes home to his family. On some level, Radar remembers that Henry will not make it home; he knows he can not stop it. Of course one of the biggest pieces of evidence against the idea of a time loop is the fact that it does end. Everyone goes home in the end, however, this does not entirely disprove the theory. Many pieces of media that focus on the concept of time loops end with our protagonists escaping. But they can not escape entirely. Though all of our characters leave Korea by the end of the series, those who are still alive have not left completely. They will be stuck remembering this time forever. 

While the original intention of M*A*S*H certainly was not to tell a story about a group of army doctors, nurses, and enlisted men trapped in a time loop, that is in many ways the story we got. It is the best showcase of the cycle, the monotonous horror of war in modern media. The only changes come with tragedy, death, or abandonment. It is a time loop in the only ways that matter.

[marvelwitchergilmore]

Kiss In Stitches

Summary; Javier Peña x Fe!Reader/OC (Agent Jackson) -> Turns out, Javi is scared of hospitals so you distract him in the only way you can think of at the time, but it comes back to haunt you.

Disclaimer: Doesn't really follow Narcos, techincally. Fluff, angst, not proof read. Mentions of death in hospitals etc.

You had met Agent Peña during a field opp. It had been you - working for Interpol - and Murphy until Peña finally arrived back to the DEA and you all made your way into the apartment block. 

With the drug trade growing, Interpol got more and more concerned. That was when they sent you. You were one of the best agents to graduate from your academy year. No-one had marksman ship like you. They also didn’t know as many languages as you, either. 

Both of your parents were diplomats. Your mother had the higher authority so you spent more time at home with your dad - who had taught you to speak Italian, Spanish, Russian and French. 

It had been a rocky start; Peña not being told you existed was the main thing. 

“Who’s she?”

“She has a name.” You voiced before Murphy could introduce you both. 

“Javi, meet Agent Jackson. Interpol.”

“Interpol?” Peña questioned before looking to you. “I wasn’t aware-”

“Clearly. Shall we?”

By the time you both got back to the Embassy, you and Peña had gotten onto better terms. Mostly because he’d saved your life. As one sacario shot at you and you shot back, one appeared behind you. If Peña hadn’t gotten there first, you’d probably (definitely) be dead. 

It had been a quick turn around and before you knew it, you found yourself permenatly partnered with Peña and Murphy. You became a good trio. It was also nice to learn that Steve had a wife. Connie. 

You both got on like a house on fire. And, with your sister back in Europe helping at the hospitals, you had 24hr access to medical knowledge - especially when it came to children. 

Your sister had trained, originally, as a general surgeon before she decided to retrain almost 10 years ago to be a midwife and help mothers and their children. Most of your medical knowledge came from your sister because, during the time of her exams, she didn’t have anyone else to help her revise and study. So, you became a sound board. 

It just helped that you listened. 

This was how you knew, during a raid, that Peña needed stitches. Several to be exact. 

“What?” 

He seemed a little panicked as you helped him stand and both looked down to the scar in his leg. 

“Murphy!” You yelled, and two seconds later, the blond came round the corner. 

“Yeah? Oh.”

“Medic’s are still 20 minutes out. I can get him to the hospital in 10. Mind holding down the fort, here?”

Murphy nodded. “Sure.”

“I don’t need a hospital.”

You scoffed and titled your head for a second as if to say Come on, Peña. “We both know that isn’t true.”

Grabbing him by the upper arm, you secured your gun away before dragging Peña out of the building, down the stairs and towards your car. 

“Honestly, I’m fine. I can wait for the medics-”

“Shut up.”

By the time you arrived to the hospital and basically had to drag Peña all the way inside to the point where he wouldn’t even sit down on the bed once they found him a room, so you had to place both your hands on his shoulders, walk him backwards til his legs hit the bed and sit him down. 

“They’ll fix you up in no time.”

“I didn’t-”

“If you say you didn’t need to come, I will personally shoot you myself.” You warned. 

It was over the next 10 minutes that you saw Peña’s emotions. 

You had sat down on one of the chairs and for at least 8 of those minutes, Peña had been picking his finger nails, bouncing his leg, flattening his ‘tash over and over, running a hand at the back of his neck and through his hair. 

“Penn-ya?” You sounded out, getting his attention.

This was a man who was on the hunt for Escobar. A man who you had been shoot down plenty of sacarios, risk his life every single day doing a job that he loves and yet…

He’s scared of, what? A hospital?

“Are you-”

But you didn’t get to ask, “Are you nervous?” because a moment later, the door opened up and in walked the doctor ready to complete his stitches. 

You watched as Peña tried to remain calm throughout it all. Every now and again, he’d swear under his breath. Even though they’d given him some pain-killers, he wanted back on the job. 

More so, he wanted out of the hospital. 

But as it was getting down to the final few sitiches, the pain seemed to be getting worse. 

And so was Peña. 

His nerves were sky rocketing because he didn’t want to look at his wound being sown up right before his eyes, but he also didn’t want to see around the hospital. 

So standing by his side, you got him to focus on you rather than the pain and the white-washed, bleach smelling walls. 

And that was when you did what even you least expected. 

You kissed him. 

It was…a surprise to say the least. The doctor paid no attention, finishing up Peña’s stitches whilst his body was completely still. The kiss, although lasted, still felt (oddly) too short. 

hankfully, by the time you pulled away, the doctor had finished and was writing Peña a perscription for some pain killers. 

“These should disolve, but if there are any signs of infection, come straight back.”

Peña, after a moment (having to tear his eyes from yours), nodded and stood up. 

“It will be sore for a few days, so I say rest. I understand your job isn’t exactly the most ideal, but try where you can.”

“Thanks, Doc.”

Peña signed himself out and it was awkward silence all the way to the car. But he broke it. 

“Thanks, by the way. For the…kiss. I was nervous, that was why you did it, right?” God, he’d never been this awkward around a woman. It was like he was going bright red from just the word kiss. What was he? A teenager? 

“It was the only way I could think about taking your mind off it.” You answered as you walked around to the driver’s seat. “Why…why do you not like hospitals? You attend med school and, what? Faint in the reception?”

In all honesty, you did want to know. But now it was also to deflect from the kiss.

Peña gave a small laugh as he lifted himself into the car and shut the door. “I don’t know…I’ve just never…They’re never a good place. They help people, but anyone I’ve met who’s gone in…9 times out of 10, they didn’t come back out.”

“So? What? You’ve never been in one since?”

Peña smirked. “Welll, if i got kissed every time I went, I’d be sure to turn up more often.”

Your smile back turned into a laugh that both of you shared. So, good, you both thought it was something to laugh about.

But…one question remained. 

Why didn’t it feel like that? And why did you (both) want to to happen again?

Okay, maybe two questions. 

The weeks that followed, everything seemed to go back to normal. Or, at least, what you both thought was normal. 

But, no. 

Murphy knew different. Everyone did. 

When asked by Connie, Steve couldn’t exactly pin-point it. It was just…something. Like, the way you’d look at Peña when he wasn’t looking, or the way he’d look at you when you weren’t. Or it was in the way, when left alone in a room together, Murphy could walk back in and he could cut through the tention. 

But it wasn’t hatred. 

Neither of you yelled at the other. Neither of you looked like you were ready to shoot the other given the chance. 

It was just, plain awkwardness. 

“Maybe the like each other?” Connie suggested. “I mean, if I didn’t know them, part of me would think maybe.”

“But…it’s Peña and Jackson. They work well together, but…romantically. I- I just can’t see it, Connie.”

“Well, have you thought about asking one of them. Maybe they might tell you. Ask Peña. If anyone is going to cough it up, it’ll be him.”

Connie was right. 

Peña was a good cop and, every now and then, he could get away with a lie. But you were something else entirally. 

In all honesty, no-one really knew much about you other than the information you had given up - even then it wasn’t out right. They’d have to pay close attention. 

Or read what they could of your file. 

They knew nothing of your childhood other than you moved around a lot, you had one sister (but you could have more siblings for all they knew), you trained in the academy when you were 20 having early admission since you graduated University early. But that was about it. 

They knew nothing other than what could be infered from a file. 

And they’d asked a couple of questions over the last few months - like your coffee order. But you wouldn’t even tell them that. You’d just stand and go and get the coffee’s yourself and since it was in a to-go cup - like the rest of their’s - they didn’t know what you drank. Creame? Sugar?...salt? Who knows. 

You also would disappear at least twice a week at lunch. At one point, they had decided to follow you but they’d lost you after twenty seconds. You were quick and light on your feet. 

This was why you were the best in your class. 

They had offered you the opportunity to work for the Secret Service at one point but you had turned the job down. Plus, with Interpol, you got to travel. 

Even if they weren’t the happiest of ‘holiday’s’. 

But all of this changed when Murphy out right asked Peña one day, what was going on between him and yourself. 

Of course, he denied everything. Nothing was wrong. Everything was normal. 

So, Steve brought in Connie. 

Within ten minutes, Connie had it out of Peña about what happened. 

“So, she kissed you…then what?”

“We left the hospital and…that was it.”

“And you haven’t talk about it.” Connie could already tell. 

“I guess. We joked about it but then we went back to work.”

“And how has it been since?”

Connie leaned back in his husband’s desk chair. 

“Normal.”

“You keep saying that Javi, but you keep watching the door waiting for her to come around the corner. Have you thought about telling her how you feel?”

Javi laughed. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, have you told her that you like her.”

“I don’t like her.” Javi denied. 

It was now Connie’s turn to laugh. “Javi, please. I know a love-sick man when I see him.”

“I like her just fine, it’s just…”

“What?Javi, you can say you’re scared. Look,” Connie stood up and flattened the collar of his shirt. “Just talk to her. You might find she feels the same way. Why else would she have kissed you? She could have slapped you instead, but she didn’t. Just think about it.”

After that, he did. 

And it wouldn’t leave his head. 

He’d be lying if he said he didn’t want to do it again. Because he did. So much. But you were- are a co-worker. There had to be rules around a cop dating a cop. Especially in the DEA. 

Nevertheless, it still played on his mind. Day in, day out. If he even looked in your general direction, he was always fearful if you could hear what he was thinking. 

Yet, it wasn’t until two weeks later, in the file room, did he try and talk about it. 

You had gone in there and shut the door behind you. No-one really came in the room hours after lunch so you had the small cupboard all to yourself, until Javi entered. 

“Hey,” he looked flustered. 

Nervous. 

“Can we talk?”

“About what?” you asked, looking back to the file. But that was short lived as he walked over and placed a hand to push to file down from your face. He needed you to look at him. 

“We need to talk about it. The kiss. Why did you kiss me?”

“Jav- Peña. Look, I’m sorry it happened okay-”

“I’m not.”

“But you were shaking like a leaf and- what?”

“I’m not.” Peña repeated. “I’m not sorry it happened. I-I don’t know what else to say. I’m just…I’m not sorry it happened and I’d by lying if I said I didn’t enjoy it and-”

“Javi, please. We…we can’t do this.” It felt like the walls were closing in on you. You could smell his colounge and it was intoxicating. 

“Please, hermosa.” The nickname rolled off his tough effortlessly. Like the name had always belonged to you. “Why did you…do you want it to happen again?”

His voice is soft and you can hear youself screaming, yes! but…something stops you. 

Nerves. 

“I…I can’t.”

With that, you left. All you wanted to do was run out of the building but the moment you left, Murphy slammed down his phone. 

“Where’s Peña?” 

Then he appeared by your side. “Grab your vests.”

A building of sacarios. Three of which were Escobar’s right-hand men. His most trusted. 

Get one…get them all. 

The sky above was growing darker by the hour and, although the temperature had dropped, it was still warm outside. 

And Peña had been watching your every move. 

He knew you…to an extent. He knew you well enough to know that you would say “no,” if you didn’t want it to happen. He knew, or maybe he hoped, there was still a part of you, no matter how small, wanted exactly what he wanted. 

For it to happen again. 

“Jackson!”

He approached the back of your car as you strapped on your vest. You tried to run, but you didn’t get very far. 

“Please, can we just talk-”

“No, Javi. I…I can’t do this right now.”

Peña stopped in his tracks, watching you walk down the hill. In truth, you were maybe 6ft in front of him. 

“Why did you kiss me?”

You slowed to a stop. 

“You could have slapped me, punched me, shot me in the leg for all I cared. But you kissed me. Why?”

He slowly walked closer to you and before you knew it, you had turned to face him. 

“Why, hermosa? Why?”

“I don’t know, okay! I don’t know. It was the only thing I could think of at the time.”

“And about what I asked you before?”

“I can’t…Javi. I…”

“Who says?”

It took you a moment. “I do. I…I can’t do this with you, Javi.”

“Why?”

He probably sounded desperate, and he was. He needed to know why before he walked away. 

“I just…”

When you didn’t say anything else, Javi held your head in his hand, cupping your cheeks before pulling you closer. The grip was lose enough for you to push him away if you wanted to but when you began to kiss back and pulled yourself closer, his grip became more secure. 

When he went to break the kiss, a small noise escaped your lips to which he chuckled and kissed you again. 

It was…intoxicating. Addictive. 

“Tell me you feel the same.”

“And that didn’t prove it?” You breathed. 

Javi chuckled, holding your head against his. His hand lay at the back of your neck, holding you in place. “I need words, hermosa.”

You smiled. “I feel the same.”

[dreaaspeaks]

Georg angst! Anything I just love angst 😭

time away

georg listing x reader

Summary: georg is away on tour for the first time and you can’t help but feel uneasy

(A/N sorry this took so long! I hope this being a pretty long one makes up for it!)

You were happy at first, happy for him, happy for the band but, as time went on with days turning into weeks and weeks turning into months, the Europe tour started to seem more like a curse than a blessing. Sure, you were excited for Georg, after all, all those years of practice and dedication to the band had finally payed off but when his texts got less frequent and rumours of rendezvous followed the band every city they went, your mind couldn’t help but go into overdrive.

As invasive thoughts of gossip magazine headlines flooded your brain every day with every passing interview they did, you couldn’t help but ask Georg about at least one rumour. After all it was just to ease your thoughts, it wasn’t that you didn’t trust him, it was just the result of time spent apart and stupid jokes Tom would make during interviews about bringing girls to the hotel for the other guys.

The noise from an interview Tokio Hotel was doing on TV was helping to drown out your thoughts and seeing Georg, even if it was just through a screen did calm you, but it wasn’t enough. The 20 over unread texts from last week that he hadn’t even opened was just staring at you every time you stared at your phone, almost as if it was taunting you.

Your finger was hovering over the keypad as you contemplated on actually questioning his faithfulness. Would he be offended that you didn’t trust him? Would you regret asking him and find out something you definitely were not emotionally prepared to handle? Every thought, no matter rational of not ran through your head at light speed, until one question the interviewer had asked, sparked your interest, making your mind go blank for the first time in days.

“so do any of you happen to have girlfriends?”

That should be easy to answer, the band hadn’t gotten a question like that before considering it was their first major tour and nation wide interest for them only sparked this year.

Tom gave a short but snarky response with Bill bashfully shaking his head…as it came to Georg’s turn to answer, the immediate ‘yes’ was nowhere to be found, instead it was slight hesitation, and an awkward smile before he said, “no, not at the moment”

No? No? Than what the fuck were you?

Even the look of the other members face had slight surprise in them, Bill’s eyes had gone a little wider while Gustav’s eyebrows scrunched slightly, not enough to alarm the audience or an interviewer but for you, you knew that Georg’s answer of ‘no’ was not even expected from the other members.

Before, you were hesitant, almost ashamed that you would question your boyfriend’s integrity like that, that you would think so lowly of him, but now…now it was like your thumbs had a mind of their own.

Text after text, question after question, it was like a wave of anger and disbelief had washed through you and poured out into the possibly 30 over text messages you sent in under two minutes. As the anger bubbled over, you couldn’t really find anymore words to express the disappointment and confusion that you felt aside from throwing your phone on the floor and taking in a deep breath.

The deep breath was meant to calm you, help you get back on track, maybe even clear your thoughts but instead, when you exhaled, the breath was shaky, your throat felt like it was burning and closing up all at once as your vision went blurry, tears welling up in your eyes as you curled into the corner of the couch, burying your head between your knees

How could he? Georg…

Your Georg, your funny, sweet, truthful to a fault, cheesy boyfriend who asked you out by telling you a pun. Him? He did such a thing?He told millions that he was single, possibly knowing you would watch this interview, that was a level of arrogance and disrespect that you never thought he could ever even fathom, let alone do.

As hours passed and your makeup stained tears cleaned off by your sympathetic mother, you heard your phone ring, getting a call from Georg for the first time in weeks.

A part of you wanted to rush out of bed and pick up immediately, just to hear his voice, his excuses, maybe even his assurances but you just couldn’t bring yourself to hear him out. There was something so cruel about ignoring your presence in his life on national television, his words and comfort that he mumbled into your ear before he left now seeming empty and hollow.

The calls never stopped for two hours, two full hours of Herculean control needed to ignore every ring that pierced your ears, letting out a sigh of relief when it finally stopped.

You just wanted to sleep and forget, forget any of this happened, forget about him. His words replayed in your mind like a broken record that plagued your brain, how could you be so stupid? let him in and actually believed that he would stay completely faithful during tour…so so naive.

As you fell into a dreamless sleep you were woken up in the afternoon by a knock on your door.

“Go away mom I don’t feel like getting out of bed yet!” Wanting only to be left alone with your thoughts.

“There’s someone here for you and before you say anything just go downstairs!” You knew better than to talk back when your mom got stern, grumbling as you opened your door weakly and ran your fingers through your hair as you walked down the stairs expecting a relative or one of your friends to be there to cheer you up, only to come face to face with him.

“I-I thought that you were in-” Before you could say anything else, Georg pulled you into a tight hug, burying his face in your hair. You desperately tried to pull away, wanting nothing more than to yell and scold him, instead, you melted into the hug, realising that all those months of waiting and separation was finally over, he was here, with you, in your house and hugging you like his life depended on it.

It felt like muscle memory, all of him felt like muscle memory. The generic shampoo smell of his long hair that matched the scent of his skin from the 2 in 1 wash you hated him for using, the small moles on his neck that you tried one time to force into a constellation, his callused thumb rubbing the back of you neck as he hugged you, the soft kisses he liked to plant on your head and temple after fights, it was all so familiar yet with everything you remembered, it no longer made you feel sweeter, instead a bitter aftertaste was all that lingered.

“How could you? I don’t care that you flew back if all you’re going to give me is a hug and a few kisses.” You mumbled, your voice shaky as you met his eyes, urgh those bright green eyes that were usually filled with love and warmth now showing only regret and desperation.

“I’m so so sorry I fucked up and fucked up bad…I don’t expect you to forgive me right away okay? I really don’t, i-it was so stupid, I only said it because management told me t-to a-and i-i had no choice i’m sorry.” Georg huffed, he rarely cried, fuck he never cried, even if he was upset of hurt he just gave silent treatment or would give hints but never had you ever seen tears well in his eyes, even if it was just making his eyes glassy and not spilling out, this was huge.

Sincere.

You gulped and rested your head in his chest, “It’s more than that Georg, you hadn’t answered your phone in days! I could only hear your voice through interviews and the radio…”

Just remembering that feeling of separation was enough for your heart to ache again. “When you said that on live television…like, fuck that felt so humiliating!” Your voice raising slightly, slapping his arm, not too harshly but enough for it to sting, calming down slightly at the feeling of his finger running through your hair, getting the knots out gently.

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to miss them, it’s just that management has us playing so many shows and going on so many stations every day, I barely got five hours of sleep last night, if we aren’t in public we’re practicing and making new music and the record label is such a fucking dick the deadline is in eight months and I don’t know how we can-” Before Georg could continue his heated rambling, you caressed his arm gently and pecked his cheek. He was overwhelmed, far too drained and tired from everything the band had been going through and in usual Georg fashion, he had kept it to himself.

You’re hand rubbed his shoulder gently, looking up at him with sympathetic eyes, “How overworked have you been?” Noticing the under eye bags that had formed on his otherwise youthful looking skin.

“You should see Bill, he’s too tired for anything anymore.” Georg mumbled, a slight smile on his face as he noticed your softened demeanour.

You sighed, seeing his disheveled hair, wrinkled shirt and dark eye bags. What was he being put through? What was the band being put through?

All that anger that had pent up in you, had disappeared with his explanation, now feeling nothing but sympathy and worry as the more you noticed, the more your anger started to be directed at the people who were overworking the four boys. His fingers were bandaged from playing so often, he had broken out on her forehead and his usual bright smile after getting your forgiveness was tainted with drowsiness.

“How long are you back for?” You asked softly, running your fingers through his disheveled hair, usually he would’ve straightened it but instead, his curls rested on his shoulders as his chin rested on your head.

You heard him sigh and kiss your head, “Until tomorrow morning, why?”

“Let’s take a nap okay? I can tell you haven’t been sleeping well” You mumbled into his chest before pulling him upstairs to your room, hearing him throw himself into your comfy bed when you turned to close the door. When you turned back, you couldn’t help but smile fondly at the sight of Georg laying down , snuggling up to your floral duvet, opening his arms and gesturing for you to lay on his chest.

How could you say no?

As you laid on his chest, feeling his strong arms wrap around your body, his fingers softly caressing your hips and back as you played with his hair, you heard Georg speak up, “About the management wanting me to say I’m single thing…I’ll talk to them about it okay? I promise I will”

You sighed and cupped his cheek, kissing his nose softly, “Thank you but let’s just not think about it right now okay? I haven’t seen you in months, I just want to spend some time with you like before.”

Georg chuckled softly and patted your hips, placing soft kisses on your neck and mumbled against your skin, “We’re 18 and we have a before already…yeah, yeah you’re right, let’s just forget about it right now.”

You could almost see the wheels in his brain turning making you playfully roll your eyes and kiss his forehead, “Stop it, I mean it. I want you to sleep, rest, take a break okay? I’m not going anywhere.”

“I’m not going anywhere either”

[satansaidnottoday]

Armistice at the library.

Info: Human AU, Satan's Mc, GN!Mc.

Summary: You have been annoying Satan long enough to get a date.

A/N: We do a little jump in the timeline here, we will keep jumping back and forth depending on what story I want to tell.

Monday was Satan's least favorite day. He had to sift through all of the books left in the return box during the weekend and make sure they didn't get damaged. They then had to be returned to their place on the shelf. Still, the smell of books and the soft silence made up for it. From up high on the ladder, he could see the morning sun slowly rising over the shelves and tables. It was such a beautiful view; it calmed him down.

Suddenly he got dragged, his ladder moving a full meter to the right out of his control. He held on to the railing for dear life. A less than dignified screech left his throat.

"Good morning, loser," you said, letting go of the ladder. 

"Mc, for fucks sake." He cursed you, coming down as fast as his trembling feet let him.

You laughed and sat down on your table, putting your books down and your feet up. Out of all of the regulars, you were the only one who would show up at 7 a.m. every single Monday. He wasn't a fan. 

"I could have fallen!" He pushed your feet off the table and looked down at you, breathing heavily. You loved how worked up he got. 

"I would have caught you," you said, grabbing his hand on yours. "I will always catch you," you said, looking up at him with your best dreamy eyes and soft, loving smile.

His whole face turns a lovely shade of red. His hand rips apart from yours, and he turns around, leaving for the counter with a huff. You watch him leave, waiting until he is sitting at his computer to start your own work. 

Ever since you returned to town, you have been going to the library every day to work. Partly because it was much nicer than the teacher's lounge, and it was right in front of the school. Party because you loved annoying the sexy librarian. You actually knew him from high school before you moved out. He was a hothead, you remembered. It was kind of funny to see him put up such a serious facade. 

The next few hours are spent grading papers and writing assignments. Every so often, Satan lifted his eyes from the desk and stole a look at you. Every single time, you winked at him. The last time he sighed so deeply, you could almost see the air leaving his lungs. You took the opportunity to walk up to him.

"Hey, handsome, mind scanning a book for me?" You ask, leaning down on the counter. You put down your copy of Lord of the Flies in front of you. "I need 20 copies of the first 2 chapters.

"You don't have scanners and printers at school?" He asks, turning the page in his own book.

"No, we're poor," you lied.

"Then I wonder why you're the only teacher who comes here to work." He lifted his eyes just to glare at you.

"Truly a mystery." You pushed the book closer to him. He took it and inspected it.

"You're having twelve-year-olds read Lord of the Flies?" He asks, looking at you weird.

"Why not? They can relate to the protagonists."

In reality, your first class of the day started at noon, and you had prepared no reading material at all. You had picked up the first book you saw in your bag.

"Let me check; I might already have a digital copy." He started typing on his computer.

"So reliable; I love that in a man."

"Well, at least this way, your students don't need to read your 'notes'," he said, making air quotes with his fingers. Behind him, the printer started working.

"What's wrong with my notes?" Your voice came out an octave higher than you expected.

"Let's see," he said, opening the book up. "We have 'Oh no oh no oh no'," he pauses to look at you for a second. "Just a bunch of 'damn', 'damn', 'damn', 'these kids are fucked up' and then 'poor piggy' sad face." 

You felt the heat rising in your own face as you took the book from his hands. "In my defense, those kids were fucked up."

He laughed at you. It made you wish the printer would work faster. You didn't like being on this side of the power dynamic.

"I should charge your school for all these copies," he said, stapling the copies together as they came out of the printer.

You snorted. "Good luck with that. They're already paying me with hopes and dreams."

He smiled, a non-malicious smile for the first time. "On that, we can relate at last."

"The woes of government employment." 

You stacked the copies as he handed them to you, and when they were all ready, you pushed them into your briefcase.

"Thank you, good sir." You offered him your hand for a shake, and he reluctantly took it. You pulled a fast one and bowed down to kiss it. Heat returned to his face, and the universe regained its balance. 

"You've got to stop teasing me," he sneakered, taking away his hand.

"Okay," you nodded. "Let's go on a date." 

He put a hand on his forehead, as if you were giving him a headache. "I said stop."

"Stop teasing. That's what I'm doing; I'm being direct," you explained, leaning closer to him. "Let's get coffee."

He looked at you for a few seconds, scanning your face for any hints of foolery. For once, you were being completely serious. He sighed.

"I'm free on Saturday," he said, looking at his drawers for something. After some shuffling, he took out a small magnet shaped like the head of a cat and handed it to you. "That's my favorite place."

"Café gatitos and cream," you read off the magnet. It took all of your strength not to laugh at how childish it looked. Instead, you nodded. "See you there at nine?"

He nodded back, avoiding your eyes. Without another word, he went back to work. You resolved to do the same.

Walking back to the school, you fidgeted with the magnet in your hand. You really couldn't wait. 

Thank you for reading ❤️

[angie-starz]

The chonozawa timline in my Au is a decade long affair:

In Canon Aizawa is 31(30 at the beginner of the series) and Chrono doesn't have a Canonical age so I put him as the same age a Chisaki, 28 (27 during the SH raid); so that gives them a 3 year age gap.

The Neolithic age

First meeting: Hari 18 & Shouta 21

Aizawa is just beginning his hero career, still very scarred by the death of his friend and his relationship with Mic on the rocks(⚠️apologies in advance, this will be the death of erasermic⚠️) they decide to take a break and not see eachother for a while. He gets offered to go on a mission in Esuha yakuza territory, he agrees, he goes, he settles in a hotel, they get started on the case. (I will not talk too much on the case no spoilers for the fic). Essentially, Aizawa is approached by Kurono who offers to help him with the case since he doesn't know jackshit about the yakuza, Aizawa asks why he'd help and Kurono tells him he's just a local keeping a look out for his people since no outsiders will. They obviously dislike eachother at first, both of them tolerating the other to achieve their goals with Aizawa planning to arrest him after all this is over. Aizawa eventually pieces together Kurono is yakuza after a series of misadventures and investigation, they started as reluctant allies and ended as unlikely friends going their separate ways.

Interlude I...

Aizawa goes back to Tokyo, to mic after the mission and they try again but Aizawa keeps thinking about the time he spent in Esuha and just can't shake off the feeling of wanting to go back. Months pass and eventually mic breaks it off with him himself because he realises things really won't work. Meanwhile back in Esuha, Kurono Is getting reprimanded by the old boss for his reckless actions through the investigation but he insists he only did it to protect the SH. He talks to kai about it to which he ensures hari he did the right thing by preventing the police from coming snooping in their territory(Yes. Tragic one-sided chronohaul)

Meeting again: Hari 19 & Shouta 22

It's been a year, and Aizawa is still pondering why he doesn't feel a thing for the breakup but longs to go back to esuha. He's watching the news one day and finds that investigations are being held for the figure who was held responsible for threatening the authorities in The first meeting this gives him the push/excuse to finally go back to esuha to check on Kurono. When gets there he finds kurono, he's staying in an abandoned building across the city and he's freaking out because he's practically endangered the SH and now he's realising that the boss was right. Aizawa snaps him out of it and tells him that he's here to help, kurono doesn't believe him and ask why he would even try to and Aizawa replies that he's just an outsider looking out for the locals. The rest of it is spent with them on kind of on the run, aizawa offers his car amd pays a motel for Kurono until his name is cleared even if he did actually have ALOT to do with the accusations. They spend alot of time bonding and opening up, surprisingly by the times all the ruckus has died down another year has passed, Hari is 20 and Shouta is 23

The middle ages

Frequent interactions: Hari is 21-24 and Shouta is 24-27 during this period

After everything that happened, they're seeing eachother alot more often, exchanged numbers And Aizawa has an apartment in Esuha that Kurono break in to stays at whenever he's not busy with SH work. Through the years they're essentially dancing around eachother, they could be dating but they never put a label on what they are. Aizawa is willing to make them official but Kurono hold off from it because he feels guilty because he feels he's betraying Chisaki. It's almost like he's cheating but can it really count as infidelity if him and kai are not even really together? He leaves the apartment early every morning before Aizawa can wake up but he always comes back even when Aizawa is all the way in Tokyo. This is also around the time Aizawa takes in Shinsou, so just throw that in there.

The ice age

Ghosting: Hari is 25-27 and Shouta is 28-30

Eri gets dumped on the doorstep of the DH at the age of 3 in December right before she tirns 4 and everything in the compound falls into chaos. Kurono gets sidetracked with everything going on, helping chisaki in the lab to figure out what her quirk is, reassuring him that she isn't a replacement for him in the old man's eye. He's doesn't visit Aizawa as often, practically at all but they are still texting. Until he changes his number and goes radio silence for 2-3 years. Aizawa on his end is confused because he got no explanation and not even a goodbye. He goes around Esuha, to places they'd frequent together but there's no trace of him at all. He doesn't believe Kurono would skip town, he's too loyal to his organisation to do so. Kurono now has fully embraced chronostasis alongside overhaul continuing the experiments for the quirk eraser drug. They go on about their lives but still ruminate about eachother deeply. That is until the raid. When Aizawa finds out that its based on the SH, he tries to reach out to Kurono again but still nothing. The first time they meet again is when he's captured by chronostasis underground.

The extinction or revival age

Where we left off: Hari is 27-28 and Shouta is 30-31

They have a one-sided conversation with Aizawa not being able to move. Kurono is pissed that he's here, he shouldn't be here, they were never meant to see each other again. Kurono grapples with his loyalty to the SH and what he wants but will never admit. He Considers killing Aizawa to put an end to this entire affair but as he raises his dagger and prepares to plunge it into his back, he stops and just can't. With the dagger in hovering above, he sighs and tells Aizawa that he'll let him go but to never expect to see him again as he prepares to take the last of the drug and research and run. But then Suneater bursts through the door, stabs Chronostasis's hand with the swordfish and he has reinforcements with him. The rest of the raid goes on as is. Kurono is taken to a Villains hospital for his hand and Aizawa after a while goes to see him.

From here, anything goes. That's why call it death or revival because it can go either way depending on how I'm feeling. They could work thing out for the better or they could stay just accept that the stage of questioning is permanent.

-

I'm always anxious to post any long writing/character pair analysis because I just feel that I'm not smart enough to analyse them and or they just make sense in my head that when I try to form words or explain them it doesn't make sense so it really tried to get the idea of them here!

[jmdbjk]

Episode 4: Disconnected

Beyond the Star, produced by HYBE Media Studio

Namjoon gives a brief recap of their rise from debut, through the struggles of the next few releases and then they take off with Wings, Fire, Blood Sweat & Tears, Fake Love, and Idol and all their accolades and awards.

They open this episode with behind scenes from filming the ON MV at Los Angeles' Sepulveda Dam. It was hot that day.

[did you say something Jimin? ahem... anyway]

Regarding the previous years to this point in time, Namjoon says he may not have made the best choices all the time but he believes he made the best choices he could at the time. Yoongi says they compacted 20 years into 7 years at the expense of their physical well-being.

Namjoon says he tried to prove himself to the world but now sees that what he's left with are the choices he wanted to make at the time with all his effort and he learned a lot from them.

Jungkook says he lived a life fit for himself, that if he had forced himself to do something that didn't suit him, it would not have been good. He did what he wanted to do and experienced a lot. All decisions he made for himself and which helped him grow.

In other words, they chose to work hard and run full speed ahead and we know that led to an almost burnout situation.

Namjoon states the lyrics of the song ON are what they mean: they've been through it and are on the other side, they made it to the other side together. Bring the pain, bring it on, it will only make us stronger.

It is heartbreaking to hear them talk about how much work they put into the MOTS tour, how involved they were with equipment and production decisions. Yoongi said it had been a while since they'd been this excited about preparing for concerts.

Things were planned that we never knew about. A large-scale gala for TV promotions?

And then the news early 2020. Jimin was asking if there was any chance the concert would ever go ahead as planned...

During the two years or so of the pandemic, each member dealt with the social distancing, self-quarantining, loneliness and lack of live performances in their own ways. They did a lot of nothing during this time. The footage shown here was not of them during the first months of the pandemic. There were no cameras set up during that time. They used footage from times when they COULD film safely to help represent how they were during isolation. Looks like Hobi and Jungkook in the hotel suite after the Grammy Awards and footage of Jimin in his apartment in late 2021, etc.

There were long periods of time when everyone, including you and me were asked or required to abstain from going outside, to isolate away from others, to not socialize with more than 5 or 10 people at a time, even with our families.

Bang PD reflects that BTS were at the peak of their careers, they lived to perform, and had to overcome the feelings of helplessness and that's how he believes they've grown as humans.

So they innovated...they produced the first online ticketed concert: Bang Bang Con. Over 750,000 viewers watched.

It was reported on the news that BTS was once again changing the industry.

And then on August 21, 2020, they released a song to enjoy with the fans:

If The Most Beautiful Moment in Life was the turning point, Dynamite was literally the explosion that shot them into the stratosphere.

Dynamite broke records of every kind: on Youtube the MV set a new record of over 3 million peak viewers during its premiere, almost doubling the previous record, and set a new all-time record for the biggest music video premiere on the platform and the most viewed YouTube video in the first 24 hours, earning 101.1 million views and setting three new Guinness World Records.

In the U.S., Dynamite debuted a #1 on the BBHot100, and is BTS' first #1 single in the US. The song became both the longest-running number one on the Digital Songs chart by a Korean artist and the longest-charting song by a Korean artist on the Hot 100, when it spent its 18th non-consecutive week at #1 the Digital Song sales chart and 32 weeks on the Hot 100, three of those weeks at #1.

Hobi said it was overwhelming that their sincerity had reached all parts of the world. Jin said it was a song to simply enjoy with fans.

Bang PD said he knew what this would mean for their future and what a positive impact it was.

Yoongi said they did the song in the hopes of giving everyone strength during the trying times of the pandemic. Namjoon says because of the situation (the pandemic) they lost so much (cancellation of the MOTS tour) so during that time, the strength of music and performances were their way to give comfort and support to the fans.

With the ongoing pandemic, they had to adapt. In October 2020, they produced Map of the Soul ON:E ... two online concerts that had a record-breaking 993,000 paid viewers from a total of 191 regions across the globe. It was performed at the Olympics Gymnastics Arena. It was elaborately produced. It was expensive. Lots of man-hours went into it.

They said they enjoyed doing it, they worked hard but it was a challenge because the missing element was a live audience... Army was missing. It would never replace a live concert's energy but they were still thankful they could even do it to begin with. It would be another year before BTS was in front of a live audience again.

Overnight on Nov. 24, 2020 they gathered in front of the television in their dorm to watch the 63rd Grammy Awards nomination announcements. Only four of them were there: Jimin, Namjoon, Jungkook and Tae. I had heard the others had schedules the next day and needed to sleep.

They had never known how the Grammy nominations were announced, this was their first experience and when BTS was announced you could feel their astonishment through the screen. The first Korean artist to ever be nominated.

During the Grammy Award broadcast (done remotely), they also performed their own song, Dynamite.

Alas, they did not win but they'd made so much history and broke so many records in 2020, the year of deep lows and the highest highs.

They felt motivated, knowing they still had room for success and had something to strive for.

They were proud to show the world that there are singers like them from Korea and that Army and BTS exist.

[xxshewritesinblacknwhitexx]

Imagine Meeting Peggy

Imagine Steve taking you to finally meet Peggy for the first time.

Steve Rogers x Fury!Reader

WARNINGS: slight smut, angst, insecure reader

SET DURING: After Age of Ultron and Before Civil War

BETA’D: @titty-teetee

Your toes curled, as your body tensed, exploding with intense pleasure coursing through your veins. Your vision turned white, forcing you to see stars.

Steve finally released his climax, shuddering against you, before he finally rolled off to the side and collapsed next to you. The two of you laid there trying to catch your breath.

Sweat clung to you like second skin, soaking through the cotton t-shirt you were currently wearing. You squeezed your legs together, trying to alleviate the aftershocks of your orgasm, the sensations still running through your system.

“You alright?” Steve breathed, looking over at you.

“I’m getting there.” You giggled softly with your eyes closed, as you began to feel your body grow heavy with exhaustion. “Talk about a homecoming.”

You heard Steve chuckle deeply, before feeling him grab your hand. You opened your eyes just in time to see him place a soft kiss to the back of it, and then lay it against his bare chest, that was coated with a light sheen of sweat.

You and Steve had been living together for almost two years now in that brownstone in Brooklyn, and your relationship was as normal as it could be for a former SHIELD agent turned Avenger and your super soldier enhanced boyfriend.

Since Ultron, business had almost seemed to slow down a bit. The Avengers were being called on less, and things were fairly quiet at the moment. You all still had your missions both together and separate; Steve being on the hunt for Brock Rumlow and you were taking on smaller, home base missions since your secret search for the Winter Soldier went cold. Although you two spent time apart, it did make the coming home amazing. Not to mention that sex with a super enhanced partner was out of this fucking world.

You and Steve were getting a hang of this whole relationship thing. You had dated quite a few guys in the past, but no one like Steve. He was still old school when it came to courting you. He’d never show up without bringing you fresh lilies; your favorite flower. He would show you around Brooklyn; the places he used to go to when he was a boy. Or he’d just take you on his motorcycle across the Brooklyn Bridge at night to watch the stars. He was the perfect gentleman.

Steve was actually the first guy you really felt this deeply for, that it kind of scared you at times. Although things were definitely going better than you could imagine so far, it hadn’t stopped you from waiting for the other shoe to drop.

There were things about Steve’s past that he still refused to share with you, and that’s what worried you the most.

And speaking of your super soldier...

You watched him through hooded eyelids, as he pulled on his boxer briefs and stood from your king sized bed.

”Going somewhere?” You questioned, still trying to catch your breath, feeling the edges of your brand new relaxed hair, start to curl again.

Steve was now making his way around your bedroom, shoving things into a duffel bag.

“I have to catch a flight in a couple of hours.”

You quickly sat up, looking at your boyfriend confused. “Wait? You’re leaving again?”

“Yeah,” he tossed the bag on the bed, explaining, “I’ll be back in like a day or two.”

“Steve, you just got back last night. Is it another mission? Avenger stuff?” You rambled, trying to figure out why your boyfriend would be leaving after not even spending a full 24 hours at home with you.

Steve shook his head, throwing a few more items into the duffel and zipped it up. “No, this is something a little personal.”

And now you were really confused. “Personal?” You waited a bit, allowing him to elaborate on this personal business he had, but after nearly 20 seconds of dead silence you knew he wasn’t going to explain further. So, you thought you’d coax him yourself. “You care to share with the rest of the class?”

He chuckled, walking over to you and kissing your temple. “Trust me, doll, this is something you don’t want to know about.”

And that didn’t settle well with you.

You watched as he made his way over to your master bathroom, before stopping in his tracks. His shoulders slumped, and he then turned to face you, leaning against the frame of the bathroom door. He had a look of guilt across his face.

What could he be feeling guilty about?

“Come with me.” He offered.

You blinked several times, making sure you heard what you heard. “What?”

“Come with me tonight. It’s better that I show you anyway.” He sounded so sincere, but you weren’t sure what your answer would be. “So, whadda you say?” He reached his hand out toward you.

You took in a deep breath, contemplating on what you should do. But the answer came to you quickly, as you reluctantly stood to your feet and walked over to him. He smiled softly, pulling you into his arms and kissing your lips, before the two of you walked into the bathroom together.

Holding your shaking hand, Steve walked you into what you now knew was a hospice located in Washington, DC. You kept trying to rack your brain about this personal business Steve had until the moment you stepped through the door.

It was the other shoe, and it dropped hard.

You had never mentioned it, even after your father insisted that you should. You tried to justify that you could live your life without it ever being brought up ever again. Or you always believe that if Steve brought it up, that he would tell you in his own way. But it never happened, and it also never stopped it from burning a hole in your mind from time to time.

“Wait here.” Steve told you, as the two of you stopped outside of a room. He gave your hand a small squeeze, leaning down to kiss your cheek.

All you could do was nod, watching him walk into the room. You leaned up against the wall, to keep your legs from going out and to possibly eavesdrop.

“...and how’s my best girl doing?”

The words you heard Steve utter on the other side of the wall, cut through you like a knife. You knew they shouldn’t have, but they did.

You could barely hear anyone in the room other than Steve’s voice.

“...there’s someone I want you to meet. She’s real special to me.”

Was the last thing you heard when Steve appeared at the doorway, eyes shining down at you. He grabbed your hand in his, once more, giving it another squeeze. You wanted to run at this moment, because you knew exactly what was going to happen, but your legs reluctantly betrayed you, and you started following your boyfriend.

When you walked into the room, and Steve stepped out of the way, you finally saw her.

She was weak and frail, but the woman you knew so little of was beautiful and strong. She was the first woman to ever defy the odds of being the first woman SHIELD agent. She paved the way for women like you, your mom, Nat, and Agent Hill.

Her eyes were the most familiar. No matter how much she had aged over the years, physically, her eyes were still the same. Dark, mysterious, and full of hope. Those eyes had been haunting you ever since you and Steve nearly got blown to smithereens by corrupt SHIELD agents, nearly four years ago.

Those eyes belonged to none other than Margaret Carter, or so you knew her as Agent Peggy Carter.

A woman who’s memory you had been afraid of for years.

Only she wasn’t a memory.

She was here.

Right now.

In the present.

Staring back at you.

“Y/N, this is Peggy. Peggy, this is Y/N, my girlfriend.” Steve said, introducing the two of you.

You smiled shyly, giving the elderly woman in front of you a wave. While on the inside you were dying.

“Oh, Steven, she’s beautiful.” Peggy managed to muster out in her current state.

“I told you.” Steve smiled, placing his hand on your lower back.

“Come.” She was barely able to lift her hand to beckon you over. “Come, sit. A bit of a girl’s chat, yeah?”

Again, all you could do was nod, as Steve guided you to a vacant chair next to Peggy’s bed. A chair that you knew that Steve had occupied before.

To say you were nervous was an understatement. Here you were sitting next to the woman of whom the man you love, had loved, or still loved. You weren’t quite sure of that anymore.

Steve explained to you about her growing Alzheimers, which was now beginning to worsen with each passing day. She remembered Steve, but five minutes into the conversation, she would be shocked and surprised to see that he made it out of the ice alive. He had to explain to her who you were, and each time she took you with kindness. No bitterness or resentment. She would comment every single time that Steve looked happy with you, and you had a certain glow that she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

Then, five minutes later, like an eraser to a chalkboard, her mind would be wiped clean.

“So,” Steve began nervously, hands shoved into his pockets.

You both were now standing outside the facility, as visiting hours were over.

You didn’t know how you were going to handle this conversation. You were both upset and relieved. Relieved that Steve finally opened up about Peggy, but upset that it took him this long and hadn’t even bothered to tell you she was at least alive in the first place.

“How long’ve you been coming here?”

He looked off to the side, avoiding eye contact with you. “Since I found out she was still alive.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Honestly?” He finally looked at you. “I wasn’t sure how you’d react. Every time’s Peggy’s name was mentioned, in any capacity, I could see how it would hurt you, and I didn’t want you to go through that.”

You folded your arms, across your chest. “I’m a big girl, Steve. You should have told me. I had to hear it from my father.”

His head snapped back, looking at you surprised. “Your father? Fury told you? When?”

“When I woke up, after Ultron.”

Now his hands were placed on his hips. “You mean to tell me that you’ve known for almost two years, and you didn’t say anything?”

“You’ve known longer than that and you never said shit to me.” You argued back. It was the audacity of him that had you reeling right now. “For the last two years, I have been patiently waiting for you to come clean, Steve. Why now?”

Steve waited a few seconds, sighing, and looking down at his shuffling feet. “She’s dying. They told me she doesn’t have much longer to go.”

You didn’t know why, but that made you even more angry. He waited until the possibility of Peggy’s death to tell you that she was even alive. You couldn’t deal with this. At least not right now.

“I’m sorry, Steve,” this time it was you who tried to avoid Steve’s gaze, “but I need to be alone right now to process all of this.” You immediately turned and started walking away from him, ignoring his calls, as the tears fell from your eyes.

TAGS: If you wanna be tagged, please Tag yourself.

[fragilecapric0rnn]

“it’s okay, i couldn’t sleep anyway” for the prompt thing!! (-patheticgirlsteve)

OKAY SO this prompt is from a prompt list I rb'd in December (wowza!) and I found the writing for this prompt half finished in my WIPs folder today and decided to finish it!

This ficlet is also a look into the in-progress When Harry Met Sally-inspired AU/canon divergence fic. I've been sitting on both that fic and this snippet for far too long and have been itching to share something. So, here's the something!

(something set in the late summer of '98, in a city that doesn't bode well during heat waves)

It’s an unusually hot night in Steve’s apartment. 

It's going to be an unusually hot week in the city, actually.

Steve has gotten used to the temperate San Francisco weather in the 11 years he's been a resident. But after 11 years, he's still surprised at the random bursts of heat that creep in during these last few weeks of August. Just in time for him and his students to sit inside the toaster oven that is his classroom during the first week of school.

Thankfully, it's not a school night. The last week of his summer vacation, and he's spent most of the daylight hours dangling half of his body out of the screen-less street-facing window in his apartment, praying a breeze would whip past him. (It didn't).

After an hour of tossing and turning in bed, in nothing but a pair of boxers, the open window providing no relief, the air stale and hot and a bit sticky, he decided to move to the living room, where he will still be suffering, but at least there's a TV out there.

A movie he remembers seeing with Robin in the theater during their Oakland days is playing as soon as he flicks on the TV, reminding him of how long it's been since they've lived together, let alone in that first apartment in Oakland. Freshly 20 and 21, figuring out how to live on their own, thousands of miles from everyone and everything they knew. Figuring out how to deal with the calmness of it all.

Remembers talking about the movie again in '92, and being annoyed with all of his friends (Eddie and Nancy) who thought that Lloyd and Diane broke up in London. Wonders if they're still as cynical about love today as they were back then.

As he's counting the years back in his head, the phone rings, pulling him out of his thoughts.

“Hel-lo?” He answers, remembering that it is 2am in the middle of the word, dragging it into two syllables to make it seem like he's shocked that someone is calling him.

“What the hell are you doing awake at this hour?” Eddie quips, Steve reflexively rolls his eyes, at both the tone of his voice and the question itself.

“How do you know that you didn’t just interrupt my much needed beauty sleep?” He scoffs, flicking his head like he would if Eddie were sitting right here on the couch with him. Eddie must pick up on it, chuckling over the phone, a similar sound to the one he made when he was sitting on this couch hours ago, suffering with Steve in his apartment.

Now there's something twenty-one year old Steve would be shocked to learn. That him and Eddie became friends, at all.

“I can hear the TV.” Steve hums in response, turns the volume down a notch or two. “But, here’s a courtesy ‘I’m sorry’ for the late night call.”  

“It’s okay. I couldn’t sleep anyway.” Steve sighs as the slightest breeze rolls through the open window. He's a much better sleeper than twenty-one year old Steve, but due to recent life-changing events and this damn heat-wave, a late-night phone call with Eddie is almost routine at this point

“I miss Evie’s apartment. She had AC.” Eddie says, casually. Steve still doesn't get how he can talk about her so casually. How he can just bring her up like it's nothing. If he even thinks about -

“I still can’t believe you got your heartbroken by a trust fund baby.” He says, cutting off his own thought.

“I’m more heartbroken about that AC unit right now,” still casual, as if he is actually heartbroken about an AC and not a person.

“What’re you watching?” He asks.

“Say Anything.” 

“Channel?”

“12.” 

The scene where Lloyd is talking to Diane’s father on the prison yard. It makes him think of Eddie on the other line, sitting in his unintentional bachelor pad a few blocks away from his own. The thought must’ve made Eddie’s ears burn. 

“That’s not what visitation is actually like, ya know?” His voice is soft.

“Oh yeah?” Steve says, wanting to encourage but not pry.

“Yeah. It’s indoors, at tables, cold and gray. Feels dirty and sterile at the same time.” Eddie says.

“I always thought it happened between a plane of glass, with a telephone on either side of the glass.” Steve offers, giving him an out, a chance to change the subject if he wants to bow out.

“That’s what it’s like in county jail. Prison’s different.” Steve hums again, knows there’s no need to respond with anything else. Steve doesn’t need to ask him how he knows all of this. He knows that Eddie doesn’t expect him to ask. That’s the thing, about old friends, about them, about their whole gang. There are certain things they’ll always know about each other. 

His mind drifts to a little Eddie and a younger Wayne, walking into a room just like Eddie had described, going through the motions. It pulls at his chest a little. 

“Do you still think they broke up in London?” Steve tests.

“I don’t think they broke up in London?” Eddie says, a tad defensive. 

“Yes you do, or you did.” He remembers the conversation, he knows Eddie must remember the conversation.

“When did I say that?” 

“In San Diego, we had a whole thing about it, the five of us.” The drunk and loud debate was held stuffed into a diner booth in San Diego. Before you left.

Eddie pauses.

“I did say that, didn’t I?” 

“You sure did.” 

“Well, to answer your question, no. I don't think so. I think that they’re two weirdos who were meant for each other.” Eddie says, Steve sinks further into the couch, holds the phone up with his shoulder.

“That's exactly what I said then.” 

"Well, I think it now."

"Me too." It comes out softer than he expected. Suddenly thankful that this conversation is happening over the phone, so he can scrunch the feeling away from his face, take a deep breath and shake the feeling that just washed over his body.

“I know a thing or two about weirdos who’re meant for each other.” Eddie says playfully, that tone he uses when he's half-joking, but half-serious. Steve feels something bubble in the very depths of his stomach. 

“Oh yeah? Who?” 

“You and Robin.” Pop. He lets out a deep breath.

“Ha ha.” Steve says, toning up the sarcasm.

“Max and Lucas, Joyce and Jim, the entire gang who’s bonded by the terrors of the 80s and government NDA’s.” Steve’s laugh barks out of him, he can’t hide how surprised he is at these words coming out of Eddie’s mouth. 

“What? What’s so funny?” 

“Nothing, it’s just…” He trails off, trying to choose his next words carefully. “Not used to you talking about the past. Hasn’t really been your thing.” His mind drifts momentarily to San Diego again. Watching him hail that cab. Running away. 

“There's a lotta things that I used to do, or not do.” There’s a pause. Either of them could say something, there’s something dangling in the air between them, between their two phone lines, filling the space between their two apartments. Just as Steve opens his mouth to say something, cut the tension, snatch the feeling out of the air, Eddie beats him to it.

[1941-crowley-slut]

Rant incoming

I cannot STAND how my mom talks to me about church when she wants me to go.

For context, we obviously stopped going during covid so we were away for 2-3 years and though she watched the live broadcast every Sunday, I didn't. In fact I always deliberately left the room at that time to stay away from it. At some point I told her I don't believe anymore (honestly I remember having doubts and questions (Crowley coded lmao) since I was a kid but 11-12 is where it really just set in that I don't have that kind of faith). She didn't take ir horribly bad but told me at the time she'd like it if I still joined her at church sometimes. Which, fine. Okay.

Fast forward to when she is actually going back to church and just throws on me the news that I am going too. Doesn't ask, just tells me I'm going. And I'm pissed as fuck the whole day after that, to the point that when she asks me to find my clothes for church I actually just keep looking at my closet and want to tear everything apart. I really avoid conflicts with my mother but this one had me. I was PISSED. So when she finally asked what was going on I told her "I don't want to go". And it wasn't so much that I wasn't willing to do it for her, it's that I felt she had no regard for my beliefs and just wanted her way. A

And funnily enough, she did. Because the reponse to that was: "I know, but I'd already told you I want you to come with me sometimes. Is it so terrible, you can't even make this one little sacrifice for your mother?"

Not me being guilt tripped, but anyway. I don't remember the end of that conversation but I remember other times. Once again for context, I was in 12th grade the year that passed and it was incredibly difficult study-wise. I had 6-7 hours of school every day, then anywhere from 2-5 hours of extra studies (sometimes almost immediately) and then I also had to do homework for both school and extra studies (seperate) and a lot of it was learning things by heart, plus we had tests and exams all the time like ALL the time, some weeks I'd have 5 tests in 3 days and I was going insane. Plus on extra studies we wrote exams on Saturdays. So it was all very very hectic and mom knew that and she was very awesome for the most part, but when it came to church she just didn't. Listen. To me.

She would go "You'll come this Sunday because the next weeks will be harder for you" but the matter of the fact was, she didn't know what weeks were harder for me. She thought for xyz reasons that later it'd be worse, but in reality the times she wanted me to go i was drowning in work and getting anxiety attacks and mental breakdowns cause everything was so much. Too much. And I'd say something like "Well this week's pretty bad" and expect her to get the hint but she'd go "it's just one hour in the morning, how important is it really, you probably wouldnt even be studying then"

(Not to mention it's not really 1 hour cause I need like an hour just to wake up and get ready, then 20 minute drive, the service was either 1 or 1 and a half hours, then it was however long chatting up with all the church people, another 20 minute drive home and then I was tired and we would have lunch and I just wanted to relax and sleep etc etc. So it wasnt at all just an hour. And maybe even if I hadn't gone to church that day, it'd still be afternoon and I wouldn't have gotten started on any work. But at least I would have spent some time for myself and then would force myself to work. But anyway again)

She just does this thing where she doesn't even ask or give me the illusion of a choice. Cause the truth is that church is usually not that bad, I can deal with it, it's fine. But I hate it just because she makes me feel forced to go. If she was just like "Hey, could you come with me to church this Sunday? I'd like that" I would be much happier to go. I know she doesn't want to be by herself and that she worries about what the church peoole will think (which pisses me off as well but thats another story), I don't mind keeping her company. But I mind when she suddenly springs it on me on Saturdays that "We're going to church tomorrow" and even if I show my discomfort with it she's like "Well you have to come sometimes."

And she just she has this way that I don't understand that when she says anything related to me going to church (e.g. "Find your clothes for tomorrow to see if anything needs to be ironed"), she says it in this firm tone and so suddenly that you just even subconsciously know you have no say in this. I don't get to react to this or have an opinion, it's just something I have to do. Because she said so. And if I was to try and react, she'd circle right back to guilt-tripping me (which at this point would be really funny because I have been trying lately to help her in every way I can so it's not like "You do everything for me and I'll do this small favor for you by coming with you", I have been offering to help with chores, I've been offering to learn stuff I dont know how to do so I can help her around the house, I have been helping as far as I can. But nonetheless I know this will end badly if I try to argue)

Anyway yeah it's just. I'm tired. At first I thought it was her desperate attempt to get me back into the church, to make me believe again. Now, though I still think she clings onto some hope about that, I also believe she thinks I'm too far gone for that and really just wants me there for company and for the eyes of the world, so none of the people know I'm not a believer anymore and supposedly think of her as a failed mother.

I'd just like to be counted like an equal person in here. Especially what with reaching adulthood and all. Like she actually scolded me when I said "I'd like to go out with my friends" and waited for their approval, because she said I was just making announcements and she wants me to ask next time. Even though I was still essentially waiting for them to say yes or no, I wasn't announcing anything. And she's said this before too, I'd leave for extra studies a little earlier sometimes to go get bubble tea and I'd tell her and then she'd go "I want you to ask beforehand". Why? She wasnt even home, no one was, and I would've left like 30 minutes later anyway cause I had to, what's the big deal? Or is it just about being controlled, hm? Is it that she can't watch me be an independent person? Feels like it.

Anyway my point was I have to literally ask for everything, like with a "Can I" and a question mark and all, because "We might have something else planned" (which as I said, if they had something planned for us to do would they not tell me? And either way, if something came up I'd just tell my friends I couldn't hang out after all cause something came up and it'd be fine. But no, she insisted.) but when it comes to me she just says "You're coming" and that's it and I HATE it. I HATE IT.

If she thinks she's bringing me closer to church this way someone tell her she couldn't be more wrong.

[scribe-of-hael]

Tell me about Jett!

Oh boy,  where do I start !

Well Jennette Jasper,  aka Jett Jasper, before anything to do with Cybertronians or the war. Was raised by her grandparents on a farm after her parents went through a nasty divorce. Neither parent was capable of taking care of her, so her grandparents adopted her.

During her younger years, around 20 when she joined the air force being apart of ROTC . She saw the conflict happening with the Cybertronian war (i imagine they have been on earth for quite a while) and wanted to help.

Jett showed skills of a very intelligent/skilled  pilot they only down side was she wasn't very kin on orders. In the air Jett could see opportunities that on ground wouldn't be seen. This lead to her almost being dishonorable discharge do to "negligence" and " endangerment" of herself and fellow pilots. She was stubborn but good at what she did .

This caught the attention of none other Than Optimus Prime who had been trying have collaborations with the government. At the time where the only Air support they had was Jetfire (cause I added him in here) and he wanted to add to that to help distract the seekers. (He didn't want them to combat but at least lure them away from the fight) .

Despite the warnings from her commanders Optimus insisted to at least give her an opportunity to which she accepted. This lead to a human driven Autobot Flight Support Squadron.

Now Jett is a stubborn woman always has been and has never ever been afraid of Bots no matter how big or scary. That I included Jetfire who she bumped heads with alot because at the time Jetfire was expected to lead this squad. They didn't always see eye to eye. But this bitterness and frankly rivalry,  turned into a understanding and Friendship. You could say Jetfire and Jett are Amica by the time the war ends!

But all this and where is Starscream? Well, being autobot air support means encounters with the seekers. At first Optimus wanted them to just lire them away, but that wanst going to happen. Tye seekers are elite flyers with millions of year worth of experience. That is why when a mere human challenges the GREAT Starscream he takes offense. "How could a human keep up with me?!". But because Starscream had underestimated her she was able to doop him ALOT. She didn't fly like a human pilot she was unpredictable with her movements after Starscream felt he knew all the capabilities of a human pilot and their machines. But she was pushing limit of herself and the plane just to get shots in.

Their Dog fights were intense and Starscream became more and more furious that a human was keeping up with him. They were also equals. She'd get him down, he'd get her down. It came to a point out of emotional outrage that Starscream would abandon whatever fight he was having just to go attack her because he knew if he didn't someone was going to mess up.

Now Jett is called Jett because that's her Call sign, but Starscream had a call sign for her of his own. J-Bird. More of a mocking because of how small she was and how defenseless she would be without her "wings".

Come down he did knock her out of the sky, they finally got to see each other face to face. Starscream was intrigued and amazed she showed zero signs if fear depsite being injured. This was his opponent and she didn't back down.

It runs into the classic trope. Yeah Jett has been yonked by Decepticon a few times. Bot for spy work and just purely by accident because they wanted to use her for information or as a hostage. When this happened she got more of a glimpse into their world. Oddly enough depsite the military aspect , she saw they were …People. just people following orders, just like her, just like the autobots.

The more time she spent combating them the more she got to know them indirectly. That included Starscream and witnessing first hand Megatron's abuse towards him and other bots.

So much so, one day it earned her looking at the end of a barrel of Megatron's fusion Canon. All because she called the leader of the Decpeticons out infront of all of them that he was striaght up, a bully to people only trying to help him. It took Starscream to persuad him that they need her to information did he hesitate.

Jett's bias aginst Megatron only grows when a special plot point happens called the Artic Attack.

Tldr: they both crash, they both almost die and they only had each other. Words were exchanged, hopes, dreams, philosophy,  life and even ideology.  A conversation in so many year aof fighting each other never heard. While both survived and no one knows what they talked about but them. There was clearly somthing different. To where the two started to actively avoid each other in combat or make hits that only temporarily incapacitated.  This lead to having conversation in no man's land behind both their backs of their leaders. And a conversation of both trying to convince the other to either stand down or join the opposing side. Neither of these things happened.

Jett became a commander of a base, with he releite Squadron. Taking the freidnshio of Dorothy, who later down the line after the fight of the battle of the bay brought Megatron who had decided to join forces with The Autobots.

This, pissed Jett of to no end. Depsite the help he'd bring this war was as much his fault as it was the Autobot. Needless to say for years Megatron knows Jett doesn't like him and its VERY clear why. ALOT more stuff happens that is Pre-Earthspark. So if you'd like to ask more you can - i just feel like this is alot to read AHHHH.

But I am currently writing a Pre-squeal Story called Transformers: AllSpark that involves Jett, building the world, exploring the fights and leading into Earthspark! Which I am doing a re-write called TF: Earthspark Ignited ! Which redose s2 and add some new characters,  some we know, some we don't!

[immobiliter]

VEILGUARD VERSE: VAL

pre veilguard

so following the events of origins + awakening, val continues to serve ferelden as warden commander in amaranthine, which becomes her home. depending on the arc, she either serves there alongside alistair ( her default romance in the case where no other romance has been plotted ) had he stayed a warden and not been made king during the landsmeet in denerim, or he is king and the two have cut all ties to one another aside from anything political that should involve the crown and the grey wardens

i'm still not 100% sure what to do with her absence in dai as she heads west to look for a cure to the calling, seeing as that's a plot thread that bioware conveniently dropped. my default for the dai timeline is that she's either absent or she can be called upon as the warden ally for the here lies the abyss quest

however, by the time that the exalted council has ended, the inquisition either disbanded or condensed into a peacekeeping force, and the years pass between trespasser and veilguard, val continues to serve as warden commander in ferelden as is her duty

by this point, she has rebuilt the wardens in ferelden to be a sizeable force, worthy of the numbers that duncan had under his command prior to ostagar. val employs many of the same methods that weisshaupt does in terms of recruitment, making arrangements with the crown in denerim for convicted criminals to opt to go to amaranthine and, provided they pass their joining, serve in the grey wardens for the rest of their lives. others, of course, can still join the wardens voluntarily.

during veilguard ( mostly under a spoiler cut ! )

the common fandom assumption is that veilguard starts in 9:52 dragon which would make val 41 years old, and a grey warden for just over 20 years at this point. wardens usually start to hear the calling at this stage in their lives and val is no exception, but Events that i will elaborate on below the cut force her to put those anxieties to the side for the sake of the greater good. again.

we don't know how the blight started or where it originated from in the south, and i am open to plotting depending on the thread etc, but i very much like the idea that it starts within the brecilian forest where we already know that the blight exists ( since it was a blighted eluvian in some elven ruins that corrupted val in the first place and forced her to become a grey warden or die ).

but regardless of how or where it starts, as soon as word reaches amaranthine, val has to mobilise her warden forces and work with the crown to try to get a handle on the threat. i don't like the implication in the inquisitor's missives that the south would instantly fall apart were it not for them lmao, not when we've spent three games trying to save the fucking world down there, and as the hero of ferelden and a senior warden who has served during a previous blight ( admittedly not a double blight headed by two of the evanuris lmao ), she becomes a figure whose word carries a huge amount of authority and weight as the resistance effort gets underway.

but she does struggle with the fact that she knows her time is almost up and her calling nears, torn between knowing that she must head to the deep roads soon or become a mindless darkspawn herself, but also knowing that ferelden still needs her. the only people who would know that she hears it call to her ( what we now know to come from the titans ) are those closest to her. this is not common knowledge.

being dalish, she is understandably quite shocked by the revelations that are coming out of the north regarding solas, the evanuris and the blight that they are unleashing across thedas, but val's sense of identity is very fractured by this point in her life. yes, she is dalish, but she is also ferelden, and she is also a grey warden. she is worldly enough at this point for the reveal that her gods might actually be the villains of the story to not entirely shatter her beliefs as they once might have done.