#but i thought the ONE thing that i could start now without having to wait to start the 'rest of my life' is therapy

[pitchsidestories]

el sueño de una niña II Jenni Hermoso x Reader

masterlist I word count: 2175

a/n: dear readers, the inspiration for this oneshot was Jenni Hermoso's speech at the Ballon d'Or ceremony, enjoy. 🖤💜

“Wait, I know that you’re a football player. Why did you come from my mamis bedroom?”

Jenni was on her way to sneak out of your appartement but when that small voice held her back. Curiously she turned the head around to look into the eyes of a little girl who the Spaniard estimated to be between five to six years old.

That must have been your daughter Mila Jenni thought to herself. It was the big confession after the great night the two of you had spent together.

Something in the reveal activated her flight mode, the forward’s plan was to leave and never look back. Her life was so chaotic she didn’t feel ready to be a part of a family.

Even though everything about yesterday touched her more than Jenni wanted to admit. Images of it flashed behind her eyes capturing passion, beauty and love. 

“Uhm.. you didn’t see me, okay?”, the raven-haired woman returned the question flustered.

“But you’re the Jenni Hermoso, right? The one who won the World cup with Spain.”, Mila looked at her big-eyed, her voice full of adoration.

“Yes, but don’t tell anyone.”, Jenni replied, pressing a finger to her lips to underline her words.

“Wow.”, the little girl whispered amazed.

“Sorry, I really need to leave now. I’ve a speech to write.”, the striker apologized.

This didn’t stop Mila to confide in the older woman. “I’d love to be a football player like you when I’m grown up.”

“You do?”, something of your daughter’s sincerity made Jenni stay despite her announcement earlier that she needed to go.

“Yes.”, the girl emphasized.

“Hm..”

“It’s a big dream of mine.”, Mila added smiling shily.

“You’ll have to work hard for it.”, the Spaniard told her seriously.

“I can do that.”, your daughter assured her.

“And people will try to keep you from it.. they will tear you down and hope you’ll be compliant.”, Jenni continued gravely, kneeing down so she could look into the girl’s eyes.

“Did they do that with you?”, Mila questioned empathetically, placing her small hand carefully to the dark-haired woman’s cheek.

“Yes. All my life. So, promise me one thing, okay?”, she confirmed.

“Okay?”

“Don’t let anyone tell you what you can and cannot be. Promise?”, Jenni pressed a kiss to your daughter’s fingers.

“I promise.”, Mila answered solemnly.

“If you excuse me now.”, the older woman gave her an apologetic look.

“Bye, Jenni. I hope I’ll see you back soon.”, the girl said in an optimistic tone that left no doubt that the football player would return to your appartement.

“We’ll see. Thank you though.”, Jenni answered gratefully.

“Thank you for what?”, your daughter frowned confused.

“You just gave me an idea for my speech.”, the football player’s face lit up with excitement as she spoke.

Jenni shuffled the pieces of papers once more while someone applied her make up for the Ballon D’Or ceremony.

The writing on her notes was almost illegible, she had scribbled down her thoughts way too quickly on her way to the venue. It didn’t matter. She knew now what she wanted to say on stage. Still, she refused to let go of her notes.

“Jenni, have you actually prepared a speech?”

Alexias face appeared behind her in the mirror, She was already in her suit, her hair pulled into a low bun.

Jenni was about to complain about the surprised tone of Alexias voice when Patri joined them: “No way! I thought you’d just start talking like you always do.“

Jenni raised one eyebrow at the reflection of her two Spanish teammates and grinned: “That was the initial plan but I had a better idea.“

“Did someone spark your inspiration?”, Marta asked innocently.

Once the make-up artist let go of her face, she turned towards them and nodded: “Yes. And I hope she’s watching.“

Her teammates exchanged unreadable glances without saying a word while Jenni walked past them, leading the way to the award ceremony.

For what felt like hours, they sat there and listened to men talk. Jennis gaze kept going back to the clock, willing the time to slow down or the speakers to talk faster so Mila had a chance to watch before her bedtime.

Finally, she was called up on stage to receive her award. There was applause but she knew a lot of the people weren’t satisfied with her nomination. She held onto her notes and it all faded into the background once she started speaking about the little girl that wanted to follow in her footsteps, the girl that deserved to have a safer environment to play football in.

Her teammates welcomed her back to her seat with standing ovations. Alexia nodded at her once with a set jaw while Aitana gave her an inquiring look: “You dedicated it to a young girl? Who’s that?”

“Someone I met this morning.“, Jenni replied truthfully as she sat down.

“She seems to have left quite an impression on you.“, Caroline remarked.

“She did. Sometimes I wonder why I put up with all this shit… but there are so many little girls out there that should have it better than we did back then.“

“I agree with that.“, Alexia chimed in.

Marta nodded in agreement: “Me too, obviously. We had to put up with a lot.“

“Let’s be honest, we still do.“, Aitana whispered.

Jenni answered with new-found determination: “Yes but until she gets older, we might have already changed some more things.“

“I bet we will.“, Salma said quietly, before they all went quiet again and focused on the next award recipient.

Much to the surprise of her national and former club teammates Jenni announced at the after party, the alcohol-free wine glass still resting in her hand untouched. “I think I’m going to leave.”

“Leave?”, Patri repeated puzzled.

“Yeah, this party is boring anyway.”, the striker shrugged. The other women secretly thought the same, they couldn’t celebrate like the men around them as they were having a national team game the next morning.

 Seeing Jenni step into your apartment while she still wore her glamorous dark suit jacket showing a large portion of her skin underneath felt almost unreal to you. It wasn’t that long ago when Mila and you watched the ballon d’or ceremony on tv and now she was back in flesh and blood. The football player was even more gorgeous here than on the screen.

Quickly Jenni revealed that the celebrations had bored her which was the moment you told her about your night.

“Mila stayed awake the whole time, she didn’t want to fall asleep until you were on the stage, Jenni.”

“She watched?”, the dark-haired woman asked happily.

“Yes, Mila loved everything about your speech.”, you nodded thrilled by the fact that your excitement was mirrored in the forward’s face.

“I’ve to thank her. She inspired me.”, she confessed.

“You inspired her as well.”, you admitted smiling.  

“Even if she’s the only one, I reached my goal.”, Jenni beamed.

“To be fair I think you inspired many more with your words.”, you remarked solemnly.

“I hope so.”, the dark-haired woman sighed.

“Trust me.”, you answered softly.

After a meaningful pause you added. “I almost thought you wouldn’t call or wanted to see me again back then you left without a word in the morning.”

“That would sound like me actually.”, the footballer cleared her throat nervously. She loved to play the game, haunting for the next great beauty to court and lay down in bed with before going on the haunt again, always being a restless player. All was fair in love and football.

“She’ll appreciate the thank you though, it’ll mean a lot to her.”, you said while you bit your lip.

“That’s why I’m here. I want to thank you both.”, Jenni looked at you sincerely.

“Shouldn’t you be at the grand afterparty sipping champagne and flirting with pretty women?”, you lifted an eyebrow curiously.

“Not many women there that aren’t my teammates. And I’m not allowed to drink, I’ve to be back with my national team tomorrow.”, the striker chuckled amused.

“I see.”

“And maybe I preferred to spend my time here.”, she acknowledged, one hand ran tensely through her long hair.

You considered her for a moment and nodded in the direction of Milas bedroom: “Sadly she’s already asleep…“

“That’s okay. I could stay if you let me.“

You knew you should have thought about it for longer but you couldn’t resist the thought of Jenni staying one more night: “Yes, you can. If you promise to say goodbye in the morning.“

“If I was planning to sneak out again, I wouldn’t have told you.“, Jenni half-joked.

You tilted your head: “Good point.“

“So?”

“You can stay the night.“, you finally confirmed.

Relief seemed to flash across Jennis face for a millisecond: “Thanks.“

“You’re welcome, Jenni.“

The next morning you were woken up by footsteps on the wooden floor. Your heart sank immediately, thinking it was Jenni breaking her promise so you refused to turn around. You didn’t want to watch her leave again. Instead you heard a tiny voice whisper in awe: “Jenni!”

“Woah, you’re already awake, little one. Good morning.“, Jenni yawned and stretched right next to you.

She was still here, still in your bed.

“I saw you! Last night!”, Mila said full of excitement.

“You did? And did you like my suit? It’s on that chair.“, Jenni smiled, pointing across the room.

You watched as Mila walked over and gently touched the fabric in awe.

“It’s beautiful.“

“Right? Next year I’ll take you and your mum with me.“, the football player said, winking at you as if to tell you that she knew you were awake.

While the smile fell from your face, Milas eyes lit up: “What? Really?”

“Yes, why not?”

You might have been desperate for her to stay another night but you weren’t delusional. Who knew where the two of you were in a year? Most likely not sharing a bed anymore.

“Don’t promise her too much.“, you warned the football player.

Jenni was unusually quiet before replied: “I… mean it.“

“You mean it?”

“I do. I want to keep seeing you and her.“, she said with determination.

Milas eyes had been darting back and forth between the two of you like she was watching a tennis match. “We want to keep seeing you too!”, she yelled happily.

Completely ignoring you, Jenni turned back to your daughter and pulled her onto the bed: “Would you like to see a football game in Italy tonight?”

Mila was bursting with joy: “Yes!”

“I mean isn’t that too spontaneous? Like what about the airplane tickets?“, you interjected.

“I can take care of it all. But only if that’s okay with you.“, Jenni offered while Mila put on her best puppy eyes: “Pleeease.“

Who were you to deny your daughter such a once in a lifetime opportunity?

With a hesitant nod, you finally agreed: “Okay.“

The day has flown by, Mila and you quickly packed your bag for one night, before following your lover to get on the plane. While the striker was on the team walk, your daughter and you did your own exploring the Italian surroundings. It was like a daydream from which you didn’t want to wake up.

In the evening, you could feel from the stands Jennis glances on you who was standing on the pitch with some of her friends. Next to you Mila couldn’t hide her excitement seeing her favourite players live. It genuinely warmed your heart to witness and share that special moment with your child.

“Pretty girl from next door? She’s so your type, Jenni.”, Laia Codina wiggled her eyebrows.

“That’s why she’s here.”, the forward winked at the defender.

With a smirk on her face Alexia bumped her elbow into her teammates side. “Who would’ve thought that Jennifer found herself a family.”

“Strange things happen, Ale.”, Jenni shrugged with her shoulders.

“Yes, it’s Halloween soon.”, Vicky threw in teasingly.

“Rude.”, the older striker commented smiling.

“Vicky.”, the Barcelona captain clicked her tongue reprovingly.

The test game ended in a draw, but that didn’t stop Jenni from giving you a passionate kiss.

“That wasn’t very subtle, Jenni.”, you laughed.

“I don’t care about subtle anymore.”, she clarified grinning.

“What about the others watching?”, you asked her, cheeks flushed.

“They just love to stare at pretty girls.”, Jenni stated firmly.

“Pretty girls, hm?”, you repeated. Admittedly under her intense gaze you felt more beautiful than ever before. She didn’t hide her desire towards you and wasn’t afraid to show it in the public.

“Yes.”, she confirmed.

“Kiss me again.”, you requested, your voice slightly hoarse from cheering. Before you even could finish your sentence, her lips were on yours, making both of your hearts flutter.

Everything started with a dream of a little girl which was your daughter, in which Jenni saw her younger self, Mila undoubtedly became her inspiration for the speech. The three of you would now dream together.

Keep dreaming.

gif source: https://www.tumblr.com/imverits/765621490900238336?source=share

[matchaelette]

gif by @yoongi-bts

when jungkook is a vessel of love, and love is as beautiful as the poets said it was

summary: idol!jk and oc!ash, established relationship, the first time 'I love you' was spoken out aloud. the more earlier stages of their relationship. yearning, tenderness, fluff, it's all sickeningly full of love.

genre: fluff

warnings: none.

word count: 3.4k

notes: life updates. one: i'm back. obviously. two: jung hoseok is back and ksj 1 is coming (!!!) three: I am officially a uni student and majoring in civil engineering. classes start from the first week of december. four: I have decided to officially name this drabble series *drumrolls* the hopeless romantic series. so, without further ado, welcome back, our hopeless romantic couple!

you’re in love with jungkook.

no, you’re not allowed to say that.

fuck what you’re allowed and not allowed.

you’re desperately, helplessly, hopelessly in love with jeon jungkook. your gorgeous, gorgeous boy.

yours.

then why are you not allowed to be in love with him?

because you’ve been dating him for three months. three months.

only three months, since you decided to stop pining after him, decided it was enough, after god knows how long. three months since that decision led you to be extremely nonchalant around him, calm and collected to a point where it almost looked fake (you’re a terrible actor), and the next thing you knew, you were heavily making out with him in the chilly air of a fall night. calm and collected, indeed. three months since you learned that jungkook was pining for you in the same manner, if not more, and three freaking months since both of you decided to date, being head over heels for one other ever since.

it's too soon to say ‘I love you’. even if you know deep down that you were in love with him even before dating him– but there’s no way you’re treading that water. the realization of being in love with him right now is enough to freak you out. no, it’s definitely too soon to declare ‘I love you’.

because you don’t know whether jungkook feels the same way. although it’s not like you need or expect him to feel the same way you do. just because you’re in love with him doesn’t mean he has to be. you can happily wait until he’s ready and feels the same way.

you’re just scared that he doesn’t want to feel that way. that you’ll scare him away.

look at him. does he look like he feels the same as you?

jeon jungkook looks like a slow-motion daydream, standing in front of you. tight-fitting jeans, snug around the well-defined muscles of his thighs, and a black checkered shirt, sleeves rolled up, displaying the protruding veins of his arm. his curly hair covers the vein in his forehead, almost reaching down to his lips which were pouting in distress.

yeah, you don’t care how he feels. you’re in love with him.

but you are a graveyard of all the people you ever loved.

you can’t have jungkook join those ghosts of the past.

“three hours now. we’ve been trying to fix it for three hours.”, you shake your head, frustrated. you’ve been out all day today and the last thing you wanted to do when you got back home was your laundry. but the lack of fresh clothes compelled you to do it anyway. and everything would’ve been fine had you not entered your laundry room to discover the whole floor flooded with water. panicked and disoriented, your first instinct was to call jungkook, despite it being past midnight. when your boyfriend heard what had happened, he immediately demanded you step aside and that he was already on his way over to your house.

“this thing–”, the boy of your dream grumbles out loud in real life, breaking your thought train, “–hates me!”

oh, that.

now, it’s four in the morning and you’re both dripping wet, absolutely drained, standing in a puddle of water and soap. all you could do is to stare dejectedly at the washing machine. it was a losing battle.

“oh my god!”, jungkook cries out in indignation, “a minute ago it was sprinkling water in my face, now it’s sprinkling soapy water!”

“jungkook, move away”, you hurriedly pull your boyfriend away from your washing machine. he rebels under your grip, the patience he displayed half an hour ago was now transformed into rage.

how can someone be so cute when they’re mad?

“let me go, ash”, he points a threatening finger at the washing machine, “you wanted a fight, buddy? I’ll give you!”

“jungkook!”, you laugh and wrap your arms around his waist, “it already won! look at us!”

jungkook stares down at your attached bodies, soaked from top to bottom, while the washing machine looks like it is having a field trip.

“okay, I give up”, he sighs and rests his chin on the top of your head, “unless–”

“no unless.”

“hear me out first”, he smooches your hair, “you smell amazing by the way. anyways, unless– wait, what was I going to say? I was supposed to say something amazing.”

“I’m sure it was amazing, babe”, you chuckle with fondness, “but that thing is a lost cause. I’ll call maintenance in the morning. let’s take a shower and go to sleep, okay?”

“mhm. yeah”, he replies in affirmation but only tightens his arms around you.

“I’m sorry for calling you so late. I should’ve just– I don’t know. I mean, it was just a minor inconvenience. not a big deal. I don’t know why I freaked out–”

“princess, ssh”, jungkook coos, “you have a problem, you call me. doesn’t matter how small or big it is.”

“kook, I literally called you at one in the morning.”

“and I am very glad that I am the first person that crossed your mind. even though I couldn’t help you. I swear to god, this washing machine has a personal grudge against us.”

“thank you anyways”, you mumble against his chest.

“hey, this is what boyfriends are for.”

how is it possible not to love him?

you wake up to the humming of a honey-caramel voice in the distance.

you yawn and grab the crisply folded silk robe from the foot of your bed. the clothes haphazardly tossed on the ground last night were nowhere in sight, and neither was the person who did so. yet you could hear his hums, feel his warmth.

you smile.

the clock on the wall reflects a bright 11:10, and it’s safe to say that you’ve just woken up. after staying up with your rogue washing machine till four in the morning, you can’t really blame yourself. you feel very well-rested though, for the first time in a while.

jeon jungkook’s presence has that kind of power.

you make an effort to stay silent in your own house. your bare feet tiptoe against the icy floors, carrying you to the sweet melody you’re fairly certain is your boyfriend in the kitchen. and undoubtedly it is. jeon jungkook has his back turned towards you– white tee clinging to his physique, his hair damp and disheveled, singing softly to himself while doing the dishes.

you hold your breath and hug him from the back, resting your cheek against his spine.

jungkook, momentarily confused, laughs when he realizes it’s you.

“good morning princess.”

“good morning jungkook”, you inhale him in. he smells like peaches and baby soap. and fresh laundry. “you smell heavenly.”

“I just came out of the shower–”

 “–hey!”, you cut him short when he gently peels you off him, unexpectedly devoid of warmth, but jungkook hugs you back in an instant; your ear against his ribcage, his chin on the top of yours.

“mmm, that’s better”, you mumble, “did you do the laundry? you smell like detergent.”

 you can almost reach out and touch the outlines of his smile. “you couldn’t do it last night so I thought I’d take some work off your shoulders. I folded your clothes as well!”

“aww, you didn’t have to do– wait, the washing machine is fixed?”

“yeah, I called the repairmen in the morning and they said they were coming over. I was pretty surprised at how quickly they arrived.”

“what happened?”

“one of the pipes got leaked somehow. I think I also did some damage when I tried to fix it. but don’t worry, it’s as good as new.”

“not worrying”, you let go of jungkook and let muscle memory guide you to the coffee machine, “why did you wake up so early?”

 “it’s one p.m. in the afternoon. what’re you talking about?”, jungkook laughs.

“it’s one p.m.?!”, you choke on your coffee, “the clock– but it was eleven–”

“it’s out of battery. I got new ones though”, jungkook points at the bags sitting on your counter.

“you went grocery shopping? you spent an entire lifetime while I slept!”, jungkook chuckles at your awe, “tell me from the beginning. what did you do?”

“well, I called the repairmen as soon as I woke up and then I went to take a shower. they were here by the time I was done. I made us breakfast while they fixed your machine, went grocery shopping afterward, came back and did laundry, here I am now”, jungkook kisses your forehead, “all while someone slept like a baby.”

“oh my god. thank you so much.”

I love you.

“you’re welcome, babe”, he smiles, “I gotta leave now. but listen, I got you ice cream, popcorn and those salty chips you seem to love so much. call me if you need anything else.”

“huh? why though?”, you peer in confusion. you’re usually not very big on snacking. and jungkook knows that. unless it’s your–

“your period is supposed to start tomorrow, genius”, he rolls his eyes, “you don’t remember, do you?”

you clearly didn’t.

apparently, he did.

you tiptoe forward to hug jungkook, too stunned to form any coherent word. you hope jungkook doesn’t notice the tears filling your eyes but when he lifts your face to gently kiss your eyelids, you realize that he knew you were gonna cry.

yeah, I definitely love you.

“hello, jungkookie’s girlfriend!”

kim taehyungs’s visibly enthusiastic face beams at you through the screen of your phone. your initial reaction is to wave brightly at him, despite the slight confusion of whether you accidentally called him when you picked up the phone to facetime your boyfriend.

“hi, tae!”, you say heartily, “gosh, it’s been a while since I saw you.”

“and whose fault is that, huh?”, taehyung’s voice is a warm breeze on a spring evening, “jungkookie tells me you’ve been like… hella busy”

“I was. I mean, I am. it feels like I am always busy these days”, you sigh, “but never busy enough for you guys! how are you?”

“good. busy as well, but good.”

“kook told me last night. you guys work way too hard.”

“wait”, taehyung exploded into laughter, “jungkookie was at your place last night?”

“...yeah?”

“our manager was looking for him and jungkookie was going on and on about how he was in his room all night and manager hyung didn’t knock loudly enough!”

“oh my god, he wasn’t supposed to be at mine yesterday?”

“no, I mean, he was done working but he didn’t tell anyone before leaving the dorm!”

“that might be my fault”, guilt fills your eyes, “I was doing laundry last night and my washing machine started leaking water everywhere. I panicked and called kook. I’m sorry”

“hey, it’s okay, no harm was done”, taehyung looks amused, “so you were doing laundry at midnight? no wonder jungkookie is obsessed with you.”

“obsessed with me, huh?”, you smile playfully, concealing the tiny somersault your heart does.

“he literally never stops talking about you”, taehyung grins widely, “bro is whipped”

“hmm, I did call bro’s phone, right? or did I accidentally call you?”

“how do accidentally call taehyung instead of jungkook? one starts with t and one starts with j”, taehyung suddenly looks disgusted, “unless you saved him as something weird, in that case, I don’t wanna know–”

“kim taehyung.”

“or you can just tell me that you missed me, you know”, taehyung flips his phone camera and you spot a dancing jeon jungkook in the middle of a huge practice room, “but since the only person you care about is jungkookie–”

“kim taehyung–”

“–you called him, okay?”, you hear taehyung’s laughter, “I was playing games on his phone. he’s practicing extra today.

“practicing extra?”

“he said you guys made plans to hang out tomorrow.”

“we– we did”, you’re puzzled. jungkook continues to dance furiously, his quick and precise movements almost defying gravity, completely unaware of his surroundings, “wait, we planned to meet tomorrow because both of us had a clear schedule. why is he practicing extra today?”

“hobi hyung was asking him the same thing”, taehyung nods his head in mock disappointment, “we don’t really have a free schedule tomorrow. but he said that if you couldn’t meet tomorrow it’d be a while before you did. right?”

“y-yeah”, you blink.

“soooo, yeah. as I said, bro’s so whipped.”

oh god. be still my wild heart.

“this boy”, you finally exhale after a pause; feeling bad that he’s overworking himself to meet your needs, feeling grateful that it’s worth it to him.

“this boy, indeed. no, actually, we’re kinda proud of how amazingly we raised him.”

“you really, really did. ya’ll should give out parenting lessons.”

taehyung chuckles, “okay, I’ll give the phone to him.”

“tae, don’t”, you smile, quickly stopping him from calling jungkook, “just tell him to call me whenever he’s free, okay? I’ll be up.”

“okay, then. take rest, okay? don’t overwork yourself.”

“look who’s preaching”, you shoot him a stern look, “the kings of overworking themselves. take care, okay?”

taehyung laughs, “yeah. come over to the dorm whenever you’re free. we all miss you.”

“I will. bye!”

“kook– stop it–”, you say in between a few puffs of breath, “you’re– god– tickling me!”

“am I?”, jungkook wiggles his eyebrows, and smothers his face on the exposed skin of your tummy once again, causing you to almost choke with another round of laughter. the sensation of his lips against your tummy has the butterflies inside going frenzy, but a part of you is scared shitless that it has nothing to do with him and everything to do with yourself.

you want to laugh; you want to cry. you wanna twirl into a knot and fly up in the sky. jungkook has no idea of the power he has over you– his body molds into yours, one his hands have shaped, a design he has drawn, kissed it into a sculpture.

you love him, you love this human being staring at you from between your legs with all the love in this whole fucking universe, kind and whole and happy and real, jeon jungkook, you love him so fucking say it.

I love you. I love you so much that I can’t deny it any longer, the promise stays silent on your tongue.

you wanna cry.

at least, you think you do.

“your heartbeat is going crazy”, jungkook calms down once he’s done tickling you out of your wits. he moves between your thighs and presses his ear against your heart space while gently laying his head on your chest.

yeah, do you know that is because I love you and not because you tickled the living lights outta me?

“princess?”, he asks quietly.

say it.

“princess?”, jungkook raises his head and looks at you, mildly concerned “are you okay?”

say something.

instead, you stare at him. you stare at his eyes. if eyes are actually a mirror of people’s souls, jungkook’s eyes perfectly represent his– filled to the brim with tenderness, tranquility, and mirth. a few years ago, you had read somewhere that humans were created from the burned-out embers of stars. you never believed it. the same folks who start wars, spill blood, stealing lying deceiving and doing everything evil, cannot be created from something so divine.

however, jungkook, over and over again, contradicts that belief. you have no doubt he’s born out of stardust. and fiery comets, northern lights, solar eclipses, everything magic.

“why are you crying?!”, jungkook’s anxious voice snaps you out of your reverie. without realizing you find yourself getting pulled up to sit on his lap, straddling his thighs. “is it me? did I do something?”

“itsh nn-not”, you utter weakly but the words come out as a stifled sob. when jungkook doesn’t understand what you’re saying, he completely loses his composure. he lets go of you and attempts to pry himself away, fairly convinced that he must’ve done something stupid. but you dig your fingers in his arms, trying to communicate with your firm grip that he did nothing wrong. it’s you, you’re the stupid one.

it takes him a few more seconds to realize that you’re crying for something else altogether, and only then does he relax. he wraps his arms around you, letting you break down in his little protective bubble.

what is wrong with me? why does every feeling of mine come out as tears?

“it’s okay, it’s okay”, jungkook coos, “breathe. breathe with me.”

“inhale with me”, he holds eye contact and carefully guides your breath, “good. now exhale. in. and out. it’s okay. I love you. you’re okay, princess.”

and

everything

just

freezes

for a moment.

for a moment?

seems like a lifetime.

you never realize how many types of ‘I love you’s there are until they’re spoken out aloud. most ‘I love you’s are expressed as a confession, while there are some which are born out of panic. I love you. do you love me back? these ‘I love you’s are full of anxiety, and a desperate longing for reassurance, for arms that’ll keep them safe. some are born out of anger and frustration. I’m doing this for you, because I love you, why don’t you understand? then there are those which are born out of pure terror because I love you but I’m afraid that all I’ll ever do is hurt you.

jungkook’s ‘I love you’ sounded like it was nurtured, a flower that bloomed inside a long time ago. like a blanket woven from your favorite human on the entire planet and falling asleep with someone inside your heart no matter how alone you feel outside; a promise.

not that any of you were in the right state of mind to realize that.

you and jungkook realize at the same time. the words that have been spoken out to existence.

he stares at you; you stare at him. devastated, mouth hanging, eyes bulging. none of you breathing.

jungkook closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and opens them again.

“that was not a mistake”, his voice is deep and low. you hold your breath, afraid to miss a single sound that comes out of his mouth, “I do. I will if you allow me to. not that I can help it– I mean, even if you don’t allow it I can’t help myself. I love you. it’s not like I can just un-love you! wait, why do I need your permission anyway? it’s my feelings we’re talking about! okay, but it does concern you”, jungkook looks mortified, “but still, you don’t have to say it back. it’s great if you do but like, there’s no pressure. just don’t tell me to un-love you because that one is none of your business, oka–”

you kiss him. you kiss the living lights out of him. jungkook doesn’t even register what’s happening, he just accepts everything– the way your lips smashes against his, the way your tongue envelops his, finding you in every corner of his mouth, feeling you in every inch of his skin; a drunkard clinging onto every last drop of alcohol yet never having enough.

jungkook is literally panting when you let go of him.

 “I was crying because I am in love with you. I have been in love with you for a while now and I didn’t know how to say so”, you confess. only a few words are enough to make realization flash in his eyes. after all, he knows you. he knows you well enough to know everything, even the things he doesn’t.

“I must’ve been a saint in my past life to deserve this”, jungkook closes his eyes and rests his forehead against yours.

“I think this is your first life. you’re like the sugar in a cookie.”

“what? I thought I was the cookie!”, jungkook furrows his eyebrows, offended, “also, sugar isn’t good for you. what are you talking about?!”

you giggle in response.

“hey! take it back”, he overpowers you in a swift motion. he reels your bodies backward to hover over you, pinning your hands down on the mattress, smirking. “otherwise you’re gonna regret it.”

“regret? nah, I think I will enjoy it”, your smirk wipes off the one on his face.

“oh boy”, he sighs.

“jungkook?”

“yeah?”

“say it again”, you whisper.

“I love you.”

“again.”

“I love you.”

[littlechivalry]

Robin had gotten a lot of things from becoming platonic soulmates with Steve Harrington. Rides to school, hair care tips, unrelenting trauma, slightly bitchy dating advice that to her eternal chagrin actually worked, and entree into a weird little family that she couldn't imagine living without.

But also... Robin had to listen to sex talk.

It wasn't bad at first, she had actually gleaned a lot of advice from his stories that stood her in good stead with a few select girls. But then on the Family Video bathroom floor Steve had asked if Robin would be okay with him talking about sex with guys.

She said yes one time and now it was her life.

Steve had spent most of their shift moving tapes around the store, shuffling them into different genres based on what he thought they might be about. It was his standard 'I have something to talk about but I don't know if I can say it' behavior.

"Look," she said flatly. "I'm stopping this now. You have five minutes to sum up the problem and then I don't want to hear it anymore."

Steve put the last tape, a copy of St Elmo's Fire, into the Action-Disaster section before coming back to the counter, sharing his head. "I appreciate the thought Robbie but I don't think you're ready for this."

Robin gasped, ready to take full and dramatic umbrage when a Tasmanian Devil made of leather jacket and cheap sterling silver jewelry banged into the store.

"Babe, did you ask her," Eddie asked, grinning madly.

"Not yet," Steve whined and before Robin could gather her thought she felt two sets of eyes settle on her, one steady and concerned and the other sparkling with glee.

Robin stepped back from the counter and held her hands out in front of her. "I don't know what's going on here but no, I will not carry a baby for you two. Get Steve knocked up the old fashioned way if you want kids."

Steve brightened for a moment before pouting, "You wouldn't want to bring a little Buckley-Harrington-Munson into the world? Wow, Robs."

Eddie lunged forward, pushing past Steve to plant his hands on the counter. "We'll come back to that Buckley, but we have a different issue. We need you to be a completely impartial party."

"We really don't," Steve said. "This is not a big deal."

"I disagree," Eddie said. "I happen to think this is a very big deal."

"Well, and--," Steve said. "Isn't 'big' the problem?"

"It's not a problem for me," Eddie said, leering at Steve.

Robin stepped forward and waved her hands between the two guys, interrupting their creepy eye contact. "Okay, fine, tell me what's going on but make it snappy."

Steve hummed but didn't say anything. Eddie grinned and looked from Robin to his boyfriend and back again. He opened his mouth but before he could say anything Steve's hand was pressed half over his face.

"Eddie wants me to try sitting on his face but I'm afraid I'll, like, suffocate him to death." Steve grimaced and pulled his hand away from Eddie before rubbing it roughly on his jeans. "Gross, Eds."

Robin shook her head while they started squabbling. Steve was her best friend and Eddie was a close second. Part of being a best friend was apparently arbitrating their weird sex arguments.

The squabbling had evolved into a slap fight so Robin took the opportunity to examine them. They were the same height but Steve probably had a few pounds on Eddie. Then again Robin knew Eddie was stronger than he looked. Given the way Eddie hadn't stooped smiling since he walked in he definitely didn't seem intimidated by the idea.

Okay.

"Okay," Robin said sharply. "Knock it off. I decided."

The two boys stopped, Steve's arm locked around Eddie's neck while it looked like Eddie was trying to either give Steve a wedgie or just straight up shove his arm down Steve's acid-washed jeans.

It took a few moments for them to separate and put themselves back to rights before they were finally standing in front of her waiting for a verdict.

Robin looked from Steve to Eddie, then back again. She nodded towards Eddie before winking at her best friend. "If he dies, he dies."

"Thank you, Buckley," Eddie crowed, before turning on his heel and heading for the door.

"Where are you going," Steve called out.

Eddie turned back. "I gotta do some stretches, baby," Eddie said, rolling his neck. "I have plans." Eddie blew Steve a kiss before rubbing his hands together and walking out the door.

Robin looked at Steve, his hand still clenched in front of him where he had 'caught' the kiss, a bright red flush on his cheeks.

"I'm gonna marry that man," Steve murmured.

[inkonparchment]

Class of '95

Leon Kennedy x f!Reader

The tie rests in his pocket, feeling his throat constrict enough by the memories from a lifetime ago as Leon stands in his old high-school gymnasium. His breathing exercises carry him through the evening until his breath knocks out of him when he sees you again.

warnings/tags: older Leon. allusions to alcoholism. fluff. high school sweethearts.

word count: 3.5k

a/n: i dont know if anyone has seen '10 Years' but this heavily inspired from that especially the song 'Never Had'. that and 'From Eden by Hozier'. also i know thats infinite darkness Leon in the banner but i had more death island Leon in mind. anyways, happy reading! this may be lame but its all i have to offer

Leon is glad he decided to forgo the tie, a last-minute decision he made sitting in the shadows of his car, staring blankly at his reflection in the rear-view mirror. The silence had been too loud without the car in ignition, occupied by a sudden itch to grip the steering wheel and drive off, daunted too much by the expanse of his old high-school. He feels like a fraud returning, no longer finding any specks of the person who used to wander down the halls, sit in the classes and occupy the benches in the cafeteria, his carefree demeanour carrying him through the days. 

He could hear the muted drawl of music bleeding from the doors, the balloons and décor scattered across the entrance with a banner reading ‘Welcome Back Class of ‘95’ in greeting. God, that made him feel old, the constant ache in his back a constant reminder of the toll the years had taken on him. 

The walk in isn’t so terrible, wiping the sweat from his hand as he comes across the registration desk, a kindly looking face asking for his name. He nearly laughs at the ‘hello my name is’ sticker, the marker squeaking as he scribbles on his name and pastes it on his jacket right above his heart. 

Leon feels his fingers twitch when someone shouts his name in disbelief, turning around to blink in the face of two men who were previously occupied with their own conversation. He recognizes them in an instant, his teammates from the football team. Youthful faces drowned by wrinkles, grey sprinklings in their hair and torsos full of muscle now replaced with a softening belly; but their smiles are still the same. He walks over to them, gripping their hands firmly in handshakes, disbelief on their faces when they register that it is Leon. 

Where have you been, man? We thought you were dead! Wow, it’s been so long. 

It’s all the same set of questions and remarks he gets when he tours the gymnasium floor. Yes, he can’t believe it’s been so long. No, he’s just been busy with work so no time for a missus or kids. Ah, what about work? He doesn’t want to bore anyone with the boring mumbo jumbo. Yeah, he’s disappointed the police thing didn’t work out but what can you do? 

His words soon start to feel rehearsed, like an actor on scene waiting for his cue, a smile plastered on his face to dazzle the audience. Leon does a fine job of it, relaxing when he realizes that it’s easy with these people who are more eager to talk about their wives, husbands and kids. He feels envy grow within him as his eyes get stuck on their greying features, the softness of their added age and the glittering bands of their rings. 

It feels disorienting almost seeing his classmates living the life he had pictured for himself long ago, a life he didn’t realize he wanted so much now. Maybe there was something about coming stunningly close to death as of late, not that it wasn’t usual for him. Perhaps the one too many knocks against his head had finally straightened out his disarrayed thoughts into linearity.  

The praises that are aimed his way are quickly dismissed by Leon, shrugging all the ‘you look really fit’s and ‘your hair is in great condition, between the kids and job I don’t have the time to dye it’ like bullets clattering to the ground, puncturing him in the aftermath. He has nothing to show for his life save for the scar marks and the unhealed bullet wounds littering his body. Their voices would not carry a tone of wistfulness if they truly knew his reality. 

Leon needs a breather. And like a dog to a bone, he retreats to the bar in the corner. 

It’s mostly empty, smiling politely at the couple that walks away with their beverages. He leans against the bar, grateful for the coolness underneath his palm as he orders his drink. Whiskey on the rocks with a twist. 

Leon struggled with the concept of autonomy for the majority of his 20s and 30s, anger rippling through his system with his teeth grit whenever he would be dispatched at a moment's notice. Every reverberation of his trusty Matilda was doused in casual rage of the irony of his helplessness in deciding his fate as he ensured the normalcy of those back home. Mission success after success that Leon paid for with his freedom, his aching body and greying years, mourning the naive version of himself that saw the world with a gleaming lense. 

He accepted his fate soon enough, made peace with the life he knew he was too much of a coward to leave, courtesy of his survivor's guilt or hero complex, he doesn't know. He really doesn't want to find out. Perhaps it’s the shift in his reality, a peek into a life outside where he isn’t vital to the national or global security. It tugs at the strings of his heart when he realises there’s serenity here. This thought does little to alleviate the deep ache within his chest as he watches his old classmates. 

This is difficult for the reasons Leon never prepared himself for, bitterness flooding him as he mulls over the possibility of the life he could have had. Would he be like everyone else here? Would smiling come easy, a wedding ring on his finger and pictures of his kids ready on his phone, proudly brandishing it out on a moment’s notice? What does he have to show for himself apart from the scars and wounds that litter his body? 

The bartender slides Leon’s drink in front of him, parting with a polite smile. He stares at the amber liquid, ice floating on its surface and the itch in the back of his head that he had tried hard to bury returned. Leon grabs the glass, swirling it for good measure and brings it up to his lips. The whiskey barely grazes his lips when a familiar sounding laugh freezes him in place. His pulse flutters, a statue in poise, back turned to the crowd when the sweet noise filters through again to his ear. 

And suddenly Leon feels himself thrown back to the year 1995 on his own personal time machine, bubbling up memories that he had long forgotten, evoking emotions he thought he didn’t know how to feel anymore. The laugh is light and airy, so gentle and delicate, encompassing his entire being, intoxicating him once again like it did when he heard it for the first time during chemistry class. 

He remembers the softness of your skin when you two had accidentally bumped hands reaching for the popcorn, blushing bright in the darkened theatre before he gathered the courage to hold your hand firmly, never letting go again. 

Leon swears he can taste the butter on your lips when you had bravely kissed him on the doorstep of your home, a grin permanently latching onto his face. His ears ring with the sound of your cheers from the stands, louder than anyone, wildly waving your homemade posters for his games, always present come rain or hail.   

Leon is almost afraid to turn, not wanting to disturb the way his mind has painted you in beautiful strokes, conjuring up a picture so vivid that he feels he can touch if he reaches out. But curiosity gets the better of him, lowering the untouched drink down with a thunk and slowly turning around. Leon forgets how to breathe for a moment. Is it in, in? Out in? No, it’s in and out. He tries to catch up to missed breaths, eyes hung onto you. 

You look just as beautiful as the day he last remembers seeing you. It overwhelms him. Time clearly passed you by but not in the same way it had him; brutish, barbaric and aggressively tossing him on the hard concrete. No, time had been gentle with you, tenderly caressing you in its palm, nuzzling you softly as it swept you with it. 

Your smile is still the same Leon fell in love with, proud at having being the receiving end of it quite often, adoring the way you still throw your head back a little when you laugh. There is an air of elegance about you, evidence of the years that you had culminated, experiences under your belt that had transformed you into the person that was standing just a little distance away from him.    

Leon watches you intently as your eyes flicker over to where he’s standing, words fumbling from your lips as you jerk your head back up and do a double take. Your eyes blink furiously, widening in surprise as though you never expected to see him in a million years. You stumble off an excuse to the people you were talking to, eyes not daring to stray away from him. 

His drink is long forgotten, hands both nestled in his pockets, heart thrumming in his chest as he waits for you to make your way to him. There’s a certain peculiarity in how you do; a strange mix of shyness and disbelief. Your steps are light and airy, features softening as Leon grows more vivid in your line of sight. There’s something familiar in the way you walk to him, something akin to how he watched you descend the stairs of your house as he had waited at the bottom, staring at you in awe with a corsage gripped tight in his hands. Even in the picture your mom had snapped, Leon was still looking at you.  

Warmth floods him when you come to a stop in front of him, glee on both his and Leon’s face, hidden beneath timidness. He takes the first leap.  

“Hey,” Leon smiles. 

You laugh and it is oh so sweet, stronger than a shot of espresso. “Hi.” You tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.  

What do you say anyways to the most important person in your youth who you thought would be a constant? The breakup had been difficult but inevitable with the two very different paths you and Leon had picked out for yourselves. It was terribly heart aching with fingers gripping each other’s tightly, silent tears running down your face as you tried to inscribe every forehead kiss from Leon to memory with the sun setting in the far-off distance. Come morning he would be long gone, both of you deciding that it would be unbearable to start a new day without the sun shining on them both.  

What do you say after all these years have passed shaping you into different versions of the same person you once knew so long ago?  

“It’s really good to see you Leon.” Well you could say that for starters. 

A small puff of air leaves Leon’s throat, glancing down at the floor momentarily before looking back into your eager eyes. His heart clenches as he notices they still glow. “It’s good to see you too.” An understatement truly, it’s magical to see you again. He thought he never would again, his mind drifting to you in his moments of darkness, clinging on to the memories as they would rejuvenate him. His sentiment is a lot more loaded than yours, he realises, his guardian angel now materialised in front of his eyes.  

You flit about, mess with your hair, pull it behind your ears, trying to look at him whole with little glances. “I uh...I thought you didn’t attend these things.”  

“I didn’t know there were these things to attend,” He shrugged. Its true, it’s quite hard to reach him when none of his old contact numbers or emails work. Leon’s a hard man to reach. It was a surprise to him when Hunnigan had all but slammed the plane ticket and the print out of his old high-school reunion on his desk. He didn’t even bother asking how she got the information, feeling scrutinised under her hard gaze and her You need a break too, Leon. He’ll buy her favourite bottle of wine first thing back.  

“Well you know it is hard to reach you.” You tilt your head to the side, teasing glinting in your eyes. “No phone number, no address, no email either. Its almost like you vanished off the face of the earth.” 

Leon feels the tips of his ears grow hot, suddenly feeling a bit ashamed. You continue on with a casual shrug of your shoulders, “Every text or email I sent you bounced back so I just thought you didn’t want to catch up.”  

That turns him into a statue. What? “You tried to contact me?”  

A streak of blush colours your cheeks. “I mean not that frequently. Just like a couple of years back I guess? I don’t know I just did it on a whim. The text didn’t go through and neither did the email so...you know I thought you didn’t want to be contacted.” 

He didn’t know what to do with the information that you thought of him while he thought of you. He never imagined that you would actually try to reach out to him, why would you? Leon assumed you’d be well settled in your life now; husband, kids, the white picket fence. Isn’t that what the two of you would fantasise about, sharing whispered giggles huddled under the sheets?  

But there’s curiosity gnawing at his bones. He’s noticed the empty ring finger on your left hand about how you’ve spent ten minutes chatting with him here and no man has slipped his hand against your waist. You’re here, talking to him, in no rush to meet anyone else. Leon feels his fingers twitch, he would never let you out of his sight. 

He blinks, an easy smile settling on his lips, gazing at you softly at your confession. “I thought about you a lot too.” He wants to thread his fingers through your hair, tucking away the strands. “I’m sorry I went so far away.”  

You shudder, pursing your lips and looking away. You see to be shrugging your shoulders again. Cute. “It’s fine. Life gets in the way sometimes. I’m just glad you’re okay.” 

The music doesn’t bother Leon anymore. He likes it, foot tapping with the beat, letting the soft tune wash over him. The silence is nice albeit heavy, he imagines there’s a barrage of questions on the tip of your tongue. A gentle giggle pulls his attention to you, “What?” 

“Nothing. Its just,” You shake your head, “I don’t know if I should be concerned or not over how little the gymnasium has changed since we went here.”  

“Oh,” His eyes sweep the entire place, amused at your remark. “You’re right. I don’t imagine they’ve been very enthusiastic about interior decoration .”  

“They really have not,” You marvel. You seem to get lost in your thoughts, pulling your back straighter. “You think they changed the bleachers outside in the field?”  

Leon locks eyes with you, unrelenting stare as he grapples with the meaning behind your words. He spent a lot of time with you on them; shyly running to you after practice, talking with you there for hours, glancing at you cheering him on during games, the summer day you two had spent there laughing and kissing before Leon had scratched the two of yours initial on its surface, sweetly outlining it with a heart. It’s not cheesy sweetheart if you’re blushing into my neck this hard.  

Leon quirks his eyebrow, matching your smile. “Let’s find out.”  

The night is cool with clear skies and a soft breeze blowing through. Leon feels ridiculous, not in the stupid sense but in the makes-him-feel-young sense. Your hand is wrapped in his instinctively, your soft palm resting against his with a practiced ease as he tugs you along with him towards the football field. The music thrums away into the background until there’s only the sound of your shared footsteps and your soft laughs echoing in the air. He can’t help but glance at you time and again, marvelling at the soft wrinkles dusting the corner of your eyes.  

He doesn’t like it when he has to let your hand go, standing between the stands as the two of you  unspokenly begin the search for the same heart shaped mark left years ago in the dim light. 

“So uh,” You say standing a little above from him in the bleachers, attention focused on the seats as you try to sound casual, “Did you come alone?”  

“Yeah,” He’s quick to reply. “My pet goldfish gets really motion sick on planes.” He pretends to search for a while. “You?”  

You hum in reply. “I don’t think ex-husbands are too big on attending their ex-wife’s high-school reunion.”  

Leon turns towards you to see you staring at him already, fiddling with your ring-less finger. “Dead?” 

“Divorced.” 

“When?” 

“Few years ago.”  

“Why?” 

“He got his secretary pregnant.”  

Leon blinks, scoffing and surprised at the spark of anger that ignites in him. “What an absolute piece of shit.”  

You laugh. “Yeah.”  

The two of you go back to searching, a lightness on your shoulders now. He relaxes too, the stiffness disappearing from his back. “I thought a lot about you. Thought you’d have your white picket fence house by now. It’s...why I never reached out to you.”  

You bite your lip, smiling at the memory. “It’s okay Leon, really. The white picket fence seems like a lifetime ago now. Seems a bit silly honestly.”  

“It’s not what you want?”  

“I don’t know. A lot’s changed since we last spoke. I’ve learnt it’s better to let things happen as they are.”  

“Not taking chances anymore?”  

You look up at him, a sweet smile as you share a knowing look. “No, I’m taking them as they present themselves.”  

Leon’s stomach does that flipping motion again, sweat collecting on the back of his neck. He mentally notes to buy Hunnigan the snack she likes so much too. They resume their search, beckoning the other to their spot as they find something funny or worthy to see. It’s fun, his worries melting away as he laughs away the night with you. But that heart is nowhere to be found, tired of squinting.  

“Ugh, this low lighting isn’t really helping,” You sigh, trailing back to where he’s stood.  

“Maybe some extra help then.” He pats the front of his jacket, digging into his inner pocket and then brandishing out his flip phone nonchalantly. You stare at it for a second, watch him as he flips it open and then burst into laughter.  

“What?” He asks in disbelief, watching you wheeze with amusement. 

“Wow,” You manage to choke out, “Well no wonder its so hard to reach you. Does your phone even have an email app?”  

“It works fine for me,” He grumbles, hoping you can’t see how scarlet he is under the night sky.  

“No, no,” You grin at him, pinching his cheeks. “It’s cute.”  

Leon almost jumps at your fingers connecting with his cheek, inadvertently leaning into your touch. You still, realisation hitting you of what you’re doing. But you don’t stop. Your fingers splay out, hesitantly cupping the side of his face. Leon watches you carefully, trying his best to control his breathing. You shudder as the bottom of your hand grazes against his stubble, thumb slowly caressing against his skin. Leon shuts his eyes under your soft touch, a sigh leaving his lips. 

He holds your wrist, keeping your hand against his cheek, bringing you close to him by your waist. His eyes don’t stray from yours, keeping you in place. Your eyes glaze over, a sheen in them as they collect water.  

“Hi.” You whisper.  

“Hey, sweetheart.” He whispers back. 

“You look old,” You laugh, the sound mixing with a sob. 

“So do you.” He hums back, fondly brushing your hair back from your face.  

You bury your face in his chest, breathing him in. “Where were you? I waited for you for so long.”  

He pulls back to see you properly, tilting  your face up by a hand under your chin. He leans in, lips brushing over yours. You push yourself up on your toes, lips connecting with his. You feel so impossibly warm against him, lips slotting against his seamlessly. He breathes you in, tastes you deeply, gripping you against his body like he never plans on letting you go. You gasp against his lips as he steals your breath and noises.  

He pulls away just an inch, nuzzling his nose into your cheek, not daring to loosen his hold on you. “Not going anywhere now, sweetheart.” 

[silhouetteonpaper]

Late

Summary: Wanda was supposed to come back from her mission hours ago. She was never this late, and you were beside yourself with worry. When she finally shows up, something completely unexpected is waiting for you... Wanda Maximoff x Reader WC: 961 Warnings/Themes: fluffy! A/N: Because of everything going on, I thought a cute lil fluffy fic was in order. Enjoy, I love you all, please take care of yourselves! <3

The phone rung 6 times, each trill sending another wave of anxiety through you as you waited for the person on the other end to pick up. Voicemail. The woman’s voice instructing you to leave a message quickly silenced as you hung up. You’d called Wanda five times, texted her seven, and even paged her work device. There was no response.

She had told you she’d return from her mission this morning, but the sun was now setting and your worry was increasing. It was unlike her to get back from a mission this late, at least without prior warning. You would usually receive a ‘running behind’ message or a quick phone call alerting you when she would be back. But this time, twelve hours had passed with no communication.

You didn’t usually worry a whole lot when Wanda was on regular missions, because the team was usually by her side. This time was different, though. She had to go solo, leaving you extremely on edge at the idea of her not having backup. Wanda was more than capable of handling herself, but you knew the dangers of not having agents around when things went south.

Not to mention, she had already been gone for a week—you missed her dearly. After having been together for over a year, you had gotten used to having her around with the occasional mission here and there. This one was extra long, forcing the suspense of her solo excursion to only build as you waited.

In your impatient and concerned state, you turned to the nearest team member at the compound to pester about any details concerning your girlfriend. “Tony,” you strolled into the kitchen, your victim occupied with making an evening cup of coffee. “Any updates on Wanda?” It wasn’t the first time you asked him about her mission today, and he had the same answer as before.

“Nothing yet, but I promise you’ll be the first to know.” He shrugged, his lack of concern almost infuriating. Why weren’t they doing everything possible to make sure she was alright? Why hadn’t they sent in a team of agents for backup already? You sighed out of frustration, leaning over the counter as you felt your heartbeat race.

Tony abandoned stirring his coffee to glance at his phone, a single notification buzzing on the marbled counter. He glanced at you, quickly typing something out; you were too caught up in your anxiety to notice. “Actually,” He started, your head popping up. “Wanda should be arriving out front any minute.” You released a deep breath out of relief, but not all worry was lost. Was she injured? Would she be in terrible shape? Tony could see your increasing concern, so he offered you a new option. “You can go wait for her on the tarmac.”

You offered him a quick smile before running down the halls of the compound, through corridors and rooms all the way out to the front of the building. The cool night air soothed your irregulated temperature, each soft gust of wind aiding you in taking another breath. But instead of seeing a jet landing on the tarmac, something completely different was spread in the grass right in front of you.

Wanda—unharmed and content, was sitting on a blanket with candles filling the center; scattered among them was a bottle of wine and some baked goods. You froze, watching her grin form as she stood. “Hey,” She sounded so calm in comparison to your freak out only a moment ago. “I’m sorry about all of that… I didn’t want to ruin the surprise.”

You met her gaze, eyes wide with disbelief. Instead of getting mad, making her feel even worse for how much she made you worry, you jumped into her arms. You didn’t care if she ignored your texts and calls all day, you were just happy to see her. Wanda chuckled, wrapping her arms around you tightly in the excitement. You could finally take a real deep breath, fully relieved now that you were in Wanda’s arms.

Pulling away, she watched as you admired the picnic she worked diligently to set up. “How did you…? When did you get back?” You questioned, unsure how she pulled this off. Her eyes wandered as she evaded admitting her plan.

“I got back late, I really did,” She placed her hands on your hips, keeping you close. “I felt bad and wanted to set up something special. But I knew it would be hard to surprise you once you saw I was home.” Wanda’s explanation made sense, it was sweet really. You didn’t mind that she wanted to surprise you, you were only worried something went wrong.

“Wait,” You suddenly remembered your interactions with the team throughout the day, how they brushed off your questioning like it was nothing. “Was everyone in on it?” Wanda smirked, nodding as she admitted guilt. Of course everyone was in on it, they’d never be so relaxed about a stranded agent. If only your anxiety hadn’t clouded your judgement, maybe you would have been able to pick up on their sneaky planning.

“You were worried sick, weren’t you?” Wanda cooed, moving her hand toward your cheek. You chuckled, pulling her in for another hug.

“If only you were here to see. I’m just glad you’re here now.” You stated, letting her guide you onto the blanket. She had prepared a large spread of delicious looking treats, from the brownies to the cupcakes to the array of chocolates. You dug in, occasionally glancing up at Wanda to exchange a smile or even a kiss. Under the deep blue blanket full of stars, you were happy to be back home with Wanda in the comfort of her arms.

[pinkaditty]

Who's Passing NNN? Tokyo Debunker Pt 3

cliche yeaaa i know we've already discussed this... let me have this...

a/n: no post last night bc last night was U.S. election night. in no uncertain terms i've been going through emotional turmoil as a disabled queer african american living in this hellhole. idk man. im holding out hope that ill make it through the next four years. in the meantime! enjoy this! quick disclaimer that i write these under the assumption the tokyo debunker boys are at least 18 years old. they appear to be present at a university considering there are professors and a chancellor. not to mention the boys drink, smoke, gamble, and refer to themselves as adults.

summary: part 3 of the "Who's Passing NNN?" tokyo debunker thing. for fun id like u 2 guess before u open the rest of the post and comment what u thought. itd be funny 2 me. cw: men jacking off!!!!!!!! MINORS DNI AS USUAL!!!! these things r never proofread i literally spit them out and they're good 2 go.

Frostheim || Vagastrom || Jabberwock || Sinostra || Hotarubi || Obscuary || Mortkranken

(nearly done with sinostra n hotarubi is otw!)

Please respect my boundary. Thank you!

Jabberwock:

Haru Sagara: Fail

Lovingly, he fails. He does not even try for long. He tries a little bit, but the second he gets the itch, it’s all over… If, he can finish his chores first, at least. 

It's a long walk back to Jabberwock from Obscuary. Not that Haru minds, it's just a long walk. It’s dark out, nearly 1am. It wasn’t like him to be out too terribly late, but he trusted Towa had a handle on things, and he was content to relax for a while. The waning crescent moon and sidewalk lamplights illuminate his way home. The stiff, still, crisp and cool night air felt strange against his warm cheeks and neck. He sighs, and his breath is visible in the air, signifying how cold it was.

Usually he’d be speeding home, but he’d drank far too much to be able to do that. The anomalous drinks still left a cloudy, pleasant feeling in his head, though he was still able to walk fine without any stumbling. There was a problem, though. A slight stirring in his abdomen that just wouldn’t go away. It started long before his drinking though, mid-chores. He’d been easily able to tamp if down then, a swath of chores taking up his time and distractions from his dormmates serving him well. But now, he was drunk. His defenses against such sensations has lowered drastically. Each gentle twitch at his pelvic floor sent a surge of feeling through him, to which he’d visibly stiffen and bite his tongue to prevent any damning noises. He could feel his body stir with more heat than before, the warmth snaking down his spine, creeping to the rest of his body, very quickly reaching his already half-hard cock. The walk became pure torture, each stride beginning to feel like a gentle stroke against his hardening length. The building pleasure goes straight to his brain, and he has to stop his stride, panting, supporting himself with his hands on his knees. He feels himself flush at the sight of his cock pressing hard into his pant leg. He straightens his posture and continues on, worrying his lip between his teeth until they turn red.

It’s a long walk back to Jabberwock from Obscuary. He picks up the pace.

Towa Otonashi: Pass

He tries and gets through! He’s mostly obsessed with romance anyway. Physical intimacy typically takes a backseat. Does that mean he doesn’t want romance to blossom into physical intimacy? No, of course not. If anything, he values the buildup.

It’s late, and no classes tomorrow. Towa’s taken up the liberty of watching a movie in his room, one known for being particularly cheesy, with romance bursting at the seams of it. He’s enjoying himself, leaning forward on the bed as he hungrily watches each scene, drinking in the classic love-at-first-sight trope, waiting eagerly for the miraculous buildup.

As expected, the buildup arrives, and the two main characters finally confess to one another. He sighs happily as the characters kiss, leaning back and propping himself up with his hands, ready for the credits to roll. He is surprised, however, when the scene continues to escalate past just kissing. He waits for it to stop, simultaneously mystified and mesmerized, his eyes glued to the screen as the characters move from kissing to groping to undressing. His heart rises to his throat. His breathing picks up and his face becomes flushed. He still doesn’t stop watching, even as he feels his cock stir in response to the scene. He continues watching with baited breath as the scene continues to escalate further. Undressing turns to nude groping and nude groping elicits intense noises from the screen. He feels his cock harden further, and feels himself hesitantly reaching for it, his gaze flicking between the sex scene and his aching cock trapped in his uniform slacks. Before he knows it, he’s covering his mouth with one hand and rubbing his cock at a furious pace, in tandem with the gentle plap plap plap sounds coming from the screen. The sex is so passionate, so romantic, and he finds himself wishing for something similar. It is when the couple’s lips meet at the climax that he climaxes, spilling himself between his fingers and onto the plush sheets of his bed. He trembles, blinking blearily as he surveys his mess, and watching as the couple embrace one another, the love between them palpable. 

Ren Shiranami: Fail

He didn’t try and he wasn’t going to. I mean come on now! This is Ren we’re talking about. He is not holding his own… Not unless it’s ramen or video games, that is.

His sweaty hair sticks to his even sweatier forehead. His eyes are wide and glued to his PC screen. His posture is hunched, his teeth are grinding, and his legs are taut. He cannot lose this game. He continues to repeat that in his head, desperately trying to focus his attention to the buttons underneath his fingers rather than the burning need his stiffened length presented. He cannot lose this game. He cannot lose this game. He cannot lose this game. The second stage of the battle was not going to catch him off-guard this time. Not this time. 

He leans towards the screen, steeling himself after defeating the first-form boss. His cock continues to press eagerly against his sweatpants as though begging for attention, but he willed himself to ignore it, even as the hem of his underwear brushing along his tip threatened to make him lose his composure. 

Finally, the next scene starts. He’s ready, dodging as many attacks as he can and dealing as much damage as possible. At long last, he’s so close, just a few blows away from victory. He’s so close. He feels his cock jump in response to those thoughts, and the fleeting thought of being close to bursting flashes across his mind before he shakes his head harshly and returns to his game. His cock jumps again just as he lands a blow, his tip once again pressing into the hem of his underwear. He cannot continue while ignoring the insistent press. He growls, displeased, and reaches down for a quick readjustment, his hands only leaving the buttons for a moment. Once adjusted, he suppresses a gasp at the feeling and returns his hands to the buttons. Too late. The boss took advantage of his momentary stillness and sliced him in half, prompting the “GAME OVER” screen. 

Ren angrily shoves the controller away from him and buries his head in his hands, peeking down at his twitching cock forming a tent in his sweatpants. 

a/n: i love fictional men suffering!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i imagined ren playing elden ring 4 reference (specifically battling malenia) but ur free 2 imagine whatever lol!

note that, as always, i enjoy likes, comments, and reblogs!! please tell me how much you enjoyed my work! it really means a lot!

ALSO WOOOOO HIT 500 FOLLOWERS! if ur reading this, slide in2 my asks with a prompt idea (please don't expect a response!). i want 2 write some juicy porn with whoever comes 2 mind.

final note that i purposely extended haru's part bc @/aayakashii was looking forward 2 it and i thought her tags were so funny lmfao

[echantedtoon]

A Lovers' Circle (Poly Haishira x Reader) Ch15 Setting Hearts A Blaze

(There'll be a small time skip as things will be repetitive until we cut over to the Rengoku household.Plus a funny meme I made for fun.)

Taglist: @shadyd3ar @jcrml

@tengensangel @miniverse-zen @mysteri0uz @jjamsbangtan

@the-unknown-fandom

@lavenderdropp @mimisweetz. @purplesoulsapphire

@kksmush @denkpanda18 @whomisi @lessthanimperfect @silver-rin

@rotting-alone @namis-noodlebox

@k1ttyluverz @akiramente

@rascalraccoon @ravenclawkae1

@gilded-sunrays @crescent-blades

Remember if you want to be added to the taglist lemme know

The sounds of traffic and wheels on the road was all that filled the early morning air as you stifled a yawn threatening to leak out of your mouth. It was rather early but you promised to drive your Aunt to the airport the day after Halloween. You hadn't gotten much sleep the night prior staying late at the party and spending a lot of time removing glittery make up on your skin. On top of that you were going to be a little late for work because of said trip you had to take.

"Thank you so much for dropping me off, Hun. These late night readings are killing my posture," your aunt said stretching out an arm. "Now I know why women my age get grey hairs! HAHA!"

You rolled your eyes at her joke before slowly coming to a stop at a stop sign. A giant suitcase was behind her in the passenger seat and you were ninety nine percent sure it was mostly packed up with fliers and other business promotional things. Not something you thought would be taken to a wedding but then again you  were talking about your aunt here. Nothing she did ever made sense.

"It's not a problem. And I did promise I would." Turning on your turn signal, you turned left going on down the road where you could make out the airport just a little bit aways. "When are you coming back?"

She waved a hand. "Two or three days from now. I'll call a taxi when I get back don't worry. I just appreciate you being nice enough to take me." She then smiled at you before reaching out to ruffle your hair like a kid. "You're a good kid. Now I can see why that big teddy bear likes you so much!"

"Not while I'm driving," you waved her hand off but smiled. "But I guess so. I feel so lucky to have him after everything that happened. It was like life finally decided to stop making me it's punching bag ....At least when it comes to dating."

The older woman smiled more. "He's a good one. I predicted a happy healthy like for you two."

"You mean when you read his palm without asking him first?"

She shrugged. "He didn't mind and everything I saw was predicable anyhoo- You still haven't let me read yours."

"Because I don't believe in those things no offense. Besides the last time you read my palm, you said I would 'be so beautiful many men and women will fall for me'." You rolled your eyes again putting on your turn signal again before slowly turning into the air port's parking lot. "And that was five years ago get it still hasn't happened."

"Give it time! My foresights always come true sooner or later." She smiled despite you sighing in response. "WHELP! Looks like I've got a date with the skies! See you in a few days!" She had just grabbed onto the car and was about to open it and step out-

"Wait!" In question she turned back around with a raised brow at you as you started patting down your clothes and frantically digging around in your pockets until you eventually pulled out something. Well a lot of somethings. "I need your help with something."

"Oh?" What she thought was a deck of cards, was actually..a deck of cards but not the playing card variety. It seemed to be a stack of business cards that was held up to her.

"There's someone who's loosing business really badly. He runs a dojo somewhere around here and I feel like I want to help him. I know you're pretty good at networking and know everyone there is..Do you think you can help?"

The softer eyes of the older woman eyed you in interest before glancing at the business cards. Taking them with a hum and eyeing the words inked onto their flimsy cardboard bodies... Before she smiled. 

"I think I can do something with these. I'm surprised you want to help a stranger so badly."

You shrugged. "I don't know why I want to...it just feels like the right thing to do. Plus he's one of Gyomei's friends. It might be good to try and get along with them."

Your aunt hummed again and you flinched as she suddenly grabbed your hand. Looking at the palm very closely and her brows rising in some kind of realization. "Interesting."

"What is?"

"Oh, nothing.~" She giggled dropping your hand and waving you off. "Don't worry about a thing honey. Just leave everything to me. By the end of this month, everyone is gonna flock to ya!"

Your face turned to confusion. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh you'll find out soon enough. Oh. Look at the time! I better go before I miss my flight. You better get going before you're late too."

You hadn't the foggiest idea of what your eccentric aunt was talking about but shrugged it off as her being eccentric again. With he out of your car, you just made the long drive back home and to the college where you were unsurprisingly late and trudged yourself into the daycare tired and sore. Hopefully the children behaved especially good today so you wouldn't have to worry about anything else other than being scolded by your boss. 

"You look sleepy, Ms. Y/n," one little girl pointed out as soon as you slowly walked into the large playroom trying to tie your apron in the back.

....Yeah. Today might be a very long day for you. 

Unluckily the comment made by the little girl, whom you gently shooed to go listen to a story someone else was reading to other kids, was not missed by your boyfriend who looked up from where he was wiping glitter glue off a toy someone dropped on top of the arts and crafts table. You couldn't help the tired sigh that escaped you as Gyomei was quick to walk on over and you felt his form practically loom over you as his head tilted.

"You're tired." It wasn't a question, it was a statement that you winced at. 

"A little bit."

"I thought I asked you to stay home if you didn't get enough sleep."

You waved him off despite the fact that he obviously couldn't see you. "I'm not gonna pass out. I'm just a little bit tired, and I have things to do today."

"Such as?"

Working? Getting today's notes from Giyuu, the project you have with him, and you promised to bake a few things for everyone.  Not to mention grocery shopping, bills, cleaning up your house-

You jumped as a large hand suddenly tilted your head back up towards the staring white eyes. "None of that." He spoke as if he could literally read your mind. "After work I want you to go right home and rest. I'll inform Shinobu and Tomioka you won't be able to make the appointment today."

"W-What? But I promised them I'd do it with them not to mention that I also-"

A warmth presses against your head making you instantly turn red and a few little kids gagged and closed their eyes at the sight. One pointed at you both with a disgusted face.

"Ew, Mr. Mei! That's cooties!," she accused him to which he chuckled at her and smiled 

"Perhaps so. But I meant what I said." You were wide awake now as he patted the top of your head. "Go home and rest. If you don't I'll just take your keys and carry you home myself."

"Yo-Yo-You're bluffing!"

He hummed. "Am I?"

You decided against wanting to see if he'd actually do that and quickly scurried away when one of the younger toddlers cried out in frustration at his building blocks falling over again and again. His chubby little hands and waddle walk keeping knocking over the blocks he did stack up again and again. You'd have to console him and played with the little guy to make sure he was having a good time. 

Things weren't really too much different for the rest of the day. You did your job and helped to start clean up and check out the kids as their parents started arriving. However you didn't see Sanemi turn up. It wasn't even Kanae. Or Giyuu or Shinobu or even Mitsuri whom you were pretty good friends with by now. Instead you were treated to the sight of a tall and visibly muscular man whom walked in through the doorway. Orange hair framing his brightly smiling face and just as fiery eyes blinking around until they settled on you.

With a beaming smile he walked right up to you and you blinked as he stood before you. "HELLO, Y/N!!"

You winced at the high volume but still smiled. "Hi, Kyojuro." You greeted the positive man. "What are you doing here?"

"I've been sent to fetch Koto!," he proclaimed hands on his hips, "Sanemi's running late with his tutoring classes so he asked me to come get Koto for him!"

You blinked. "Really? I don't remember Sanemi telling me this and it's policy to call ahead of time for alternate pick ups."

His head tilted like an owl. "Really? He told the front desk lady this morning."

Oh right. You weren't here that morning. You held up a hand. "Let me go ask real quick. No offense. It's just part of the job."

"NO OFFENSE TAKEN!!"

You still chuckled despite yourself and left for just a few minutes. Confirmed with a coworker who was there that morning. And then returned a moment later with Koto on your hip and his daycare bag Sanemi always dropped off with him slung over your shoulder. The toddler was fiddling with a little car but let out a happy gasp upon seeing the red haired man.

"Ren-Ren!," he cheered throwing up his hands excitedly, "Hi!"

"Hello, Koto!" He greeted holding out his arms to the toddler. "Did you have a fun day?"

Koto was happily accepted into his arms with a nod. "Uh huh! Miss Toji reads us Beauty n da beast."

"Ooh. A fun story."

"Where's Nemi?"

"He's late, but I'm gonna take you to the park while we wait."

"YAY!!"

You chuckled at the adorable sight of him holding  up the bag. "Here. You'll be needing this. How's Mrs. Shinazugawa by the way?"

"Thank you!" The bag was taken away from you before he again tilted his head in question. Like he seemed to be studying you for a second. "She is doing better. Still a little stressed about paying back everything, but eventually she will and everything will go back to normal for everyone involved. However I believe that you had a hand in her soon to be relief."

You blinked at him. "Oh. You mean the money." He nodded and you hummed. "Well like I told everyone else, he just needed it more than me."

"A thousand dollars and free food for an entire year are a hard thing to give up for most people..and yet you have it all away to a at the time complete stranger."

You winced. "That's not totally true. I-..I didn't really think about giving it to him at first. Really I didn't think of anyone else but myself at first but-.."

"But?," he asked raising a brow in question as you sighed.

"I dunno. I didn't really have a mom growing up so-"...You looked down fingers drumming on the countertop. "So I guess seeing him trying so hard to help his mom made me feel really sorry for him. Maybe it's something I'd wanna do too if my mom was around y'know..Uh.." You stopped when you saw him intently staring at you Koto mindlessly toying with his toy. "Uh. S-Sorry. Didn't mean to ramble on."

"Please. Do not apologize for the honesty. It's rare for someone to have an honest heart and even rather for them to admit things we may not be proud up." His smile got even wider if that was possible. "I can now see why you were able to make such great friends with everyone. You're a good person!"

Despite yourself a small pink appeared on your face, hand waving at him. "Shucks. Stop it. You're embarrassing me. Oh. That reminds me. How's your dad doing? Anything change?"

He shook his head. "Not yet but a few of Senjuro's classmates have shown interest in the dojo! We just have to remain optimistic and keep working at it!"

Ah. So your aunt hadn't worked her magic yet. Makes sense. It hasn't even been a whole day yet...Eh. you really shouldn't expect results to just happen like that. It was as unrealistic as her predicting that men and women would fall for you like some badly written fantasy story.

You nodded. "We gotta look on the bright side of things for sure! Anyways it was nice to see you again, Kyojuro. I hope to see you again sometime."

"INDEED! And thank you again for those delicious cookies! Everyone loved them!"

"Cookies?"

"Not for you I'm afraid!" In one movement the energetic man turned on his heel towards the door. "Now come! The swing sets and slides await us!"

"Yay! Swings!"

You couldn't help but laugh at the goofy man as he left with the giggling child. He certainly was a bright fellow. Everything would be ok. You were sure of that. Even if your efforts did nothing, surely the Rengoku's would be able to get by well.

Days passed by. 

The October fall being kissed goodbye slowly as the leaves still fell and gave way to that weird time of the months of November where the cool of fall was merging with the soon to be cold of winter and snow. Jackets, scarfs, and mittens were already being seen on so many walking around. 

It was on one of these days that a slow miracle was creeping up to its unsuspecting gift-y. Not quite a Christmas miracle but it'll do in a pinch for what was to be taken place that evening. A hot bowl of soup and a little bit of rice was always a quick and nice meal for a cold night like this. The kind of meal that'd help to cheer him up and reminded him just how much he loved his wife's cooking when the tray was placed in front of him and a warm kiss was pressed to his lips for a second.

Smiles were always his favorite part of her. Couldn't get enough of it as she smiled at him. "Here. I made some miso soup today. It ought to help you warm up after all the work you did."

Hard work? If you can call cleaning a barely used dojo and moping around all day hard work. He would've laughed at himself if he hadn't felt so frustrated with himself right now. Instead he kept quiet and pulled the bowl closer to him muttering a barely audible thanks. Her smile slowly gave way to a sad frown before she sighed and turned away. Slowly allowing herself to start preparing her own meal and a second tray for her youngest boy. She'd take him a meal as he was busy studying for a few exams before the Christmas break. 

The scooping of hot soup sloshing around in the pot was only paused when the distant sounds of a familiar beeping noise cascaded through the air. Catching her attention and only making her husband grunt again.

"Are you going to answer that?"

She didn't answer him. Letting the ladle spoon plop back down into the soul with a watery noise and quickly making her way towards the den where no doubt the home phone was ringing out for someone to answer it. It was not too long before the cold plastic was picked up from the receiver and help up to her ear. 

"Yes?"...Red eyes blinked. "Oh? I wasn't expecting a call from you. Is everything alright?" Her head turned around back towards the man still lazily picking at his soul with a spoon and not eating it. "Yes....Alright then."

Pitiful eyes didn't look up from the sloshing liquid of the soup even as footsteps approached back softly or even when he saw a pair of legs stop at his side out of the corner of his eyes. But he did blink as something was held out to his face. Took him two seconds to realize that it was a phone, and it took him one more second to look back up to his wife in question.

"Dear, it's Mr. Ubuyashiki."

A blink. "Who?"

"He's the chairman of Senjuro's school." The phone was nudged closer to him. "He wants to talk to you."

What? He grunted looking annoyed. "So? What does he want? If Senjuro's done something then-"

"Dear, please just speak to him."

There was a small three second pause before with an annoyed look the phone was taken from her and reluctantly held up to his ear. "Yes?"

"Ah! A different voice!" The voice of the phone was a man's. Clearly one he's never heard before. "Am I to assume that this is the husband of my wonderful calligraphy teacher?"

"What do you want?" He wasn't in the mood for the cheery bull that this voice seemed to have.

"Straight to the point then I see! Then I won't beat around the bush." The voice chuckled but gained a more professional feeling with it. "I heard that you are quite a coach!"

...Another blink. "What?"

"Recently I attended a little celebration of a good friend's son. Your name happened to be on a little business card handed out to me and I was reminded of your son. Polite young man he is."

"What is the point to this? Either spit it out or I'll hang up!" He REALLY was not in the mood to be talking to a man that liked to make random small chit chat even with the stern frown his wife was giving him.

"Of course," the man remained polite and patient despite his annoyance. "It reminded me of the petition Senjuro presented to me a little bit ago to start a kendo club. Usually I wouldn't mind clubs but one of our biggest school sponsors thought it would be a great idea to have an official kendo league added to our school. Frankly I couldn't agree more."

Huh. So his youngest finally did something worthwhile huh?...Guess that was good for him but-

"What does that have to do with me?"

"Well naturally if we're to add kendo to our track and other sports teams we'll be in need of a coach to teach said sport." He completely froze at his words. "But unfortunately we have none."

The world seemed to slow down as the silence continued to stare off at nothing. His throat suddenly felt dry as he swallowed thickly in order to not let his neck to become a desert. "What..are you getting at?"

"Mr. Shinjuro I've heard quite a good deal about you from your wife and others. I'd love to hire you as one of our new sports coaches starting next semester! And have you coach our new established kendo team if that's an option for you."

CLINK. CLI-CLINK.

Ruka blinked as the spoon dropped from her husband's hand and clattered to the table flinging small droplets of miso soup around the oak wood surface. Her brow rose higher at the wide eyed stare he seemed to have. Like he just saw a ghost.

"Honey? Are you ok?"

[hwamphwamp]

~11:39pm

warning(s): mentions of being high and the side effects of being high, a suggestive line or two if you squint

In hindsight, expecting Wooyoung to follow instructions was your first mistake.

At least that’s what Hongjoong said when you called him, desperate for advice.

“Just be there for him until he comes down from the high,” Hongjoong said, his voice muffled by the sounds of the party he’d stepped out of to take your call. You waited, hoping he’d have more to offer than just that.

“Joong, he thought he was sinking into the mattress for half an hour, and now he’s freaking out because he has a case of cottonmouth that’s— in his words—‘so extreme he can’t breathe.’ What do I do?”

“Give him a gallon of water and some cuddles or something. He’ll be knocked out in no time,” he replied, unfiltered as always. “Listen, my set’s starting soon, so I have to go. If he gets worse, take him to the hospital or something. He’s got good insurance.”

With that, the call ended, leaving you just as helpless as before. You knew that later on, when both of you were much less high, you’d realize everything had been perfectly fine. Sure, Wooyoung had taken twenty milligrams for his first high instead of the five he’d been told to take, which was a bit much, but he’d be okay by morning. Right now though, in your current state of mild panic, it felt like him experiencing one more side effect would send you spiraling.

“Baby?”

You turned towards the balcony door to see Wooyoung peeking out, a small frown on his face as he shuffled over to you.

“What happened to our cuddle session?” he asked, throwing his arms around you and lifting you just enough to carry you back inside. “I waited for an hour, and you weren’t back. I was starting to get worried.”

“First of all, it’s only been ten minutes at most,” you corrected, wriggling free from his arms once you reached your bedroom. “Second, when I tried to cuddle you, you thought our combined weights would make us sink into the mattress faster.”

“Oh… Wait, I’m the one who stopped the cuddle session? That doesn’t even sound right, so I kinda have to assume you’re lying.”

“I’m not—”

You caught yourself, deciding there was no use. Wooyoung was too stubborn while sober to admit he’d ever stop any affection with you—better yet while high and you were picking and choosing your battles tonight.

“Yeah, you’re right. That does sound crazy, Woo,” you replied, watching him as he made his way over to your vanity.

“By the way,” he started, motioning for you to join him, “I drank the rest of the bottled water in your stash under the bed. But more importantly, I was looking at your makeup.”

“That water was supposed to last me until next week—”

“Again, more importantly, I was looking at your makeup and thought it would be fun if you did my makeup.”

You opened your mouth to speak, then shut it again, taken aback by his request. It wasn’t surprising he wanted to look pretty no matter his state of mind, but still, it was random considering the last thing he’d said before you went outside to call his best friend was how he didn’t feel real and thought the person running his “simulation” hated him.

“You want me to do your makeup?”

“Yes.”

“At almost midnight?”

“Also yes.”

“Is it because you want your makeup done or because you want to hold me without feeling like you’re sinking into the abyss?”

“Both.”

You sighed, pulling your desk chair over to the vanity and motioning for him to sit down. Even though you were ready to sleep, it was hard to resist the way he looked up at you, his bloodshot eyes still brimming with affection. Wooyoung had this way of looking at you like you hung the stars in the sky, and you could never stay annoyed when he looked at you like that.

“Okay, so what look are we—”

“Aren’t you gonna sit down?” he interrupted, patting his lap as he waited for you to take your usual spot.

“It’d be easier to reach the makeup if I just stand up, Woo. Besides—”

But before you could finish, Wooyoung pulled you down, guiding you to straddle him. His goofy smile grew wider as you rolled your eyes.

“Don’t act like you don’t like being on top of me,” he teased, his hands resting in your hips.

You chuckled, playfully smacking his arm before grabbing a foundation brush. “Behave. Now hold still.”

As you started dabbing foundation onto his face, Wooyoung’s hands moved up to your waist, tracing light, lazy circles that made it nearly impossible to focus. You bit back a smile, hoping he didn’t notice the way your cheeks flushed.

“You’re so gentle,” he murmured, his eyes locked on yours as you blended the foundation. “Feels nice.”

You tried to ignore the butterflies in your stomach as you moved to grab the concealer. “Stay still, or I’ll mess up.”

Wooyoung pouted but obliged, though his hands continued their light movements. “It’s hard when you’re so close,” he mumbled, his gaze lingering on your face.

You shook your head, smiling as you started patting the concealer under his eyes. “Yeah, ok pretty boy. Now close your eyes.

He obeyed, his long lashes brushing against his cheeks as he relaxed into your touch. You took your time, perfecting the base as he hummed contentedly, entranced by the feeling of your fingers against his skin.

“Wow, I can already tell I look amazing,” he said, cracking one eye open to see your reaction.

“Patience, diva,” you laughed, reaching for an eyeshadow palette. “Let me work my magic.”

He watched as you carefully selected a soft pink shade and began sweeping it across his eyelids. Every few seconds, Wooyoung would open his eyes a bit to peek at you and every time he’d break into a smile, watching you with a look so full of adoration it made your heart ache.

“You’re so good at this,” he said softly, his voice taking on a rare, serious tone. “It’s like… I don’t know. You make everything feel like art.”

You paused, warmth spreading through you at his unexpected compliment. “You’re making me blush, Woo.”

“Good,” he replied, his thumb tracing small circles on your back. “You should know how amazing you are.”

Trying to keep your composure, you moved on to his eyeliner. His eyes sparkled as you carefully lined them, and you couldn’t help but admire the way the makeup made his already striking features stand out. You brushed a bit of highlighter onto his cheekbones, and he closed his eyes, soaking in the attention like he wasn’t used to it by now. Still though, there was something so nice about being with someone who treated every intimate moment with you as if it were the first.

Once you finished, you leaned back, admiring your work. “There. You’re all done, Woo.”

He glanced in the mirror, his mouth dropping in playful awe. “I look like a whole new person! No… a prettier version of myself. You’re incredible, babe.”

You laughed, brushing back a stray lock of hair from his face. “You’re gorgeous with or without makeup. I just brought out what was already there.”

For a moment, you both stayed silent, just looking at each other. His hands found yours, and he pulled you even closer, his fingers threading through your hair as he let out a soft, contented sigh.

“You know I love you, right?” he murmured, his voice quieter than it had been all night.

Your heart skipped a beat as you leaned forward to give him a quick kiss. “Yeah… I love you too, Woo.”

A soft smile spread across his face, his eyes beginning to droop as the high was just starting to wear off. You felt him growing heavier, his hands resting in your lap as he started to drift off. His head leaned against your shoulder, his breathing evening out as sleep began to take over.

You could’ve moved, or nudged him towards the bed, but instead, you stayed right where you were, feeling the gentle weight of him against you. You watched his face relax as he slipped into sleep, his makeup still perfectly in place, highlighting his beauty even in his unconscious state.

In that moment, with his heartbeat steady against yours, you realized you were falling for him even more. If that was even possible.

On a not so unrelated note, you now had to tell Hongjoong he couldn’t have been more right if he tried.

[lucedilunax]

Thank you, I love you - C. Keller

pairing: Clayton Keller x girlfriend!reader

summary: Three times when she helped Clayton and one time when Clayton helped her

warning: NSFW, graphic sex (+18), swear words

words: 2.4k

note: ahh my first ever request work! i was so excited to write about clayton, enjoy it💕

masterlist

---

When Arizona’s franchise was suspended

In April, the big news hit that Coyotes won’t be in NHL. This was a shock for Clayton. He knew about the problems, but he was pushing away the thought that club, who drafted him and gave him a chance to play won’t be existing. His head was spiraling, he was uncertain about his future.

When Clayton got back home after coach told them about this, he hasn’t acknowledged his girlfriend sitting on a kitchen chair, waiting for him. Like always, she asked him questions about the training, but he haven’t heard anything. It was uncommon for him to ignore her. She started wondering if she has done something to piss him off.

She felt like the right call is to give Clayton space. When he went straight to the living room and turned on a movie, she went to their bedroom. As much as she wanted to confront him and ask him what’s going on, she preferred to stay out of it and wait for him to talk.

The evening came and she decided to leave the room and go to the kitchen to cook for both. She knew that Clayton can’t prepare any meals and probably haven't ate anything since he returned. She stepped into the kitchen, and he saw her. He immediately stood up and rushed to her.

“Hi love”. Clayton said and kissed her. “Sorry for earlier but I’ve got weird news and couldn’t place my mind in the right spot”. He hugged her and placed his head on her shoulder.

“Talk to me baby”. That’s all she said while running her hand down his back.

“Our franchise is suspended which means we’re not existing since next season”. He admitted to her. She felt the wet spot on her arm, but she didn't care about it. “I don’t even know if I’m gonna play hockey next season. Every club has good players on my position. I don’t want to retire in the age of 26, there’s still so many things I want to achieve”. She pushed herself from him to look at him. She grabbed Clayton’s face in her hand and kissed his lips.

“Baby, you’ll be playing next season. Stop doing this to yourself. You are great player, and you’ll find a new club. You won’t be in Arizona anymore, but you’ll stay in NHL. Trust me. This is all new and that’s why you feel this way but there’s gonna be club to take you under their wing”.

Clayton looked at her with love in his eyes. He knew she’s right. He’s good player and he’ll find a new club. He grabbed her waist and pulled her to another hug.

“Thank you. I needed this pep talk. I guess I just started overreacting after hearing the news”.

“That’s why I’m always here for you. Just try not to shut me off. I genuinely thought I did something to piss you off and that’s why you haven’t spoke to me since you got back home”. She laughed. He kissed her passionately.

“You, my love, could never do anything wrong”. He kissed her again. “Now, where are we going on dinner?” He asked.

“I planned to cook something. Why would you want to go out?” She asked confused.

“You deserve to be treated like a princess so we’re going out”. When they were going to the car, to lighten the mood, she joked.

“Besides, without Arizona there’s gonna be 31 clubs which is unpaired. They have to create a new team to make it even”. Clayton laughed when he heard that.

“You’re impossible”.

“Maybe, but you love me for that”. Before he opened her door, he grabbed her cheek and kissed her.

“You don’t even have a clue how much I love you”.

When they’ve moved to Utah (NSFW)

Whole summer, Clayton and his girlfriend spent on moving out from Arizona to Utah. It was stressful time for them because they needed to pack all their years of life into boxes. Both had fun finding out old things and getting all retrospections while looking at them. When the house was empty, they felt sad. All their relationship was moving on from the place where they fall in love.

Despite it, she and Clayton were excited for their new chapter. They started new adventure together in Utah. When they bought new house and stepped in, they sheer a tear. This was the place where they’re gonna be a family. She was the first one to look around. Clayton was going after her like a puppy. He saw how she’s gonna be taking care of her their kids in this place. He could already imagine that.

“So, what do you think?” He asked her.

“I love it. It’s beautiful. Can’t wait to start our new life here”. She said and placed her hands behind his neck. “What do you think?”

“It’s great. I’m so happy that you moved here with me”. He leans down and kissed her. “We need to celebrate this”. He kissed her again.

“Mhm, and what do you have in mind?” She asked knowing exactly what he has in mind.

“Let me show you”. Clayton grabbed her under her knees and took her in bridal style to the bedroom. He placed her on their new bed and started to kiss her.

“Wait”. She pulled out from him, and he looked confused. “We’re celebrating new life thanks to your transfer here so let me do the work”. He smiled at her words.

“And how are you gonna do it?”

“Let me ride you”. She blushed at her words. No matter how many times they had sex or even conversations about it, she was shy.

“Undressed love and I’ll do the same. Later, I’m all yours”. She obeyed his words. He undressed immediately. She took off her shirt and pants. but when she wanted to unclip her bra, he stopped her. He was standing naked in front on her when he reached for the bra clip to take if off. Later, he kneeled in front of her and took off her panties. He placed kisses on her lower stomach.

“Stop teasing babe, I really need your dick in me”. Clayton laughed at her words.

“Someone’s eager”. He kissed her lips and sat on the bed. “Then ride me like you wanted”.

She sat on his thighs and spit on her hand to run it over his dick.

“Now, you stop teasing me or I’ll get my way with you”. He said in serious tone. She grabbed his cock and placed her entry on his. Clayton grabbed her waist and helped her to fully sat on him.

“Fuck, you’re huge Clayton”. He smiled at her words. He hasn’t done anything. Just kept his hands on her waist and let her adjust to his length. When she was ready, she started jumping on him. He took off his hands from her waist and played with her tits. She was moaning his name. When she got little tired, he pulled her to his chest and grabbed her ass to helped her in the movements. She started to kiss his jawline until she moaned again from the new angle.

“Clayton… I’m close”. She said while making hickeys on his collarbone.

“Hold on, I’m almost there love”. He speeds up and soon after he could feel her coming all over his cock. He thrusted couple more times and cum in her pussy.

She fell on his chest tired. Clayton stayed in her and kissed her temple.

“I guess we just christened our new house”. She laughed at his words. He felt that she’s shivering from the cold. “C’mon, let’s take a bath and order some takeaway. The boxes can wait until tomorrow. I love you”. He picked her up and kissed her cheek.

When Clayton had been named a captain

Everything was going smoothly in Utah. Most of Clayton’s teammates were transferred there and he’d been hanging out with them. With his teammates, their partners also came here so she had friends here too. They started new life in new state, but they stayed in the same circle.

When Clayton started trainings with new team, there was still big unknown; who’s gonna be a captain in Utah Hockey Club. Everyone was wondering about it but all their focus was on preparation for upcoming season. Almost every preseason game, Utah played without captain. It changed a week before start of the season.

Day after game against Anaheim, the coach named a first-ever Utah captain. He decided that Clayton is the best option with his knowledge, help and understanding. He was over the moon, grateful for the trust and opportunity. In Arizona, he had been alternate captain but now, he was the leader of this ship.

When Clayton returned to their house, he saw her laying on the couch, watching a tv show. He dropped his luggage and laid on top of her.

“Get off me”. She said giggling at his affection. “What’s with you babe? Had a good trip?” She asked curious about what he’s gonna say to her.

 “Two wins and two lost games but that’s not important”. He gets off her and stand up next to his girlfriend.

“Okay, now you’re scaring me”.

“I’ve been named a captain”. Clayton announced proudly to her. When she heard that, she screamed from joy and throw herself into his arms. He caught her trying not to fall at the coffee table behind them.

“I’m so fucking proud of you babe. Oh my gosh, this is huge. I… I don’t know what to say”. She looked into his eyes. He saw the tears coming down her cheeks, so he dried them off with his thumb.

“Thanks love but…” He looked at her with serious expression. “What if I fail them?”

“Stop. You’re the right person on the right place. You’ve already been a captain in Arizona, and you did great”.

“Alternate captain”. Clayton corrected her.

“Still a captain. Look, I get it that you’re scared that you might fail them, but you have coaches and team behind your back. You’re not alone in this. You’ve proved yourself in the past 8 years. You’re great player but most importantly you’re intelligent and you know what you’re doing. You know those guys very well and they trust you. You’re not gonna fail. Not on my watch”. She kissed him.

“Thank you. I needed those words. I don’t know what I would done without you”.

“That’s why I’m here, to help you and support you”.

“Oh, I love you”. He kissed her and hugged her like his life depended on it.

“I love you too captain”.

When she found out that she’s pregnant

She had been feeling sick when Clayton left on a roadie, but she didn’t wanted to bother him. She was certain that it was just food poisoning. When Utah was playing against New York Rangers, she invited other girlfriends to her and Clayton’s house to watch the game. Soon after, game was forgotten, and they had a girl’s night.

She refused to drink wine with them, and questions started floating about pregnancy. She explained that she feels sick and that’s why she doesn’t want to drink but other girls tried to convince her to take the test. At first, she was skeptical, but she knew she has nothing to waste. The next day, she went to the pharmacy to buy pregnancy test.

Sitting in the bathroom and looking at it, she got scared. She knew it’s a bad timing for them to have a kid. They just moved to their new house. She was searching for a new job and Clayton just became a captain. She took a deep breath and took the test.

The next three minutes went super slow. Her mind was floating around. When she grabbed the test, she saw that it’s positive. She started to cry but didn’t know if it’s from happiness or sadness.

She and Clayton always dreamt about having kids, but they wanted to wait until they’re married. They haven’t even been engaged. Will Clayton be happy? What if he leaves her? She started to have all the dark scenarios in her head. She didn’t want to break the news to him on the phone. She hasn’t even said to him that she’s sick because she was confident that he’s gonna freak out.

When Clayton returned from roadie, he immediately knew that something is off with his girlfriend. She haven't came to welcome him, and the house was dead silent. His steps lead him to their bedroom. When he opened the door, he saw her sitting in the middle of their bed biting her nails, habit she had, when she was nervous.

“Hey, hey, hey. It’s okay”. Clayton approached her, grabbing her hands and placing them down.

“No, it’s not okay”. By her voice, he knew she was crying.

“Tell me what’s wrong”. She took a deep breath.

“I’m pregnant”. She whispered. Her head was looking down, she hasn’t had the bravery to look into his eyes.

“Love, that’s a great news”. He grabbed her under the chin, so she was looking at him. “We wanted to have kids. Why are you sad about it?”

“It’s the timing. I don’t have a job; you are a captain. We just moved here. It’s all happening too fast”.

“Maybe fact that you don’t have a job is a good thing. You can stay at home and rest while you are growing new life. You know that money is not a problem. I know that this might look like a bad timing, but we can do it. Together. I’m not leaving you alone in this. We can handle it”. He said and hugged her. He was over the moon by the news, but her reaction scared him. “But if you don’t want to have a kid now, I’ll be fine with that. It’s your body so you’ll decide. Although, I’m willing to be part of this adventure with you”.

“I want this kid but… I don’t know. I guess I freaked out”.

“We’re a team love. I’m here for you”. He kissed her.

“We’re gonna be parents. This sounds insane”.

“True, but I’m excited for the new journey, especially with you by my side”.

“I love you Clayton”. She kissed him deeply.

“I love you too future mommy”. He joked and kissed her back.

---

Thanks for reading❤️

[ahyperactivehero]

Please please please a drabble I've been in a constant state of panic. Maybe a fluff fic of Edwin and Charles at an amusement park or carnival? ❤️

sorry this leaned somewhere between fluff and... sad? not really, but there is a touch of it, which i feel like sort of fits with the day everyone has had.

much love to you, @edwinspaynes and thank you for the prompt <3 <3 <3

(i took drabble prompts during election night and am currently getting them out. everyone, please stay safe my loves <3)

Drabble 3

May, 1990

Charles hadn’t realized how much his enjoyment of carnivals or amusement parks depended on the types of foods he could eat until he couldn’t enjoy them.

He’d practically begged Edwin to come with him, but now that he was here, he wasn’t sure what to do. He couldn’t play any of the games– the person manning the booth couldn’t see him. He couldn’t eat any of the food– it would pass right through him and it’s not like he could taste it anyways.

So what was there left to do? He eyed all of the rides nearby, but quickly ruled them out one by one. He might have convinced Edwin to come with him, but he couldn’t picture him on any of the rides.

He sighed and kicked at the dirt. He didn’t even know why he was making a big deal about any of this. It’s not like it really mattered. Not when he was alive and certainly not now that he was dead.

“Do you–” Edwin started and then trailed off. “Is there a ride you would like to go on?” He looked around, his eyes landing on a group of teens walking by and followed them as they passed through them. He did that sometimes, his attention getting caught on something and just running away until something brought it back.

“Nah, mate,” he said with a forced smile he hoped Edwin couldn’t see through. “S’not really that important.”

Edwin furrowed his brows, that very distinct line appearing between them. “But you were excited?” he said, his voice tipping into a question.

“Not really,” Charles lied. “Just thought it might be cool to check out.”

That same confused look stayed on Edwin’s face. “But I–” he cut himself off and fixed his bowtie, which was already very much in place. “Very well.”

He smiled again and bumped his shoulder, completely content to head to the Hall of Mirrors and leave. Edwin, it seemed, had other plans.

“If you did want to ride something, however, need I remind you that any and all rides are open to us,” he said, waving his hands in a way that gestured to the rides around them. “It is not like ghosts need wait.”

“Wouldn’t wanna make you do anything you don’t wanna do,” he said with a shake of his head.

That line only seemed to deepen. “What makes you think that?” he asked. “Besides, aren’t we here because…”

Charles frowned and tilted his head. “Here ‘cause what?” 

Edwin cleared his throat. “Well, it is your birthday, is it not?”

Blood that no longer existed seemed to freeze in him as he stared at Edwin. “What?” he asked, his throat locking up.

Thin, nimble fingers darted up and down Edwin’s coat before settling into fists against each other. Nervous, flighty energy rolled off of him in waves, nearly strong enough to make Charles sick.

“Perhaps I was mistaken,” Edwin said. “I– well, I just thought.”

Charles thought back to the last time he had looked at a calendar. It was hard to keep track of what day it was when you never needed to sleep. Or had any sort of usual schedule. Or real purpose in this afterlife.

Not that he didn’t think hanging out with Edwin was brills, because it was. And he definitely rather be doing absolutely fuck-all with him than moving on, but that didn’t mean some things weren’t hard.

“No,” he said after calculating it in his head. “You were right.” 

This would be the first birthday since his death. The first one that he’d celebrate without a word from his mum or dad. Not that he was exactly keen to hear from his dad, but it was the principle of the thing, wasn’t it?

“So,” Edwin said, looking over to one of the spinning rides. “Do you want to ride?”

“Nah,” he said again. He turned away, already planning his route back to the closest mirror when Edwin piped up.

“What if I did?” he asked.

He nearly tipped over from stopping so fast. Charles turned, looking at Edwin with unchecked disbelief on his face. “You wanna ride?” he asked, unable to stop himself from looking Edwin up and down. Had anyone ever rode an amusement park ride with a bowtie on before?

That strange, calculating look came over Edwin’s face. The same one he got when something had especially sparked his interest. Last week it had been one of Charles’s favorite songs; even though Edwin had claimed to dislike it because it was just ‘noise.’

That hadn’t stopped him from catching Edwin humming it under his breath later that afternoon.

“I must admit I am rather interested in them,” he said, glancing at Charles from the corner of his eye. “It seems as though everyone is enjoying them, but I find myself unable to understand why.”

Ah, so that was it. Edwin always did love a question.

“Bit of fun, innit?” Charles said. “Kinda like riding a horse or a bike or skateboard.”

Edwin nodded. “I do like horses, although I fear I am not sure what a skateboard is.”

Right. Should have guessed that.

“So you really wanna go?” Charles asked. Even he could hear how desperate he was for Edwin to say yes.

Because Edwin would say yes, if Charles asked. That was something he’d found out rather quickly about the boy. No matter what it was, he almost always agreed to try something, even if he was sure he’d hate it. How long he was committed to trying tended to depend on the action.

But Charles didn’t want to have to ask. He knew it wasn’t fair, but he wanted someone who wanted to willingly do what he wanted to do, even if that was as simple as riding the whirling ride in front of them.

“I wouldn’t have said so if I didn’t want to,” Edwin said, and Charles was sure that was the case.

“Right!” Charles said. He clapped his hands together and shuffled Edwin towards the ride. “Let’s go then!”

Thankfully there seemed to be one empty as they approached. Otherwise, Charles shuddered, they might have had to sit in a seat where someone else was sitting. Which was fine, but definitely not the best experience– for ghosts or living people. He didn’t think he’d ever get used to people being able to walk through him.

“So, you hold on right here,” Charles said, pulling the bar down across both of their laps. “And then you lean right or left and it helps spin you faster.”

Edwin’s lip jutted out in thought. “And we want that?” he asked.

“Yeah we want that!” Charles said, feeling more and more pumped. “It’s what makes it fun.”

Edwin nodded, agreeing to try it.

Once the ride started it quickly became obvious that they wouldn’t need to lean. Since there was supposed to be no one inside, the ride moved crazily– around and around until Charles was sure he’d be sick. 

“Ghosts cannot get sick,” Edwin said, as they climbed off the ride. His green tinged face spoke otherwise.

“Anything else you wanna try?” Charles asked, glancing at the other rides.

Edwin did the same. “I picked this one. You pick the next,” he said. 

And Charles didn’t point out that actually Charles had picked that ride. It didn’t seem to be worth mentioning. 

He picked three more rides, each one turning their stomachs more and more until Edwin finally waved off. “I think I need to sit,” he said, all but collapsing onto a bench outside one of the lines. 

Charles nodded and sat next to him. Who knew vertigo could affect ghosts?

“Gotta be like a rule book somewhere to this all, right?” Charles asked, seemingly out of the blue.

Edwin pulled his head up from between his knees to look at him. “Amusement park rides?” he asked.

“Ghost rules, I mean,” he said. “Like, who knew we could get sick?”

“We cannot,” Edwin said, although his head was back between his legs, so who really knew what was true anymore.

“Just saying. Seems like it would be useful,” he said.

Edwin bobbed his head slightly. “Maybe you should write it,” he said.

Charles laughed, far more loud and boisterous than he had intended. “Me? Write a book? Oh that’s rich.”

Edwin looked at him. “I don’t see why not. You’re intelligent, you love to question me when I tell you something about ‘ghosts rules’ as you so call them. I think you’d be perfect for it.”

That was just ridiculous. “If anyone should, it’s you, mate. I’ve seen the way you read, and you’re always writing in that notebook of yours. You’re already halfway to writing the book!”

A small, genuine smile touched Edwin’s lips. It was rare for Charles to see, something that he could usually only coax out of him at the most unexpected moments. He’d love to know how to get more of them, how to be the one to always make him smile, but he’d settle for what he had gotten so far.

“I think I have a different career in mind,” he said. 

This was the first Charles had heard of this. Who had ever heard of a ghost with a career before?

“What is it, mate? Gonna be a full time scarer at a haunted house?” he asked, elbowing him.

That smile again. “No,” he said. “I’m thinking about being a detective.”

Well, Charles thought, that was probably the best idea either one of them had had yet.

[amethystarachnid]

Hey! If your taking requests, I love your work so much and I had an idea I would really love to see how you execute it.

So it would be with Tony Stark, and if its okay Male!Reader, but not romantic, the reader is a teen who is a product of some old fling Tony had and after being poorly taken care of by his mom (whatever that inclines you to write, abuse, bad boyfriend, alcoholism etc.) She dumps him off at stark tower with a note and what little belongings the reader has and his birth certificate to Tony for him to take care of. And the rest of what happens from there is up to you! Basically heavy on the found family troupe, and a little angst with some good fluff. The reader can be from 16-18 still in high school. He has Tony's sarcastic humor and smarts, but he nodes his intelligence because his mom never really helped him appreciate it, basically one of those kids that gets straight A's without seemingly trying and looking kind of stupid, the reader is quiet and a bit cold but that's because of how he was raised, and isn't one to share how he's feeling. If you can do this I'd be so thankful, if not its completely understandable, I hope I gave you enough creative liberty to make it fun, I know it'll be great if you do write it! Again I love your fics so much and I can't wait to read more of what you have!!💜☺

LEGACY

⤷ ANTHONY “TONY” E. STARK

ᯓ★ Pairing: Anthony “Tony” E. Stark x male!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: platonic!, a lot of angst and some fluff

ᯓ★ Request from: normal request

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 5.5k

ᯓ★ Summary: literally what the ask said

ᯓ★ TW(s): mentions of abusive household and rader feeling like people keep abandoning him

ᯓ★ Thank you so much for your request and for liking my work! <3

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

Your whole life, you’ve never known stability. The cramped apartments, the ever-shifting walls painted in hues of desperation, are as familiar to you as your own skin. You’re seventeen now, but you still feel like you’re stuck in this never-ending carousel of uncertainty and survival. Your mom—who’s always been more into herself than anyone else—has a way of shoving her problems under the rug, sweeping you along with the mess until you’re barely holding it together.

Her boyfriend—if you could even call him that—is the latest problem. Travis is the kind of guy who doesn’t need to say much to make his point clear. It’s in the way he takes up space, fills every room with his presence, making himself the center of your lives as if it’s his right. He started coming around when you were fourteen, and it’s only gotten worse. You know he hates you, and he doesn’t even try to hide it. To him, you’re a nuisance, some extra baggage he never asked for, and he’s got no problem reminding you of that. Your sarcasm and quick wit, the things that make you, you, are just more reasons for him to snap, roll his eyes, or call you ungrateful.

Your mom’s always been…complicated. You’ve known that since you were little, watching her go from one relationship to another, always searching for some kind of validation she never seems to find. She calls herself a free spirit, but it’s like she’s just drifting, lost in a fog of her own making. She can be fun, sure, when things are good. There were even moments when you thought she really loved you. But as time went on, you learned to read the signs: the distant glances, the subtle irritations, the way she avoids looking at you for too long, as if you’re some kind of mirror she doesn’t want to face.

It’s your intelligence that bugs her the most, you think. You see through her, every lie, every excuse, every careless decision. And she knows it. It’s like looking into a warped mirror—she can see pieces of herself in you, but you’re everything she’s never been: sharp, observant, with a mind that doesn’t let things slide. And it grates on her.

The fights get worse as you grow older, each one escalating faster than the last. Your sarcasm is your armor, your way of dealing with the endless cycle of disappointment. But every quip, every clever retort, only makes her angrier. You can tell she hates that she can’t control you, can’t manipulate you the way she does with everyone else in her life. She calls you difficult, a burden, a mistake she should’ve never had. You don’t let it show, but each word leaves a scar, another reminder that you’re on your own.

Then one day, it’s too much. Travis and your mom are fighting—again. It’s loud, voices echoing in the small apartment, and you’re in your room, trying to block it out like usual. But this time, you hear your name. You’ve been in this situation enough to know that’s never a good sign. So, you stay quiet, waiting, listening.

“You know he’s not even mine, right?” Travis snaps, his voice dripping with frustration. “Why do I have to put up with this kid? He’s not my responsibility!”

“You think I don’t know that?” Your mom’s voice is strained, like she’s barely holding on herself. “I’ve tried—God, I’ve tried—but he’s just…he’s too much. I can’t handle it anymore.”

There’s a pause, and for a second, you think maybe she’ll say something else, something that makes it sound like she cares. But the words never come.

“Then get rid of him,” Travis says, so bluntly that it leaves a chill in the air. “You’ve got the kid’s birth certificate. Drop him off at his real dad’s. He’s rich, isn’t he? Let him deal with the brat.”

You don’t move. You barely breathe. But deep down, you already know this is it. There’s no fighting it this time, no clever comment to deflect what’s happening. She’s made her choice, and it’s not you.

The next morning, she’s silent as she hands you an envelope. There’s no apology, no excuse, just a look that tells you she’s already gone, checked out of whatever shred of motherhood she once claimed to have. You don’t even ask where you’re going; you know the answer as soon as you see the address on the piece of paper.

Stark Tower.

It feels like a final act of cruelty, really. The man she’s always refused to talk about, the one figure in your life who’s only ever been a name, and now he’s your last option. Tony Stark. Genius, billionaire, Avenger. And, apparently, your father.

You stand outside Stark Tower with a single bag of your things and that stupid piece of paper—the birth certificate that’s somehow supposed to mean you’re his problem now. You feel like you’re stuck in some cosmic joke, a punchline to a story you didn’t even know you were a part of. There’s no going back, though. That’s clear enough.

So, you take a deep breath, adjust your bag on your shoulder, and walk through the doors.

Tony doesn’t even get a chance to process it at first. One moment he’s sipping coffee in his lab, deep in the flow of something unnecessarily complex that’s keeping his mind busy, and the next, Pepper is calling him down to the lobby. She sounds irritated, stressed—like maybe it’s his fault, which Tony wouldn’t be surprised by, honestly. He heads down, muttering about "another hero here to tell me how to do my job."

Then he sees you.

You’re leaning against the glass wall, wearing an expression that’s somehow familiar yet entirely alien to him. It’s not hard to recognize the mix of defiance and exhaustion in your eyes; he’s spent years perfecting that look himself. But the shock doesn’t really hit until you hand him the birth certificate. Your name and his, right there in black and white, unavoidably real.

For once in his life, Tony Stark is speechless.

“Seventeen years,” he mutters, mostly to himself. “And now you’re here because…?”

You shrug, clearly unimpressed. “Mom didn’t want me anymore, and apparently, you’re my dad. So… here I am. Congratulations.”

You’re blunt, almost cruel in the way you say it, like you don’t expect anything from him and don’t care if you get it. But he can’t look away from you. For the first time in a long time, he’s out of his depth. He’s had seventeen years to know this was possible, maybe even inevitable, but standing in front of you, he realizes he’s never prepared himself for this. He’s never thought about what it would mean to actually be a father.

Yet here you are, standing in front of him with your mother’s words still hanging over you, and he can see the weight you carry in the way your shoulders are always tense, the way your eyes don’t quite meet his.

“Well, kid,” he says after a beat, plastering on his most confident smile, “looks like you’ve officially joined the Stark family. There’s no going back now.”

Over the next few days, Tony throws himself into fatherhood with all the enthusiasm of someone tackling a new, challenging invention. He’s reading parenting books, taking advice from anyone who’ll give it, and trying desperately to crack the code of how to be a “cool dad.” He lets you explore Stark Tower freely, offers you access to his entire workshop, and even builds you a custom tablet, “Stark-style,” he brags, with enough advanced tech to impress even the most skeptical teenager.

He talks to you about science, testing your knowledge and realizing with a mix of pride and horror that you’re nearly as sharp as he was at seventeen. He tries to make jokes, throwing out sarcastic one-liners he assumes will win you over. Sometimes, he even manages to get a smirk out of you. But that’s as far as it ever goes.

Every attempt he makes is met with your icy wall, a defense mechanism built after years of disappointment and neglect. You listen, nod occasionally, but never laugh or even show interest. The most he ever gets out of you is a dry, deadpan “cool,” which is enough to keep him going but never enough to satisfy him.

Tony tries not to take it personally, but it’s hard. You’re right there, his kid, yet you’re worlds away, keeping him at arm’s length as if he’s just another adult you can’t trust. He catches glimpses of the sarcasm, the intelligence, but it’s wrapped up in layers of resentment and guarded detachment. You’re always cool, always distant, and he knows why, but that doesn’t make it any easier.

One evening, he sits you down with a grin, tossing a shiny, compact device into your hands. It’s sleek, metallic—one of his newer designs.

“Mini reactor prototype. You’d be the first to use it.” He says it with pride, like he’s giving you something no one else in the world could get.

You look at it for a moment, then at him. “Cool,” you say again, but your voice is flat, unimpressed. You set it on the table between you without another glance.

Tony’s grin falters, and he lets out a frustrated laugh. “You’re a tough crowd, you know that?”

You just shrug, giving him that practiced blank stare he’s come to know well. He’s finally reaching his breaking point. “Y’know, I’m trying here,” he says, exasperated. “I’m trying to… I don’t know, connect. Be… whatever it is you need me to be. But you’re acting like I’m just another stranger.”

You pause, considering him for a moment, and something shifts in your expression—like maybe, for just a second, you see his effort. But then your face goes neutral again, back to that familiar shield.

“Maybe that’s because you are,” you reply, voice quiet, almost too soft for him to hear.

Tony feels the blow, but he hides it with a forced chuckle. “Fair enough,” he says, though there’s a sting in his voice. “I can’t change the past, but… I’m here now. I’m not gonna just… walk away.”

The words linger between you, both of you knowing the weight they carry. You’ve heard promises like this before. You’ve heard them from your mother, from people who were supposed to care, and each one of those promises had turned hollow, leaving you more alone than before. So, when Tony looks at you with genuine sincerity, with a hope that you’ll give him a chance, all you can do is nod, burying any flicker of vulnerability.

As the weeks go on, Tony keeps trying. He brings you into the lab with him, walks you through his latest projects, even lets you experiment with some of the tech yourself. He drags you to burger joints at midnight, tries to coax out stories about school, hobbies, anything. Sometimes you let your guard slip, offering a sarcastic remark, a comment that makes him laugh—but the moment always passes too quickly, and you’re back behind that wall before he can push any further.

He’s persistent, though, and there’s a part of you that almost wants to give in, that wants to believe him. But your trust is a muscle you haven’t used in so long, it feels impossible to start now. So, you keep him at bay, deflecting his kindness, giving him just enough to satisfy his efforts without letting him in.

Tony doesn’t quit, though. He keeps showing up, every day, every night, and for the first time in your life, you don’t feel like someone’s just waiting for the moment they can leave.

Every morning, Tony insists on driving you to school, and it’s nothing short of a spectacle. He shows up outside Stark Tower in one of his many luxury cars, honking loudly, practically begging for attention. It’s become a routine, one you can’t escape no matter how many times you roll your eyes or tell him he doesn’t have to do it. He’s always got some snarky excuse, saying things like, “It’s my job as a dad,” or “I just want to see the kid off,” as if anyone believes he actually cares about high school protocol.

And everyone notices. Whispers trail behind you as you walk the halls, classmates you’ve known for years suddenly gawking at you like you’re a different person. They don’t know you as you anymore; they know you as Tony Stark’s kid. It’s suffocating. You’ve spent your entire life trying to stay unnoticed, to blend into the background. Now, no matter where you go, everyone’s waiting for you to crack a joke like him, to show off some kind of Stark-level genius.

Only one person seems to still see you, really see you—your best friend, Sam. You’ve known him since middle school, back when everything was simpler, when no one knew or cared who your dad was. He’s the only one who doesn’t treat you any differently now, the only person you actually trust enough to talk to about any of this.

One afternoon, you’re sitting outside on the bleachers with Sam, trying to ignore the fact that Tony’s car is already parked by the curb, waiting for you. The other students eye it like some exotic animal they don’t quite understand, but you keep your head down, just hoping the day will end without any more awkward questions or judgmental stares.

Sam nudges you. “So, uh… you still giving the old man the cold shoulder, huh?”

You sigh, avoiding his gaze. “I’m not giving him the cold shoulder. I’m just… keeping my distance.”

He rolls his eyes. “Dude, I see you with him every morning. The man looks like he’s about to recite the Gettysburg Address just to get a smile out of you. And you’re over here acting like he doesn’t exist.”

You shift uncomfortably, crossing your arms. “He’s only doing it because he feels obligated, Sam. It’s Tony Stark. He doesn’t actually care about me.”

Sam raises an eyebrow. “You really believe that? You think he’s the kind of guy who’d waste his time on someone he doesn’t care about?”

You don’t answer, but you can feel Sam’s eyes on you, cutting through all your defenses. He’s always been able to read you better than anyone, and right now, that’s the last thing you want.

“He’s trying, Y/N,” Sam continues, his voice softer. “Like, really trying. And I get it. I get that you’ve been burned, but… maybe give him a chance? Just talk to him. It’s not like he’s gonna run off if you tell him what’s going on.”

You look away, jaw clenched as you try to shake off the knot of emotion tightening in your chest. You don’t want to admit that Sam might be right. Letting someone in, giving someone a chance—that’s always been a dangerous game, one you’re not sure you can afford to play again.

That night, you’re lying awake in your room, staring at the ceiling, Sam’s words playing on a loop in your mind. The silence around you feels heavy, pressing down on you, and you can’t shake the feeling that maybe, just maybe, you owe Tony more than you’ve been giving him. You’ve seen his effort, the way he tries to connect with you, even when you push him away. He’s there, every day, waiting for you, and no one has ever done that before.

Something shifts in you, a kind of tired resignation, and before you can talk yourself out of it, you get up and head downstairs to his workshop.

Tony’s hunched over a table, tinkering with some gadget, and he barely notices you at first. It’s only when you clear your throat that he looks up, surprise flickering across his face before he masks it with a smile.

“Hey, kid,” he says, setting down his tools. “Couldn’t sleep?”

You shrug, suddenly feeling the weight of what you’re about to say. “Yeah, I just… I wanted to talk to you about something.”

He raises an eyebrow, a mixture of curiosity and concern on his face. He gestures to a nearby chair. “Go ahead. I’m all ears.”

You sit, staring at your hands as you try to find the right words. For a long time, there’s only silence between you, the air thick with tension. Finally, you take a deep breath, forcing yourself to speak.

“I know I’ve been… difficult,” you begin, your voice barely above a whisper. “And I know you’re trying. It’s just… it’s not easy for me.”

Tony watches you intently, not interrupting, his expression softer than you’ve ever seen it. You look down, focusing on your hands, the words spilling out before you can stop them.

“When I was a kid, my mom was all I had. I thought… I thought she cared about me, even if she didn’t always show it. But she changed, especially after she started seeing this guy. Travis. He wasn’t… he wasn’t a good person, Tony. He… he made sure I knew I wasn’t wanted.” Your voice breaks slightly, but you push through it, feeling the old wounds tear open. “He told me I was a burden, that I was just in the way. And my mom, she… she just let it happen. She barely even looked at me by the end.”

Tony’s face darkens, his jaw clenched as he listens, but he stays silent, letting you continue.

“I learned not to trust people,” you say, voice wavering. “Every time I thought someone would stick around, they didn’t. So I stopped… I stopped letting people in. I told myself it was easier that way.”

You look up at him, and for the first time, there’s no mask, no shield—just raw vulnerability, something you haven’t allowed yourself to feel in years.

“And then I showed up here,” you say, your voice barely a whisper now. “And you… you keep trying. You keep showing up, every day, like you actually care. And it’s… it’s confusing, okay? Because part of me wants to believe it, but the other part…” You trail off, wiping away a tear that slips down your cheek.

Tony doesn’t hesitate. He reaches over, placing a hand on your shoulder, grounding you, letting you know he’s there. “Y/N,” he says softly, his voice rough with emotion. “I can’t change what you went through. I can’t go back and fix it, as much as I wish I could. But I’m here now, and I’m not going anywhere.”

You meet his gaze, and there’s something in his eyes that you’ve never seen before—a fierce, unwavering resolve that feels almost foreign. You swallow hard, feeling the weight of his words sink in, feeling the tiniest flicker of hope spark to life.

“It’s not easy for me,” you murmur. “It’s… it’s hard for me to trust people. And I know I’m not the easiest person to be around. But… I want to try. I want to believe you. I just… I need you to be patient with me. I need you to not give up on me.”

Tony nods, his hand still resting on your shoulder, steady and reassuring. “Hey,” he says, his voice breaking a little. “I’m not giving up on you, kid. Not now, not ever. You’re my son, and I’m here for the long haul. However long it takes, okay?”

The words settle around you, a warmth you haven’t felt in years. You don’t have to say anything; he seems to understand, giving your shoulder a reassuring squeeze before he lets go. And in that moment, something in you softens, just a little, like maybe you can let him in.

For the first time, you allow yourself to believe him, to believe that maybe he really won’t walk away. And even though the walls around your heart don’t come down all at once, you feel them start to crack, piece by piece, letting a little light seep in.

After that night, things start to change. It’s slow, gradual, like thawing ice, but there’s a noticeable shift between you and Tony. You’re still guarded, still wary of letting him all the way in, but he doesn’t push. He just keeps showing up, every day, every night, just like he promised. And slowly, piece by piece, you let him in.

The first time you ask to work on something together, Tony practically beams. You’re sitting at the kitchen counter with your physics homework in front of you—normally a breeze, something you’d get done in a few minutes. But today, you’ve left a few problems untouched, hoping he’ll notice.

Sure enough, Tony glances over your shoulder and raises an eyebrow. “Need a hand with that?” he asks, and there’s a careful lightness to his voice, like he’s trying to keep things casual, so he doesn’t scare you off.

You shrug, trying to act indifferent. “Sure, if you’ve got time,” you say, even though both of you know you could solve this on your own without breaking a sweat. But Tony doesn’t call you out on it. He just grabs a chair, pulls it over, and sits down next to you, leaning in to look at your work.

For the next hour, the two of you go over formulas and theories, his explanations coming with a few sarcastic quips and exaggerated hand gestures. Every so often, he goes off on a tangent, telling you stories about his own time in high school or sharing a strange fact he thinks will help you remember a concept. You listen, half-smiling at his antics, and eventually even throw in a few of your own sarcastic comments. You can tell he’s trying not to make a big deal out of it, but there’s a spark in his eyes that tells you he’s thrilled to be here, helping you, no matter how small the reason.

As the days go by, you find yourself spending more and more time in Tony’s workshop. It becomes your safe space, the place where you don’t feel like you have to hide or put up walls. Tony lets you explore, handing you tools and explaining how they work, guiding you through his more complicated inventions. It’s like learning a new language, one he’s eager to teach you, and he’s a surprisingly patient teacher.

One afternoon, he’s working on a new suit upgrade, and you’re watching, silently impressed by how smoothly he moves, how every action is precise and practiced. You’re deep in thought when he glances over at you, smirking.

“Thinking of joining the family business?” he jokes, tossing you a wrench. “If you’re interested, I could always use an extra pair of hands.”

You catch the wrench, feeling a rare, genuine smile tug at the corners of your mouth. “Maybe I will,” you say, feeling a rush of warmth that’s unfamiliar but not unwelcome.

He shows you how to tighten a piece of armor plating, explaining each step with a casual ease that you find yourself getting lost in. There’s something oddly comforting about the way he talks, like he’s sharing a secret only the two of you understand. And as you work, side by side, you realize that you actually look forward to these moments, the quiet companionship that comes from working together on something you both enjoy.

One evening, you catch yourself staring at your chemistry textbook, pages open to a particularly dull section on thermodynamics. Normally, you’d power through it on your own, but tonight, you feel the familiar tug of loneliness creeping in, and before you know it, you’re on your feet, heading down to Tony’s lab.

When you reach the doorway, he looks up, surprised, then quickly wipes the expression off his face and pretends to be engrossed in his latest project. “What’s up?” he asks, as casually as he can manage.

You hold up the textbook, pretending to be annoyed. “This stuff is terrible. Thought maybe you could explain it better than my teacher does.”

Tony raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Well, I’m honored to know you think so highly of my teaching skills.” He gestures for you to sit down, and as you do, he starts flipping through the pages of your book. “Thermodynamics, huh? You sure you’re not just here for the riveting conversation?”

You roll your eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

But you both know the truth, and there’s an unspoken understanding between you as he dives into the material. He doesn’t just lecture; he makes it a story, breaking down each concept with analogies, acting out scenarios, and throwing in enough jokes to keep you both entertained. You throw in questions just to keep him talking, just so you don’t have to go back to your empty room just yet.

And somewhere along the way, you realize you’re not just learning about science. You’re learning about him—about his quirks, his sense of humor, the way he lights up when he’s talking about things he’s passionate about. He’s not just Tony Stark, billionaire genius, Iron Man. He’s… Tony, your dad, someone who, against all odds, actually seems to care about you.

Over time, you both fall into a rhythm. Tony starts waiting for you in the mornings, holding out a cup of coffee or hot chocolate, claiming he needs company on his drive to work. You never say it, but you look forward to those mornings, the way he fills the car with stories about his latest projects or about old college pranks he pulled that make you laugh in spite of yourself.

One day, you’re both hunched over a set of schematics in his lab, tossing ideas back and forth as you brainstorm a new design for a stabilizer that could potentially improve flight control in his suits. You’re getting so into it that you forget to be guarded, throwing out suggestions, bouncing thoughts off each other in rapid-fire succession.

At one point, Tony stops, leaning back in his chair to look at you with a smirk. “You know,” he says, a touch of pride in his voice, “you’re pretty damn good at this. Got that Stark brain for sure.”

You feel a warmth spread through you, and for the first time, you don’t brush it off. “Maybe,” you say, smiling despite yourself. “But I guess it helps when you have a good teacher.”

Tony chuckles, but there’s a glimmer of emotion in his eyes, something raw and unguarded. “Yeah, well… you’re not a bad student either.”

There’s a moment of silence as the two of you look at each other, an understanding passing between you that doesn’t need words. You know he’s trying, and somehow, that knowledge makes the walls around your heart crumble just a little bit more.

A few days later, you’re working on homework in the living room when Tony walks in, holding a set of blueprints he’s obviously excited about. But when he sees you bent over your books, he pauses, a mischievous grin spreading across his face.

“Hey, need some help?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

You look up, raising an eyebrow back at him. “With calculus? Pretty sure I’ve got this covered.”

He shrugs, feigning offense. “I’ll have you know I was quite the calculus prodigy back in the day.”

“Oh, yeah?” You smirk, half-teasing. “Care to prove it?”

Tony grins, and before you know it, he’s pulled up a chair, leaning over your work with the same intensity he brings to his inventions. You pretend to need help with a few problems, and he’s more than happy to guide you through them, throwing in jokes and sarcastic comments the whole way. Every so often, he nudges your shoulder, grinning like he’s just scored a victory when he catches you smiling.

Eventually, he lets out an exaggerated sigh. “Well, I think we’ve both learned a lot today,” he says, stretching dramatically.

“Yeah,” you reply, smirking. “Like the fact that you’re worse at calculus than I am.”

Tony gapes, clutching his chest in mock hurt. “Unbelievable. Betrayed by my own son. This is a new low.”

You chuckle, shaking your head, and for the first time, it feels easy. Comfortable. Like maybe, just maybe, you don’t have to keep fighting him off.

“Hey,” Tony says, his tone shifting to something softer. “Thanks for letting me in. I know it wasn’t easy.”

You meet his gaze, feeling that familiar vulnerability creeping in, but this time, you don’t shy away. “Thanks for not giving up,” you reply quietly. “I know I’m not the easiest person to deal with.”

Tony chuckles, reaching over to ruffle your hair. “Nah, you’re a piece of cake. Besides, I’ve got a lot of time to make up for.”

You smile, a real one this time, feeling a warmth settle in your chest. For the first time, you allow yourself to hope that maybe, just maybe, things are going to be okay.

It’s supposed to be a routine mission. Just another intel-gathering run, in and out, with minimal risk. Tony had waved it off as no big deal before he left, throwing you a smirk and saying, “Just another day in the office.” But that was hours ago. And now, as you sit in the dim glow of the living room, watching the news report blaring on the screen, dread twists deep in your gut.

You watch the shaky footage of Iron Man fighting, and this time, it’s different. He’s outnumbered, missiles tearing through the air, beams of energy slicing through the smoke and chaos. The news anchor’s voice breaks as they report the intensity of the fight, how Iron Man was last seen plunging out of the sky after a heavy hit. For a terrifying moment, you catch a glimpse of him falling, his suit battered, smoking, before the feed cuts out entirely.

Your heart stops, and a painful tightness fills your chest. The hours that follow are a blur of pacing, every second dragging longer than the last. You’re used to him going out on missions, used to the danger that comes with being Tony Stark’s son. But this… this is different. This isn’t the usual playful bravado, the usual cocky promises that he’ll be home for dinner. This is life or death, and for the first time, you’re faced with the horrifying thought that he might not make it back.

After what feels like an eternity, the front door finally opens. You spin around, heart pounding, and there he is, looking worse for wear but alive. He’s moving a bit stiffly, his armor scratched and dented, his face smudged with dirt and a few new cuts. But he’s here.

Before he can say a word, you rush toward him, the flood of relief hitting you so hard that you barely register the fact that you’re moving, throwing yourself into his arms. Your grip is tight, like if you let go, he’ll disappear. You don’t even realize you’re trembling until you feel his arms close around you, holding you just as tightly.

“Hey, hey,” Tony says, his voice soft, touched with surprise but warm. “I’m okay, kid. I’m here.”

You pull back just enough to look at him, your eyes shining with unshed tears, and he’s looking at you with an expression so full of gentle understanding that it makes you feel like a kid again, vulnerable and desperate. Without thinking, the word slips out, raw and unguarded.

“Dad…” you whisper, voice breaking slightly, “don’t ever… don’t ever do that again. I thought… I thought I was going to lose you.”

Tony’s face softens, his own eyes welling up. He’s silent for a moment, as if he’s savoring the word, the weight of it finally hitting home. His hand comes up to rest on your shoulder, his grip firm but gentle, grounding you.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, his voice rough with emotion. “I didn’t mean to scare you like that. But I’m here, okay? I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

You nod, the tears slipping down your cheeks now, and Tony pulls you in again, holding you tightly, his hand running gently over your back. It’s the first time you’ve let yourself fully embrace him, the first time you’ve allowed yourself to lean into his strength, to accept the warmth he’s been trying so hard to offer. And as you stand there, held in his arms, a sense of peace settles over you, soft and comforting, melting the last of your walls away.

After a long moment, he pulls back just enough to meet your gaze, a tear slipping down his own cheek as he smiles, eyes bright. “You called me ‘Dad,’” he says softly, his voice full of wonder, as if he’s just received the greatest gift in the world.

You give a small, watery smile, wiping at your eyes. “Yeah, well… don’t get used to it,” you mumble, but there’s no heat behind the words, only affection, only gratitude.

He chuckles, pulling you back into a hug, and you feel his hand rest on the back of your head, his grip firm and reassuring. “I’m already used to it,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. “And I’m not letting you go, kid. Not ever.”

In that moment, you realize that this is what home feels like—right here, safe in his arms, with nothing left to fear.

I'll never get tired of familyman!Tony I swear.

[skeletboi]

Part 11 of the Intridimensional AU!

New to this? Start here!

Previous /// Next

_________________________________________

Fiddleford opened the door to see Ford half-dragging Stan towards the house.

“Lemme help ya, Ford, those stairs are gonna be a doozy.” He said, making his way towards them.

“We got it. I feel like I would crush you if I fell over.” Stan responded before Ford could say anything.

“Hey now, I'm a lot stronger than I look.” Fiddleford said with a bright smile.

“It's true.” Ford added. “He's like an ant, I've seen him carry things ten times his size without even breaking a sweat.”

“Smart, strong, and a southern accent? Where did you find him? College? Maybe I should go to college.” Stan said, half to himself.

Ford let up his grip on Stan, nearly knocking him over.

“Right, right! No hitting on the assistant.” Stan mumbled as he attempted to catch his balance.

Fiddleford chuckled as helped them up the stairs.

“Ya never told me he was a charmer, Ford.” He said as they made it to the door.

“That's because he isn't.” Ford deadpanned.

Stan opened his mouth to respond, but forgot what he was going to say as they entered the house.

“Damn. This is exactly what I should have expected.” He said as the other two helped him sit on a nearby chair.

“What's that supposed to mean?” Ford said, at the same time Fiddleford said “That's ‘zactly what I said when I came here!”

Ford and Fiddleford looked at eachother and Stan laughed.

“Anyways, lemme get a look at yer injuries. Ford told me he tried ta patch ya up, but I've seen his work, and I ain't impressed.” Fiddleford said, grabbing a nearby first aid kit and putting on a pair of rubber gloves.

“Hey!” Ford said, defensively.

“Ya know what I mean, Stanford. Go fetch me some of that magic goop yer always usin’.”

Ford frowned, but left to go find said ‘magic goop’.

“Damn, he never would of listened to me if I said that. He really does like you.” Stan mumbled.

Fiddleford ignored that, but Stan didn't miss the way his cheeks reddened.

“I'd really rather you'd go to a hospital, friend. This really ain't lookin’ good.” He said instead.

“Yeah, yeah. Hospital-schmospital. What are we going to tell them? We were just fucking around and I lost my leg and got a bullet in the arm?”

“Bullet in yer arm? I thought it was jus’ the leg.” Fiddleford said with a frown as he looked up at Stan.

“It was just the leg when Ford found me, but then we got shot at near the border of Arizona.” Stan explained.

“You-” Fiddleford started, then sighed. “Does catastrophe run in the family?”

“Yes.” Ford and Stan said at the same time as Ford reentered the room.

Fiddleford huffed out a laugh.

“Well, least I know what to expect, then.”

“That makes one of us.” Ford mumbled handing a small unmarked container to Fiddleford.

Fiddleford put it to the side and started to unwrap the gauze on Stan's leg.

“Take yer jacket off, I gotta check on that bullet wound, too.” He said.

Stan did as he was told and watched with mild interest as Fiddleford finished removing the gauze.

“Darnit, Stanford. All them PhDs and not a single one of ‘em in medicine.” He mumbled as he opened the unmarked container.

“I had better things to do.” Ford responded.

“Doncha always.” Fiddleford mumbled, and Stan didn't miss the fondness in his tone.

Fiddleford took some of the substance from the container and made to put it on the wound when Stan stopped him.

“Wait, wait! What the hell is that shit?” He asked, put off by the substance's eerie glow.

“That's quite interesting, actually!” Ford said, his face lighting up. “It's a healing potion I received from a forest nymph after they found me passed out in the woods a few years ago!”

Stan frowned, but nodded to Fiddleford, letting him know he could apply it. Fiddleford did so, and Stan let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

“What the fuck, Ford?! That shit is amazing! Why didn’t you bring it to New Mexico?!” Stan said, looking from his leg to Ford.

“Oh, right. I wasn't sure if I should bring it on the plane, it emits a small amount of radiation that has the potential to mess with certain radio signals.” Ford explained.

Stan glared at him.

“It's perfectly safe! I've used it dozens of times!”

“That doesn't make it safe, Stanford!” Stan responded, nonplussed.

“That's what I'm always sayin’, but stubbornness also runs in the family, I reckon.” Fiddleford said.

“Fiddleford refuses to use it, but I find it quite helpful.” Ford said.

“Whatever.” Stan said with a sigh. “It's probably just as bad as any other substance I've used, so it doesn't really matter. At least it works.”

“That's the spirit! Now lemme get a look at yer arm.” Fiddleford said, moving to Stan's side to start unwrapping the gauze there.

“That one isn't too bad, probably doesn't need radioactive magic goop.” Stan said.

“Ain't too bad?! I reckon the bullet is still in yer arm, Stanley!” Fiddleford said, moving Stan's arm this way and that as he looked for an exit wound.

“Probably, but I doubt those assholes are smart enough to poison their bullets, so it's fine. I’ve had a bullet in my thigh for a few years now and I barely notice it anymore.” Stan said.

“Jesus fuck, Stanley.” Ford mumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Language, Stanford.” Fiddleford responded.

“Language?! Stan hasn't said a single sentence without a swear word since we arrived!” Ford said, sounding a bit like a petulant child.

“He's missin’ a leg, Stanford. That’s a purdy good excuse.” Fiddleford replied.

Ford frowned, but didn't bother arguing.

“Lemme go grab the smaller magnet gun prototype, I betcha I can remove it that way.” Fiddleford said, standing up and removing his rubber gloves.

“That sounds fucking awful.” Stan replied.

“It's either the magnet gun or tweezer and a scalpel. Your choice.” Ford said.

“Right, nerd magic it is.” Stan sighed.

Fiddleford huffed out a laugh and left to grab the magnet gun.

“So he's cute.” Stan said when Fiddleford's footsteps faded.

“Fuck you.” Ford said, burying his face in his hands as Stan laughed.

“Ya know, married or not, I'm pretty damn sure he has a crush on you, too.” Stan said as his laughter died down.

“That doesn't matter, Stanley. I told you he would be moving back to Palo Alto soon enough.” Ford said, dropping his hands from his face with a sigh.

“All grown up and becoming a homewrecker, who coulda guessed.” Stan mused.

“I swear to god, Stanley…” Ford started, but stopped when he heard Fiddleford's footsteps down the hall.

Stan smiled innocently as Fiddleford rounded the corner.

“I was gone for one whole minute and y'all already fightin’?” Fiddleford asked.

“Not fighting, really, just disagreeing.” Ford said, sounding tired.

“Well, close ‘nough. Now looky here, I got the magnet gun, but I also brought my blueprints for a robit leg. I'll hafta take some measurements, but I think I was purdy darn close already.” Fiddleford said, setting the magnet gun down on a nearby shelf and handing the blueprints over to Stan.

Stan unfolded the paper and grinned.

“Peg leg! Hell yeah! How did you know?!” He asked, squinting at the design.

“Yer brother told me you'd prefer that over my usual designs.” Fiddleford said, putting on a new pair of gloves.

Stan glanced over at Ford, who was staring at the far wall and pretending not to listen. He shook his head and smiled as a warmth bloomed in his chest, but turned his attention back to Fiddleford when he heard a low hum.

“This is gonna hurt, but it'll only take ‘bout a second.” Fiddleford said, gently taking Stan's arm and holding up the magnet gun.

Stan nodded, setting down the blueprints and clenching his fist. He motioned for Fiddleford to continue.

Fiddleford looked a bit like he was about to pass out, but his hands were steady as he lined the magnet gun up with the bullet wound.

There was a click, a whirring sound, and a shot of white-hot pain, then it was over.

“That wasn't so bad.” Stan said, but the pain in his voice said otherwise.

“Sorry, Stanley. I jus’ gotta clean it up a bit then we can use more that magic goop.” Fiddleford said.

He sounded so genuinely apologetic that Stan was sure he could hear a layer of ice crack around his heart.

“No worries, Fidds! You can always kiss it to make it better!” He replied with a laugh.

“Stanley!” Ford said, his voice cracking.

Fiddleford just laughed it off and started the process of cleaning around the wound.

Stan used his free hand to pick up the blueprints again, looking over them carefully as Fiddleford worked. He glanced up at Ford when he felt eyes on him and motioned for Ford to join him when he saw the curious look on his face. Ford obliged and stepped behind Stan to look over his shoulder at the blueprints.

“Impressive as always, Fiddleford.” Ford said, and Stan didn't miss the way Fiddleford's hands stilled for a moment at the compliment.

“Thank ya, Ford. I'll prolly have a prototype by tomorra that we can try out.” Fiddleford replied with a nervous smile.

It took all of Stan’s willpower not to roll his eyes.

Running from gangsters might actually be less painful than dealing with the unresolved tension between these nerds. He thought idly, but he couldn't deny that he felt more at home here than he had in years.

___________________________________________

Oh, these boys. I love them.

That's all I got.

Previous /// Next

Also on ao3! Here!

[kazxraval]

The relative silence on the ship felt like some kind of trap. For all the racket Kaz made, no footsteps slapped across the deck. No search parties roared and shouted for a piece of anyone. Thankfully. Without any real way to protect himself, the current injuries Kaz carried would be easy to attack and disable. Next time, would he wake again in the moldy old bedroom on a boat? Or not at all.

Kaz comforted with a simple idea: it meant Emre possibly stalked through the ship. Not as a roadman. As a soldier? A form Emre gave shape to as they talked in the grotto. A shadow Kaz knew of but never saw before. Not fully. Perhaps seen in bits and pieces. Parts of a whole that changed everything.

In the supply room, Kaz used the sharp edge of a desk to try and escape the zip tie around his wrists. When the light under the crack of the door broke up to reveal movement on the other side, he stopped sawing and reached for the first thing his restricted hands found.

The door was flung open. Blurred vision instantly sharpened. Pain in his side forgotten enough for his lungs to expand with an excited breath. Tongue nudged at the open crack in his upper lip, which had an irresistible taste of metallic bruises. At first, he croaked: "You're okay?" A reasonable question as Emre was covered in blood. A veritable Jackson Pollock of blood splatter on his shirt, the left side of his face and neck. Sunny freckles and moles had bright crimson counterparts. Thicker stray stripes of red across the belly, a pool of the stuff near his shirt collar. Dried patches of blood heavier around the wrists and faded up to the elbows. Once he knew Emre was indeed uninjured, the blood became rubies lavished adoringly on a Mughal prince. "Thought you'd never find me." An audible exhale, a smile brighter than any he'd felt in a long, long time. Favorite. Beautiful one, the only one. "Get me out of this," he whispered and held out his wrists, the skin cut up and rubbed raw with the zip tie still harshly cinched. "This fucking thing is tough as hell to take off."

"They had me in a room downstairs but I got out. If I didn't find you, I was gonna turn the boat around. Go back for you." He ducked to rest a cheek against Emre's as he waited to have his hands freed. "What did they do to you." Quiet enough to hear the brush of their beards together, and his lips left a wet dab of blood on Emre's earlobe as Kaz whispered again. "Did you kill them all?"

Once Emre freed his hands, he went back to items on the shelf. Kaz had been able to snap open a case, and now he removed what was inside. "It's a speargun." Never held one before, and it felt sleeker and light than imagined. "Fucking wild, hm? Can't believe people fish with this shit. Cheating, isn't it." A spear was pulled from the case and Kaz figured out how to load it into the barrel. "Still got the axe?" They didn't have a ton of time to rummage through the place. Kaz quickly scanned higher on the shelf. "There's some big, ugly looking hooks up here. A chain, a winch that could knock someone's head off..."

Kaz opened his mouth for more ideas but the boat tipped unexpectedly. A loud thunk! rattled the bones of the ship. He grabbed onto the shelf in front of him to stabilize, as he also tried to give Emre a hand. However, the ship rocked and Kaz was knocked against another shelf that rained its contents down on top of him.

Kaz looked to the ceiling above. "What are those stupid fuckers doing." Didn't take a captain to determine the ship's engine had shut down. (Or manually shut down?) A bare light in the room flickered before extinguishing. "The engine." Kaz pushed away a few boxes and heavier canvas bags of supplies that dropped on him. He planned out the best and least painful way to get back up on his feet.

"Really need to get out of here. We can see who's left. Maybe start the engine again on our own, get back to land." Kaz moved to the door, an indication he wanted to lead the way. "Anything else I should worry about on the other side of this door?" A beat. "We, I mean."

As Emre waited for the boat to set sail, he couldn't help thinking about Georgina's supposed last words to him: wish you'd gone to dinner now, don't you.

Maybe true, but also Emre suspected there likely was no 'dinner'. Kaz seemed about as hateful towards this Georgina as he was towards his parents; but Georgina claimed to love Kaz - something his parents likely never did. Or never in a way that Kaz could believe. Could Kaz have once...believed in Georgie's care?

So Georgina was likely a big liar, and possibly even betrayed Kaz. Or hurt Kaz irreparably, which was bad enough. It made bile rise in Emre's throat to think he'd almost done to same to Kaz too. One more to add in a long trail of betrayals if Emre hadn't done everything he could to repair things. And for Kaz to even allow Emre a chance to repair...with this new context, it took Emre's breath away.

Feroze on the walkie talkie. Time to set sail, and Feroze mentioned something about 'cargo'. Couldn't find 'Taylor'. An urgency to set sail, and it seemed Georgie agreed.

An engine rumbled - so it had enough petrol left in Seattle to motor the thing, interesting. Fuel had to be precious though. Georgina and her 2IC were not setting sail on a luxury yacht for fun. Georgina wanted to get to her destination in style, to impress. But...were they headed to the mainland, or further out to sea?

Regardless, this all meant that Kaz was definitely on-board.

Feroze headed up to the bridge, leaving a guard patrolling the bow. Zaid heafd a ruckus below deck. A constant, if slightly erratic - BOOF. BAFF - something constantly slamming into a barrier. The muffled sound of Georgina's high-pitched voice, petulant and annoyed.

And then - a heavy roar that uncoiled a sudden liquid-heat deep in Emre's belly. The confirmation, the forcefulness of a man who could never give up. Not when it was important. Not when it was...

...Emre smiled. A length of thin silk boat-rope around the guard's neck made for silent disposal. He could go down to save Kaz now, but Emre wanted to do better.

He swung up to the bridge deck and easily located the Captain, having set course and just popping to his cabin. Giving Emre the perfect opportunity to apprehend the poor bugger, leave him bleeding on the floor and bleating for help. Emre ducked behind the door when Feroze entered the cabin with true shock at the sight of the Captain. Emre's teeth-whistle made Feroze spin and to his credit, stared at Emre like he was seeing a ghost.

Emre was on Feroze, knife hilt connecting with Feroze's temple, bearing forward so the younger man slipped in the Captain's blood and fell. Emre hauled him back up, knife at his throat. "Call your girlfriend," Emre demanded. "Tell her there's a problem she's got to deal with." That would buy Kaz some more time. "Do as I say or you're next, Feroze. Tired of your games, tired of you."

"You'll pay for this," Feroze sneered, after he obeyed Emre's order. Still trying to look derisive and smug. Up-close, Emre realized he didn't look a damn thing like Kaz. "You and your butt-buddy, I don't get why he's so -"

Emre didn't let Feroze finish. Kaz wouldn't have, was Emre's reasoning. Kaz, for once, didn't seem to care about getting answers here, only getting out. Run, escape, run. Emre was in-tune with this now, finally.

Georgina's arrival to the bridge was almost anti-climactic. Emre didn't give her time to scream, just knocked her out, leaving her tied on the bridge for now.

"Don't move, I'll be back for you," Emre told the Captain, shutting his cabin door after dragging Feroze's unconscious body out, throwing it over the side as well. Feroze didn't make it into the water; he landed on the lower deck, arm at an odd angle. Oops. Emre hopped back down to the bridge deck, just in time to see someone duck behind a small door.

Another guard? Or - Emre poised his knife, then flung the door open to find -

"Kaz." my darling, meri pyaar, my Kaz, mine. Emre couldn't help his sudden, bloody grin. A tight, screaming thrill bolting through him, at the sight. Kaz looking more dishevelled than his carelessly breezy look, angling his body in tense holds that betrayed the brutal beating he'd just survived. Ribs likely cracked. Fingers crooked. Blood staining his nose and cheek, split lip, a swollen eye, bruises mapping his body.

He was beautiful.

A nod to Kaz's choice of weapon. "What you gonna do with that then, my love?"

[hauntingblue]

ENIES LOBBY TIME!!!

Sanji's face here.... he Knows he is going to fuck him up

THAT IS SANJI??? 😨

Holding them in my hands again....

Sanji struck a nerve there akdjaoajkq

Increible trio btw.... look at the evidence

............ me next please 🙏🏻

That is love right there I can see it

What if we all killed ourselves (except usopp is telling her the opposite ajahkdhsakjd)

I need sanji to go insane like this more often.... after the timeskip it doesn't happen as much and I love to see him suffering

This is so funny.... there is no denying to her face card

"It's not like she actually wants to die" well yes she does, but no because you know she doesn't really. It is in a quantum state right now

Luffy is such a menace akdhaksjkaak

TELL EM!!!! THAT'S MY GIRL!!!!

Look at franky worrying about robin.... do not fret luffy is coming and he will NOT lose!!!!!

This is zoro remarking how usopps fear of being left behind makes no sense.... this is so good.....

This is so endearing but it also breaks my heart....

Who is that sultry binch... (I don't recall this attack AT ALL and i'm sure we never see it again)

They botched his bbl.... 😔😔😔

Luffy's face here... he was convinced she wanted to go with them but was compelled to do otherwise but no.... he thought wrong and he can't fight to her.... I've just been staring at this page for minutes like damn.

Nevermind.... this is something your mother would say "you want to die??? Just wash the dishes and you can do whatever you want later"

"If you wanna die, or whatever...." this is so good like he knows what he is doing.... he Knows.... look at her face. After knowing how luffy and ace were as kids this just makes more sense (oda didn't think about this i'm sure but damn does it fit) also the slight manipulation.... look at all of us we're already here and look how we all miss you already... you know that post about luffy being selfish but his selfishness is jusg kindness to others... yesh

Thinking about robin's cinderella lifestyle.... why did her mother leave her with that aunt and why didn't some archeologist take her in?? Because she doesn't complain about anything just like she doesn't respond when that mother accused her of hitting her child without reason... that's so fucked

Alright this is funny (and also true)... I'm sorry fellow women....

*Justin Bieber voice* I like your laugh... dereishi shishishi

SHE'S GONNA ASK HER MOM TO TAKE HER TO THE SEA WITH HER??? LIKE SHE DOES AFTER WITH LUFFY??? MY GOD!!! I just bursted into tears like I got punched in the nose I can't keep going ajdhakajk

I lied i can keep going... but head in my hands over this....

Find out how my emotional stability survives this arc in ennies lobby part 2. coming soon

[the-moogle-of-your-nightmares]

one thing i was not at all prepared for about having to go without glasses for a week is how the navigating my environment itself isn't a huge barrier--i have to be really slow and careful and it's annoying, but it hasn't actually stopped me from doing things including in the 'god this is going to be a hassle, i don't even want to start' way--but the major loss/change in sensory input as well as Oh God the HUD is Wrong is apparently a huge depression trigger. replacements cannot happen soon enough

[celestial-sapphicss]

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