#his pit is more bright and beautiful than what my future could ever be..

[hyunpic]

HYUNJIN | 231112 INKIGAYO

[witchezandwonderz]

Whispers of the Seer

Pairing: Ivar x Reader

Word Count: 1.8 k

Ivar’s fist thundered onto the wooden table before him, in turn almost breaking it clean in half. The sudden noise caused your breath to catch and your heart to flutter slightly, although you steadied yourself in a desperate attempt to show as little emotion as possible.

He looked at you, curiosity clouding him. He wanted a reaction from you. In fact, he could almost say that he needed one, for you had shown not an ounce of feeling since he had met you a mere days before. Ivar was used to evoking emotional reactions; it was fair to say that most, if not all residents of Kettegat were scared of Ivar, and his unpredictable ways. You were different.

You had appeared in the dead of night days before, for you had been experiencing the most intense, vivid visions. You had experienced visions since you were a mere child. Your mother and father had kept it quiet, as they knew what would happen if you were found to be a seer. They were not ready to let go of their little girl.

But, as you grew older, so did your visions and connections. You felt yourself growing more powerful, and you wanted to know more. You ran away from home once you felt restricted; you knew that your parents had your best interests at heart, but the gods had chosen you, and that was more special than any human love you felt.

You had visions of people often, both ones whom you recognised, and whom you had never seen before. Ivar was the first that you felt compelled to seek and guide. His bright blue eyes were scratched into your memory, and you felt the need to be close to him. As close as possible. You had always seen Ivar, since you were a child, but not often; a few times a year, perhaps. You did not know his name, you only knew what you saw, and that was not a lot. As you grew older, you pieced information about him together as though it were a puzzle.

You had known that his father, Ragnar Lothbrok had died; that night, you lay as you saw a brief picture of Ragnar in a snake pit. Since that night, your visions of Ivar became more intense and frequent than ever before and you knew that it was finally time to go and visit Ivar, and tell him everything.

“Do you know who I am?” Ivar's voice was low, venomous, but with a thread of curiosity woven through it. “What I am capable of?”

You tilted your head slightly, your hands clasped before you. “I do,” you replied, your tone even. “I know more of you than most, Ivar Ragnarsson. I know the weight of your pain, the fire of your ambition. And I know what the gods have shown me of your future.”

The room grew still, the air charged with unspoken tension.

Ivar breathed, a wide grin stubbornly stood on his lips as his eyes bore into you. Using both hands to grip the steel chair in front of you, you leant forward, ensuring to not break eye contact.

His eyes squinted slightly. “How convenient,” he began, his voice dripping with sarcasm, “that the gods have sent me a seer—one who just so happens to be the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

You stiffened but kept your composure, your hands remaining clasped before you.

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, his grin widening as he spoke. “Do you know how many women have tried to impress me? How many have thrown themselves at me, hoping to worm their way into my favour?” He paused, his eyes narrowing slightly. “And yet none of them were what I wanted. Not one of them matched the image in my mind of what the gods should send me. And now, here you are.” He peered up at you, expecting some sort of reaction. But much to his dismay, you stared at him with the same blank expression, despite your thundering heartbeat.

“I’m supposed to believe,” he continued, his voice now low and sharp, “that out of all the women in all the kingdoms, the one who stands before me now—the perfect match for my tastes, my desires—was sent here by the gods?” He laughed bitterly, shaking his head again. “It sounds like a story a fool would believe.”

Your eyes narrowed, "you are a fool to think that the gods are so against you." You snapped, the echo of your works ricocheting throughout the room. Ivar's head consequently snapped up, his eyes widening due to the sheer shock of how you would dare to speak to him in such a way. His lips curved into a small smile; he liked it.

Ivar nodded his head, in turn encouraging you to continue. To which, you obliged. "Ivar, when your father died, my visions got stronger. I have always seen you, since I was a child. The gods are trying to tell me something. Destiny is not kind, Ivar. But it is powerful. And the gods do not make mistakes. I have seen you, in every vision, as clearly as I see you now. You are everything I have ever pictured, everything I have ever longed for, even when I didn’t understand what it meant. And I believe they sent me here because we are meant to shape each other’s fates." Your words came tumbling in a chaotic manner. This is the first time that you had shown any slight inkling of being a human being.

Ivar's grip tightened on the table in front of him. Silence rang in the air, as he quite clearly fought with his thoughts. You almost turned around and walked away, however, Ivar's sudden words broke the quietness.

"Everything you have ever longed for, you say?" His words were low, and teasing. You looked up at him in disbelief; after all that time, and all that tension, that was all that that he could think of?

"You do not understand both the weight and importance of my words." You shook your head. "You must start taking life seriously now, Ivar. You need to focus, if you want to be a leader." You spoke loudly, frustration soaring through your body.

Ivar was both shocked and overwhelmed. He did not understand why he was allowing someone to speak to him in such a way, and yet he knew exactly why. You were everything that he had ever dreamed of, and more. You were telling him your exact thoughts and feelings, while also making him feel as though he were the most important person in the world, and he could not fathom why.

"Prove it to me. Prove that you are who you say." He demanded, now a sense of seriousness planted on his face. He looked at you expectantly, an arrogance in his demeanour, in an attempt to mask his vulnerability.

You stepped forward, closing the distance between you, not faltering in the face of his simmering anger. You had seen his past—his childhood, his memories. The pieces of him that no one else knew, that he himself had buried. It was now time to lay them bare. You began to tell him stories of his childhood; his mother telling him stories about the gods, waiting for his father to come home.

"Lucky guess, perhaps." He said, his eyes darting between your eyes and lips.

You took a deep breathe. "Fine." You said. "You want something more personal?" You asked, your eyes peering up at him. He nodded in response, clearly amused. "You remember the first time it happened," you whispered, watching his face closely. " She was little, and blonde, the complete opposite to me. The first time you gave yourself to someone, thinking it would make you feel more… more like a man. More powerful. But it didn’t. It didn’t feel the way you thought it would. It was messy, uncertain, and for all the bravado you showed, there was a deep, gnawing loneliness underneath. It wasn’t just about taking what you wanted. It was about seeking something more—seeking connection, seeking validation. But that connection didn’t come from anyone but yourself."

Ivar's jaw clenched, he could not believe that you knew the details of his life- personal details, personal memories. His lips parted, as though he had intended to speak. He however, did not.

"And all the women that came after that, and I believe that there were many, were not good enough. You did not enjoy them, any of them." Your voice became low, as you stepped forward, closing the gap between you.

His gaze intensified, a mixture of confusion, longing, and something else—something dangerous—flaring in his eyes.

You smiled softly, a confident smirk curling at the corners of your lips. “You’ve always been searching for me, Ivar. And now, here I am, standing before you. No other woman could ever compare to what we’re meant to have. To what we’ve always had.”

In one swift motion, he reached for your waist and pulled you towards him. He looked at you for a moment, his breath hitching and his body stiffening for a moment. And then, just like that, his lips crashed onto yours with an intensity that left no room for hesitation or doubt.

The kiss was hungry, desperate. His hands found their way to your back, pulling you into him, his touch urgent and possessive. Your knees weakened at his actions, for his touch felt right, and his possessiveness was something that you yearned for.

Your hands tangled in his hair, deepening the kiss as the heat between you both soared higher.

Ivar pulled away just enough to look at you, his lips swollen, eyes dark and searching. He stared at you, as though trying to memorise the very essence of you in that moment. “Do you know what you’ve done?” he rasped, his voice husky, thick with desire and something else—something deeper. No woman had ever made him feel this way; he had never wanted someone so much, respected someone so much.

You barely had time to respond before he kissed you again, more urgently this time, his mouth claiming yours with a raw intensity that left no room for hesitation. His hands moved to the small of your back, lifting you up against him, the need to be closer, to feel every part of you against him growing unbearable.

He pulled away suddenly, causing your eyes to flutter open as you look up at him. His eyes darkened, "You will guide me." He stated, causing you to in turn nod your head. His grip on your waist tightened. "You are mine." He stated, his words laced with emotion. His words caused your stomach to erupt with a feeling unfamiliar to you, nervousness.

“I’ll kill anyone who dares go near you,” he growled. You could feel the raw intensity in his words, the promise of violence that came with them. You had proven yourself to him and it was as though he saw you as something precious, something irreplaceable, and he would protect you with every ounce of his being.

“And if anyone dares doubt your visions,” he continued, his voice low, “if they question the gods or the fate that binds us, they’ll meet the same fate. No one will ever dare challenge you or the truth you carry. No one will harm you.”

[catdracox]

TFA Sidearm - Live a Little

(Short story below the read me/keep reading.)

"You can live a little, you know. Like you used to."

That's what she said.

Sideswipe rolled his eyes as he watched Strongarm walk along the edge of the rooftop of the building from where he sat. It was just the two of them, thanking Primus for Cheetor taking the new students (Nightbeat, Siren and Hosehead) out on their last night patrol. Last thing he wants is distractions from three obnoxious teens and a officer that acts like a teen.

The two Autobots were out in one of Iacon's most beautiful twilight nights, where the stars shined at their brightest and the faintest peak of magenta could be seen. It was like this night came as a tangible whisper to the millions of lights in the sky.

It reminded Sideswipe of the times in his younger days, where he would try and pull the greatest stunt ever on special nights like this.

"Care to join me?"

He looked up to see Strongarm staring at him with a simple, yet inviting smile.

He just sighs. "Strongarm, I…I know things have been rocky since your return, and I don't think I'll have enough to say for-"

"Sideswipe, I know things have changed." She looked at him, not keeping her attention on where she's going anymore. "I changed, you changed. But is that really stopping us? We need to look forward to-"

Her foot didn't register its calculation when it came down slightly off-kilter on the edge and she felt her weight shift more to the right where, below her, a hard, metal pavement awaited.

But before anything could happen, a firm but gentle arm wrapped itself around her, a hand pressed firmly on her waist as she was pilled towards the mech that saved her.

Sideswipe felt his body go into overdrive. 30,000 stellar cycles on the force will do that. As soon as he saw Strongarm's body falter in one way, his instincts reacted and he pulled her away from the roof's edge, wrapping his arm protectively around her and brought her closer to his frame.

The two locked optics on each other for a long time, neither one making a move. Then Strongarm gave a small grin, one Sideswipe missed to the pits and back.

"Want to dance?"

He blinked. Dance? Is she fragging with me?! She could have died and yet here she was, acting like it never happened and going about it like normal.

Sideswipe looked at her, deadpanned. "You can't be serious."

She grinned more. "And what if I'm not?"

This femme, I swear… While he wouldn't say it, he missed how the two of them would be out at night, her chasing him in the darkest hours, just enjoying the sounds of their roaring engines.

He just pulled her closer, their bright optics illuminating their faces as he spoke sternly: "Let's see if you can keep up."

She smiles. "I plan to~"

(God, this felt like forever! I wanted to do a TFA Sidearm piece for a while. And I think TFA Strongarm might get a future ref sheet from me [and she might get a different look, not sure yet]. And this maybe just be an excuse to draw TFA Sideswipe as well, cause….well, Sideswipe is my favorite. The background was haphazardly put together.

Also, TFA Strongarm is a bit taller than TFA Sideswipe, thanks to some friends of mine on Discord for planting that idea in my head.

And the dialogue is something that I wanted to add. It may or may not be related to a fic I'm planning on making. We'll see.)

[jaewrotethis]

12- Power...

I watched the sun rise. It was simply the most beautiful sight of light I’ve ever seen in my life. Nothing like anything I’ve ever even known. The sunbeams rose up first, in blues and yellows, a light show of misty colors gently and subtly turning the night sky blue. The sun rose up orange and red. Colors of yellow, blue, green, and purple shone in a semi-circle rainbow dancing around the sun. Purely incredible. The sun in this land is different. It’s brighter. Neon red, and bright orange, but shines on the land as if it were white, not like the normal yellow sun back home at all.

The early day owns the land now. I sit yet again on the rocking chair, after picking it up from flipping it over, twice. My knees to my chest. The fire outside burns a white smoke into the air, as it is only hot ashes now. Birds sing in the distance, occasionally flying by my window. Slugs and other hairy bugs fall through the holes in the ceiling and drop, disturbing me so. I find myself enjoying the quiet mid-morning. The air is fresh. It is so different from back home. Almost as if it is magical itself.

I don’t feel tired, though my eyes burn. They stick to the floor as I hum a favorite tune to myself. A song I used to listen to on repeat in my old bedroom. When I was only fourteen and I would lock the door, blast my headphones and block out the entire world. The tune reminds me of my purple room. I hadn’t been there since the day the social workers came and forced me into their van. The memory fires up the rage in my chest and reflex tells me Pan is to blame.

My nerves are suddenly shocked awake by a scream. A scream of pain and terror. My humming cut short, same as my rocking on the chair as I lift my head from my knees. I look to the window. The terror scream pierces again, a voice is pleading. Someone is asking for his life in a panicked, hysterical shout. I jump from the chair, grabbing the window sill and looking at the ground below. The screaming comes from a single boy, begging in a rage for mercy.

The boy sits on his knees, closer to the tree than the leftover fire pit. His hands pressing to his stomach and his head down. Peter Pan stands a few feet in front of the boy, clearly the cause of the boys screams. Four other boys stand on either sides, watching. I hear Pan’s voice in a shout at the boy on the floor but I can’t make out his words. The boy on the floor shouts back. Pan pulls back his own hand and throws his arm at him like he’s whipping something invisible. But it’s not invisible. It’s a blue, it’s bright. And it’s powerful. A blue flash of light, long and skinny is thrown from Pan’s hand and strikes the boy on the floor.

Everything slows down as I watch the light fly from Pan’s palm. All my attention, all my focus goes to the light. Eyes wide, I watch it intensely, becoming so interested in it for the short moment it is whipping, that it’s all I want. Forget killing Pan, forget revenge, forget the horrible past and the unsure future. Forget the fear of being captured and the hunger of my stomach, forget everything. All I want, all I need, is that blue light. I need to know what it is and I just need to feel it for myself. It calls me as if I’ve just found my missing piece. Everything will be complete with that blue light as mine. I look back to the mirror, thinking of the conversation I has last night.

That blue power could be mine? I ask myself.

The boy shouts out in pain again as the light rips into his skin. I snap back to the situation, the blue light retreats back to Pan’s hand. Pan shouts back before throwing his hand again. The light lashes out, striking the boy once more. And once more I ache to know it so badly, I almost reach out to touch the light from way up here. My heart speeding up and my cheeks growing hot with fear and excited curiosity. I look to the branches of the tree. Thick branches on either side of my window, with their own windows. Out of a small one I spot another boy, with light brown hair, looking down at the scene with me. My eyes advert back down to the ground.

Two of the boys that stood aside to watch now walk to the one one the floor being attacked. They grab his crumpled body by his arms, making him bellow out in more pain and stand up right. I clutch the wood of the window hard. I look up to the brown-haired boy in the window who watches with me. He is already looking at me. His eyes meet mine, they’re too brown. Another loud shriek brings both our attention back down to the ground.

The two other boys have walked him closer to Pan and thrown him to Pan’s feet where he sits on his knees. Pan takes a step closer to the boy and leans down to his ear. Pan then brings his own hands to his ears, crossing his arms, releasing bright red flashes of light in each hand. He grabs the red glow in his fists and brings both down to the boy’s neck, slicing his head clean off. It happened too fast for me to actually see what happened, until the boy’s head has hit the ground and rolls away. I watch as Pan decapitates the boy, letting his arms drape to his sides and the rest of the body falls over, dead. I gasp the instant I register what happened, and drop to the floor out of view, my hand over my mouth. I face away from the window, snatching at my own knees for comfort and blinking hard, trying to wake up.

That light can kill. His light killed. I’m next. He’s coming for me next. He’s killing people. Like you’ve never done the same.

I freeze at the sound of her voice. Still not used to it, like I was in the past. I feel foolish for thinking I could best Pan, or ever kill him. He has god-like powers and I’m only alive because he decided so. And yet; I don’t hold my knees for comfort because I’m afraid of death. I hold them because suddenly I fear my own self. That red light was so appealing. The second I saw it released, I wanted to grab it. I wanted to use it. I want it. It called all my attention and I handed it all over, without a second thought. Now that it’s gone, the second thoughts come.

I shouldn’t want something that can kill.

I hold my head, shaking it of all the feelings I felt for that blue and red light, but I can’t let it go. I exhale, letting my head drop and answering the voice.

“The man I killed deserved it,” I say out loud on instinct. Maybe that boy deserved it.

I stand up, avoiding the window. I feel like I’m suffocating, I need to get out of this room, away from this entire place. Away from dangerous magic with a call so loud that I can’t resist it. Looking at the door, bolting to it, I yank it open and run through it. Just as I go through the frame I feel the motion sickness of the magic. I fall to my knees, landing inside the room again. I shake my head, ridding the sick feeling and look up at the trashed room. Before I can get angry about being trapped again, a voice speaks behind me.

“You’re up early,”

I don’t react as I think of what to say, what to do. Fear of the boy bubbles over, but a glare sets in on instinct and anger grows with it. I turn up to look at him.

“Whoa, that stare could kill,” he scoffs, looking down at me. I glance at the door, tempted to run. He eyes the door with me, “Oh, yeah, the enchantment. Can’t have you wondering around Hideout, now...how was your night?” he jokes, referring to the bedroom. I ask a question, to give myself more time to think of what the hell I’m going to do, “Hideout?” “This wonderful tree you’ve spent the last two nights in,” More time, “Enchantment?”

As I ask the question, I can feel it the excited curiosity slowly over taking the anger. The feeling of boredom rising into adventure eating away the rage. That sense of needing to do something, anything to feel the thrill of fun, a curiosity wanting to learn, a wonder needing discovery, all revolving around that magic he used, letting go of anger.

“On the door, yes. This tree is magic,” he says it as if I should already know it, “This whole island is. Neverland is the birthplace of all magic,” Island? “Island?” I’m purely invested in the conversation now. “You didn’t know you’ve been on an island this whole time,” he scoffs again, “My island,” he then shrugs and begins to stalk over to the bed to make him self comfortable. An island. How would I get back to London now? “No, I-I thought...” I trail off. “Neverland is not on any geographical map of your world,” “My world?” I think back to the conversation in the cells below the dirt. I suppose the man in the dark wasn’t lying after all...about any of it. I begin to piece together that this boy is in fact everything the man in the dark warned me about. “You can’t really be that clueless,” he chuckles that stupid amused laugh, “Magic surrounds you-everyone in Neverland as well as every last thing...and there isn’t magic in your world.” “You expect me to believe this is some other world,” “Neverland.” I open my mouth to speak but he shrugs and asks, “Would you like to see?” There’s that sense of excitement surfacing to push me to say yes, though I don’t He stands from the bed, offering me a hand, “Come on, where’s your sense of adventure? I know it’s there somewhere,” His mention of magic calls to every cell in my body so I cross my arms to contain the want. He pushes on,“Come on, I know you want to see what’s out there,” “I saw enough,” He looks at me waiting for an explanation and obvious with his impatience. “I saw you kill that boy,”

He stares at me like he’s expecting me to take his hand anyway. I consider the ‘seduce and kill’ plan again. He’s giving me an opportunity to start it right now. But the knowledge that he could kill me with a simple swipe of his hand leaves me too fearful to decide.

Ask about the light. I hide my wince from the second voice with a question I don’t mean at all, “Did he steal from you or something?”

He looks up at me, a little confused, withdrawing his hand. I look back at him waiting for an answer, then raising my eyebrows when he doesn’t.

“What.” I fake. “Wasn’t expecting that, uh, no, the traitor broke a rule of mine,” he looks away casually. He took a life because a rule was broken! Play nice, or you’re next. “What rule?” I touch the pole that holds the canopy over the bed. “You ask too many questions,” “You don’t give any answers,” I feel my stress building and I think he feels it to when he says, “You don’t have to fear me, Jane. I’m not going to hurt you,” his brown eyes don’t leave mine. I yank on my ever-so-dirty T-shirt, “I recall, two days ago, you throwing me to the dirt, telling me I should fear you,” “As I said, over reaction,” he pauses, “I assure you, I won’t hurt you,” A moment of silence lingers as I try, still, to decide if I believe him or not, and what I’m going to do. He takes my silence as a chance to lure me some more, “Tell me, Jane, ever seen magic?” I blink looking away so he doesn’t see the yearn in my eyes. What was that blue light?! The second voice shouts, frustrated. Again I flinch.

He stands walking to me, his eyebrows knitted as if he knows something, the voice, is bothering me every time she speaks. I stand taller from leaning on the bed, not wanting him towering over me, and especially not wanting him to know what’s going on in my head.

“You mean magic like flying to save girls that fall from buildings, only to kidnap them years later? Yes, I have,” “No,” he leans in close, “Only the ones who jump,” he smirks. “I didn’t-” I stop the trigger, breathing roughly, “I won’t let you antagonize me, I know you’re lying about not knowing why I’m here. You played the music, in the forest, I know it was you,” “Fair enough, Miss Jane,” he laughs to himself again, “My pipes were a gift,” he pulls them from his shirt, as if from no where, “They cast a spell, yes, on anyone I want,” he gives me a look, “I use it to reel new beings through the forest so they don’t get killed before I have a chance to meet them.” he smiles sweetly at me. I drop my face, feeling dumb and confused, yet again, unsure now if he is lying. He lets it go, “I think you could learn to like it here, if you gave it the chance,” “What does it matter if I like it here or not?” “Everyone should like it here,” he smirks, not taking me seriously at all.

It angers me and I know I have to make a decision now. Taking all the information from the man in the cell, from the conversation with Pan yesterday, and this new information now, I decide to get a little more invested while getting what I want from him for once.

“I’ll give it a chance, if you give up all answers.” I say it fully intending to not do so.

His eyebrow goes up and he half smiles. A reaction I take as a win, I got his attention now. For the first time I have some sort of upper hand.

“I cannot give answers I don’t have,” “What do you want with me?” “Power,” Already I lose control of the conversation and falter, “I-is, what does that mean?” “I believe your powers can be something incredible,” he inspires. Again, I stumble, “Why do you think I have some sort of power,” “Oh, I don’t think you do, I believe you do, which is exactly how you have them, and let me say,” he gets closer again, “It’s nearly the strongest I’ve ever seen with my own eyes,” “What?” “You’ve always believed and being in the land of belief, you power is only stronger,”

I look away, grabbing my hair and breathing harshly. Admitting it to myself late at night was the insomnia, but having a conversation about the reality is something else. I curse at how quickly I lost the little control I had.

“I don’t believe you,” I say, going with honesty, weak at how well he holds himself. He laughs, “The irony. You will...I don’t mean to overwhelm you,” he says quietly as I try to gather myself yet again.

He places a hand on my shoulder and I yank away from the sense of his touch. I grab my sides searching for any other emotion to feel besides this lost and lonely sense. Only to come up with that adventure sense, the want for magic sits in my heart as the only other emotion I can find. I inhale through my nose grabbing hold of the powerful feeling so that the loneliness will, ironically, leave me alone.

I open my eyes to find myself convinced that if I have such a power that he speaks of, then that blue and red light will be mine. And it excites me. New emotions sprout from the excitement, and I feel determined as the silence lasts longer and longer. I feel the want to wield that magic so strong that the plans of last night become more plausible, as now I finally have some type of card to hold.

“Tell you what,” he jumps back, opening a hand to the already open door, “You can leave, I’ll have one of the Boys escort you throughout the day and you give Neverland that chance, since,” he shrugs, “I did give answers,” The new determined want gives me a confidence, “Why do you care if I’ve got power or not? If there is some...magic there, do you mean to take it from me? To kill me?” “To take it is not possible,” “Then why bother?” “Why bother with what?” “Why give a fuck about it? About me giving this place a chance and liking it here?” “Be foolish of me to let it go to waste,” “Is that all you care about? Power?” He exhales, looking away as if now he’s getting frustrated, “I care about Neverland. The people on it. I think, possibly, you could be a beneficial addition to our land...maybe,” “Not me,” I challenge him to admit he only wants what I might have for himself. He looks at me, and I know I’ve made him loose his cool finally. “You want to make me a soldier, expendable like the rest of your pawns,” I push it. He laughs quietly, “Everyone here is here by their own choice. I gave them all a way out of their horrid lives and an opportunity to have a real family, where we’ve got each others’ back. We look out for one another, we’re brothers,” “You kill your brothers?” “Traitors.” he shuts down my attitude again. “And you’re offering me that? To be one of you?” I shake my head, “You mean to fool me, you want what I might have,” “I want the better of Neverland,” he spits sternly, “If that means embracing a very pesky human girl, then so be it,” I stare with my arms crossed, debating if he really hasn’t brainwashed any of these boys and if he means what he says. “Like I offered, you can spend a day with the boys, and see for yourself...unless, you’d rather go back home.”

My heart jumps. It’s my chance to leave now. He’s going to let me go home. But the voice rings in my head over and over asking what I have back home waiting for me besides more asylum torture. And I cannot answer it.

“You’d, let me go home?” I say slowly. “You aren’t a prisoner here. Do you think prisoners get rooms like this?” “You mean I’m not anymore.” “Of course not, however,” My heart freezes, waiting for him to say I can’t go home. “To leave is entirely up to you,” “How?” “You’d have to get there yourself,” I bite my tongue at the hit to my ego. “So I am prisoner,” my eyes close and my head drops. “Well, I can show you how to leave...” I look back up at him. “Let’s say, you let the rest of them show you the miracles they got out of Neverland, and if you still want to leave, I’ll show you how to get off the island,” I stare at him, undecided. “Give Neverland just once chance to show you what you’d be missing if you left...” he persuades more.

I still cannot decide that I want to stay, no matter how much the magic calls me I still hate the face of the boy that offers me this deal. I can’t exactly trust that he would take me home...or show me how to. When it comes down to it, all I know is that the only thing to do is to find out more and hope that he would show me how to get home if I play along with his game. And yet the reminder of the horrors that wait back in London surface when I hope to leave.

Home is the asylum. Home is sedatives and Treatments. The weapon drug.

When I don’t answer Pan smiles wickedly and speaks, “I’ll let you think about it, and come find you when the sun sets,” then he’s gone. Vanished right before me.

[hotdamnhunnam]

Jax + 👀⏰🚭

Thanks for your request for my Emoji Fic Fest! 💗

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Up in Smoke

Pairing: Jax Teller x F!Reader Warnings: smut, swearing, overused tropes y’all have already read (friends to lovers + only 1 bed) Word Count: ~1.3k Emoji Prompt: 👀⏰🚭 (key words are in bold)

“What?”

You glare at him and keep your mouth shut. How the fuck dare he ask what.

He went and said it as if he has any right to look so hot when he’s supposed to look like shit. Just sitting there. Sleep-deprived stare, messy ass hair. Ratty old shirt stinking of sweat and dirt and he just doesn’t care. Jax Fucking Teller never looks like shit, not even just a little bit.

Last night he got stuck in a fight and needed somewhere quiet he could crash and hide. As his best friend you somehow got caught in the middle of it. Now you and Jax are cooped up here in this motel out on the roadside. Some unspoken tension rears its ugly head between you two and you’ve no clue how to get rid of it.

Actually you do—you have more than just a clue—you know you need this stupid sexy piece of shit to fucking fuck you.

“How’d you sleep,” you ask without lifting your voice into a question. Your own sleep wasn’t that deep. You’d tossed and turned in every possible direction. On a mattress that felt like the pit of hell—expected nothing less from this motel, given the room was so dirt cheap.

He gives you that signature you’re-a-stupid-whore look which between friends is endearing. Friends or not, coming from him it’s fucking hot. A whole damn kink. “How do you think.”

You cross your arms and scowl. He chose to sleep on a scrappy old towel. “Christ, don’t be a dick about it. I told you to take the blanket but you said you’d be fine on the floor without it.”

Jax ignores that and just pulls a cigarette out. Sticks it in the sweet pink pucker of his mouth. You want to be that cigarette right now. You wish he’d read your mind somehow. Why can’t this big blonde idiot figure it out…?

He takes a puff and looks so hot you might start choking. You can’t handle that today. “Put that away. This room’s non-smoking.”

Snickers at you as his broad shoulders lift up in a slight shrug. “Do I look like I give a fuck?”

You start to fume, the smell of smoke and your own slutty desperation swirling all around the room. “You’re gonna set off the alarm—”

Reach down to yank the cigarette out of his mouth but then he swiftly grabs your arm. That ice-blue fire in his eyes that could do you serious harm. The way you wish he would—he’d rough you up so fucking good… he’s more the fire-breathing dragon than Prince Charming but to you the beast has all the fucking charm.

Last night he’d been a gentleman and had insisted that you take the bed. Today you’re mad ‘cause you had been desperate for him to share the bed with you instead.

He doesn’t know that yet. But he could sense it from the second that you grabbed his cigarette. Jax doesn’t want your lifelong friendship to go up in smoke but he’s been itching to get in your pants for years and if you’re standing here and handing him a ticket… maybe if the sex is epic then it’s worth getting his dick wet. Epic sex is one thing Jax Fucking Teller never regrets.

***************

“Bitch, all you had to do was ask.”

He’s such an ass. That shit is so typical Jax.

He growls it fierce, ridge of his teeth grazing the soft lobe of your ear—thick fingers slide across your slick sensitive clit, seeking the tight heat of your slit—then fucking pierce—he can’t believe he has you here and holy shit—it’s stark how different you appear. He tells himself it’s just a fuck, but no such luck, as something sparks and runs him over like a truck.

Jax Teller never feared the dark but just the light: something that felt too fucking bright. Done so much wrong he has no right. Having you near—this was exactly what he’d feared. Had tried to fight. He’d won last night. He’s losing it with you right here.

The lines between friendship and whatever this is should’ve stayed clear. For fucking years, that was the path he’d tried to steer. Stroking his dick alone in bed, or drowning in another chick he had just met—picturing you instead—that was the closest he could get.

Until you grabbed that motherfucking cigarette.

It’s barely been a minute yet, and you’re already dripping wet. It hits him now that’s how you’ve always been for him. It hits him now that you adore him. That you’d do anything for him.

Hits him in the way you hold him like you’re on the verge of death—the way you lick into the heaven of his kiss with your sweet tongue, fucking explore him—suck the smoke out of his lungs, white hot and seething. You’re the fire that the beast in him is breathing. He’s your first and last and only fucking breath.

You’re set to shatter into pieces on his knuckles, and he wants to fucking cry at just how beautiful you are, but that’s the shit that would cut deep enough to scar, and so instead he fucking chuckles.

Makes you weak; you’d scream at him if you had words to even speak. Just leave it to this piece of shit to fucking lighten it. He drags his fingers from your soaking cunt right in the instant just before you hit your peak, and you can’t keep him in no matter how you tighten it.

Here you had thought you both felt something that meant everything, but suddenly you worry that your inner slut got carried off imagining. Suddenly you think of course that’s not what’s happening. You’re just spread out beneath your best friend on the crap mattress of some seedy motel, and there’s no fucking way the fallout from this session will go over well. No way you can go back to what you were, after this ravaging. No way you can go further and become more in the future, which is what your stupid little heart desires more than anything. No way in hell. No way in fucking hell.

You’re slipping fast and he can tell. Tripping somewhere inside yourself. He’d run away from all the weight of that—or fuck through all the issues, if it’s not too late for that—that’s what he’d do, if you were anybody else.

You’re not.

You’re you and that’s what scares him. Like, a lot. He’s never felt something that tears him, but he’s shocked to find the pain and fear of feeling more than he can even bear just makes him harder, pushes him to take this farther. God, it’s super fucking hot.

The doubt and heartbreak radiating from you twist him up in knots. Jax had no clue, just what that little laugh off of his wicked lips would do. He did it to protect himself but didn’t think it would screw you. He sees it’s true, your pretty face painting the picture of your thoughts. Inches from pushing him away but pull him close instead ‘cause whether friend or lover, you’ll still love him like no other. Cling to him with all you’ve got.

He knows you better than he has any damn right to. He’s in you before he ever drives inside you. Always has been. This was real before it happened.

Holds you as you’re gasping—big strong hand soft on your face, the other keeps your hips in place, forehead against yours as he looks at you with eyes the blue of hope and then becomes the rope you’re grasping.

All the lines of who you were—the blindness of before—didn’t just blur. They fucking broke. You take him deep into your core, and let him wreck until it hurts, beg without words, for him to fuck you like a whore and so much more, and breathe him in so deep you choke.

There’s light on both ends of this cigarette, and no regret, as everything goes up in smoke.

..................................................

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[yeahimaloser]

Oooo I also got another good request how about a hawks x reader childhood friends they grow up together she took his punishments for him yk they have each other’s back and then in the future a villian attack and she ALMOST dies but no she gets save then hawks realizes he loves her and it’s all fluff at the end eek

Ok so, I literally love this request so much, I have no idea why it took me so long to write, but it's finally done!

Oh my god it took so long.

they/them pronouns used.

8k words! please enjoy!

16+ a bit suggestive at the end.

. . .

You sniffed, a hand wiping across your face as tears stung your eyes.

You had been training with the commission for a while now, almost a month to be exact. And it was so hard. In fact, it felt more like they were specifically targeting you.

You looked over at one of the other kids in the commissions program, Keigo, he seemed to have no problem with this exercise, in fact, you would have thought he was excelling at it.

But you could only sit and watch as his little wings flew past you.

You were only pulled from your family recently, but you knew that Keigo was here longer than you were. You rarely talked to him since your arrival, maybe it was because part of you didn’t want to become friends with anyone, maybe it was a small way of acting out, you didn’t know why, but you didn’t like him. He was just so much better than you.

Ever since you first came here, you’ve felt weak. You felt inferior to Keigo, you couldn’t help but compare yourself to him, watching exciede everyones expectations.

Compared to him, you were nothing but a dull blade.

You look down at your hands, cursing them as if that would do you any good. Your eyes stung again, the dust prickling against your eyelids.

The exercise was not supposed to be a difficult one, in terms of the gruelling training practices that they made you do, this one was pretty easy. All you had to do was get from one point in the commission's training facility, all the way to the other side of said facility. A simple running exercise. Although the floors were littered with traps, making it harder for you to get there, you knew it was supposed to be easy. And yet, for whatever reason, you had such immense difficulty.

Your quirk was mostly made for combat. It was the power they gave you the ability to control metal through your will. And although others might find it useful, you found it so difficult.

The problem was, your power was flashy, and yet not as easy to use as one might think. The metal had to touch you, which means that you have to get a hold of some metal object. And although technically you would be controlling it through your mind (Making it fly through the air at your own will) the object couldn’t be very heavy. Whatever metal object you wanted to use would weaken you. For example, controlling a knife was no problem, but controlling a 20 pound ball of metal was extremely difficult. which made your quirk almost completely useless here. Doing a running exercise, like you were doing now, there is little to nothing you could do with your quirk. The only times that your quirk would actually be useful, was during rescue missions or during an attack with multiple heroes in a big city with a lot of metal that you could touch. But that wasn't the case, and you hated it.

As you sat in the corner, trying desperately not to show your tears, you felt a gust of air as you looked up, only to be met with red wings.

“Are you…Ok?”

You never noticed how pretty his eyes were, the honey color’s made his features look so much softer.

After a few minutes, you realized he was still waiting for you to answer.

And for whatever reason, you felt your whole face becoming hot.

“I’m fine.” You said all too quickly.

He raises a bushy eyebrow at you, his face quizzical. “If you’re sure, but we are partners.”

You rolled your eyes.

You two were never truly partners. In this compound, there was only yourself to be concerned with.

“Stop pitying me, I can help myself.”

He smirked, “You say as if you’re not on the ground as we speak.”

You felt your face heating up again as you sprang to your feet, your eyes quickly narrowed, trying your best to seem composed.

“Why did you come back for me?”

But Keigo just shrugged, “Saw someone in need of help.”

That was the last straw.

You angrily stomped away. Who was he to judge you? Who was he to act like some hero? You knew he was the commission's golden boy, they loved him, he was their best weapon.

And you knew he was bright enough to know that as well. Although he never got any special treatment, you could tell by the way they trained him, how they paid more attention to his abilities and not so much the other’s.

Including you.

You felt something pull at you, something tugging you back.

You turned to see- a feather?

“Hey wait a sec,” Keigo said, “I wanna ask you something.”

Your face hardened, you two should be getting back to training soon, you knew the instructor would most likely yell at the two of you for falling too much behind.

“Ask your question and let's go,” you said, huffing.

“Do you want to be friends?”

The question caught you so off guard, causing you to stumble over a rock in front of you.

You whiped back to him, your eyes widen as you realized he was completely serious.

“Wha- friends? What the hell are you on about? There are no friends here, that's an idiot's dream.”

But Keigo only shrugged, “Well, then I guess I’m an idiot.”

You stared back at him, a look of pure disbelief written on your face.

Was he insane? Having friends here was almost imposible. The commission made sure of that, pitting you two against eachother, comparing you to one another, they made it so you would fight amongst yourselves.

“Why would you want to be friends with me?” You asked, your voice barely a whisper.

But he just shrugged, “Because I'm curious about you, and that crousity makes me want to befriend you.”

You stilled, thinking and thinking till your brain hurts.

“Look, you don’t have to say anything right now, I know I probably caught you off guard, and if you don’t want to, I understand… I think-I think I’m just lonely.”

You pursed your lips, still thinking it over in your mind before you grabbed his hand.

“Look, I’ll think about it, but first, let's get this race over with.”

Keigo smiled, blushing a bit as you two took off, hoping you two would becoming good friends.

. . .

And as time went on, you two did, in fact, become the best of friends.

By the time you were both teens, you and Keigo (or Hawks as his hero name) became the commissions pride and joy.

Although you were always so surprised that they didn’t want to through you out, Keigo was so much better than you, and you had fallen much behind him.

Keigo was faster, smarter and stronger, you knew that, you knew that all to well.

But, the commission never removed you, you continued to train to become a hero, right besides Keigo. A part of you wondered if maybe you were only kept on because of Keigo, maybe the commission saw how close you two were, watching how much you mattered to him, and maybe they thought they could use you to their advantage.

The thought made you shiver, mostly due to the fact that it wasn’t impossible, and more than likely.

One night, as you and Keigo lay under the stars on the roof of the commission's building, watching the night sky above.

Suddenly, Hawks turned to you, “Hey Y/N,” he said, “can I ask you something?”

You nodded your head, feeling your heart flutter.

“Do you....do you want to become a hero with me?”

You smiled, “Isn't that the whole reason we’re here? To become heroes?”

But Keigo just shook his head, “No I mean...what do you want to do? With your life?”

You took a pause, you’ve never really thought about it all that much. What did you want to do with your life? You’ve always just done what others have told you to do, always choosing to follow others rather than yourself.

You realized you had never thought about it before, never taking into consideration your feelings, you just worked to survive.

“...I don’t know.”

You hated saying it, it felt like such a childish thing to admit, especially with Keigo. Keigo, who’s figured out his life goal already. Keigo, who’s living out his dream. Keigo, who has most of his life planned out.

“I mean- I guess I’m not used to choosing for myself, you know? I’m not sure how to go about… figuring out my life without someone telling me how to live it first.”

But Keigo just nodded, “No, that makes sense, I mean, you’ve lived here most of your life, you’ve worked to become a hero, but that's really only because you were taught to be one. It’s ok to not know what you want out of life, and don’t worry, I’ll be here to support you, Y/N.”

Keigo turned to you, a smile plastered on his face.

That beautiful, amazing, breathtaking smile.

You felt your face become flushed, and you sat up quickly so as to not have Keigo notice.

“Yeah well- thanks,” you said softly.

But Keigo just laughed, “Don’t worry about it dove.”

. . .

Years later, and Hawks had become the number two pro hero. And you hadn’t done too badly yourself, coming in at the number eleventh spot.

You didn’t mind being behind Hawks, in fact, you found yourself becoming a bit proud of yourself because of how far you had made it.

Right now, you were busy on portal, watching citizens go about their day on a rooftop above.

You watched closely, wondering what kind of life you could have been living if you had never chosen to be a hero, wondering if you too, would have been walking on that very same street as some other hero observed you from afar.

Somedays you found yourself wondering if the hero commission hadn’t taken you away, had let you lived your life for yourself, what would you do? Who would you become?

You wondered if you would have met Keigo as well, or if that would only work if you had been with the hero commission.

Maybe in that universe, you two could finally be together.

It happened a while ago, when you figured out your true feelings for Hawks. Although, maybe you always had feelings for him, since you were little kids. But, you had feelings for him had began to bubble over, you found yourself wanting to spend more time with him, wanted to keep him to yourself. But you would never act on these feelings, you knew better.

Keigo Takami would never be yours, not in a million years.

You let out a sigh, just as you heard boots hit the ground behind you.

“Miss me,” a familiar voice asked.

Even though you had known Hawks since you two were kids, you were always caught off guard by those dazzling eyes, the honey gold color swirling around as he stared down at you, pinning you to your spot on the roof.

You smiled, “Hawks, I just saw you.”

He shrugged, “So? I still missed you in that time.”

You rolled your eyes, “Did you come here to bother me or do you actually have a reason to be here?”

His hands flew to his chest, dramatically saying, “Oh angel, how you wound my poor heart.”

You giggled, “Aw Hawks, always the flare for the dramatic.”

He smiled, but then his eyes got serious, “But I do need your help with something, a mission not too far from here.”

Watching Hawks in action was like watching an artist at work, he was careful, skillful, even downright majestic. He took care in his work, he worked quickly and efficiently, like a well-oiled machine.

And, not to sound too cocky, you two made a pretty good team. And considering you two were very close friends, you vehemently enjoyed working with him.

Although, maybe it was cuz you also had a little bit of a crush on him.

Your face felt flushed at the thought, but before you could think your mouth had already said yes.

“Oh? Are you just agreeing so you can spend time with me, little dove,” Hawks smiled teasingly.

He had a habit of doing this, it was a little game he would play on you. teasing was so fun for him, but he didn’t realize how it gave you such butterflies.

Luckily though, although you did have feelings for him, you learned how to push them away for situations like this.

You scoffed, “Hawks, would you just give me the rundown. Or do I have to call the commission myself?”

He put his hands up, “Wow there chicky, no need to get antsy, I’ll explain everything, ok?”

He told you about the mission, nothing to fancy, in fact, it was quite easy.

Some of his sidekicks had noticed some suspicious activity near a specific location near U.A that the commission wanted to be checked out. They had said that they didn’t want another attack to happen yet again to the school.

On the outside, it might have seemed like the commission gave a shit about the kids in U.A, but you knew better. They just wanted to look good, and right now, this was the best way to do that.

“So basically, if we do see any suspicious activity, we’re allowed to bring anyone in there for questioning, and if worst comes to worst, we have orders to use force.”

You nodded, sounded just like a normal mission for the two of you, should be no p.

“Alright,” you said, “Sounds easy enough. Should we head over now? How will I get there?”

But Hawks seemed to be one step ahead of you.

He held out his hand, a smirk plastered on his dazzling face, “Just hold on to me, sweetheart.”

. . .

You’ve flown with Hawks before, considering how close you two were it was understandable that he would have offered a number of times.

But still, it Always made you so giddy.

The way he held you, so secure in his arms, his face inches away from you. And that gleam in his eyes, it always felt like it was only you and him in that moment, only you two in the entire sky. And each time, it made your heart shudder.

“You ok there, dove,” Hawks asked in your ear.

You jumped a little, surprised by his words. You realized you had begun spacing out while looking directly at him.

You composed yourself, “Just keep flyin’ bird brain. I’m just thinking.”

You could almost feel his smirk, “Thinking? Thinking of what, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Drop it Hawks.”

“Oh,” he said, his tone mischievous, “just like I can drop you?”

Just then, you felt Hawks serve mid-air.

“KEIGO,” you shouted, not even thinking.

But Hawks had regained his hold on you, the prank only lasting for a second.

He laughed, his chest shaking, “You should have seen your face, Chicky! Ha! That was funny!”

But you would disagree, “I swear to God, Hawks, I’ll punch you when we land.”

But you thought for a second, “Sorry I called you your name...so loud.”

Keigo didn’t really like his name, opting to be called ‘Hawks’ instead.

But you knew why he preferred his new name instead. Because of his past.

Keigo was a kid left in the dirt, left and discarded, a remnant of a past that wasn’t so pleasant. You knew that thinking about it only brought pain to him, and saying his name out loud would only remind him of a past he would rather soon forget.

And the name ‘Hawks’ had marked the beginning of a new life for him. It was a way for him to move on past that old life, a way for him to become the best version of himself.

“Sorry,” you whispered.

“It’s ok… I don’t think anyone heard,” Hawks said.

His grip on you seemed to be tighter, more secure.

“And also, you know I would never drop you, right? I could never hurt you, ever.”

You rolled your eyes, “That’s so cheesy. Just don’t drop me and it’s fine.”

. . .

The place wasn’t too bad.

It was an old supply garage, there were about four people from what you could see.

It was definitely near U.A, you could see a clear view to the school, although it was far, it definitely had a vantage point. You could see why this could be a problem, and your brain hurt thinking about what villainous thing they could be planning.

You could hear the guy closest to you, it was a bit hard but you honed your ears.

“So, you all have everything,” a man asked in a scratchy rough voice.

“Yeah,” one of the others said, “everything's here, make sure to give it to Shigaraki with our gratitude.”

You looked over at Hawks, but his eyes were trained on the villains, his black pupils sharpening and watching their every move, before he nodded, signaling to move out.

And then, everything happened in a flash.

Hawks, as always, moved fast and quick, and you come up behind him.

Hawks grabbed one of the men, and held back the other two with his feathers, leaving only you and the two others.

You pulled out your handy metal staff, preparing yourself to bend it to your will.

But you never got the chance.

One of the men smirked a gun in his hand. The other behind him, activating what looked like an ice quirk.

And before you could think, you felt your feet being Frozen down to the hard metal floor of the garage.

“What the hell,” you mutter to yourself.

you tried your best to wiggle your way out of it, but you saw no way to free yourself from your icey binds.

Luckily, with your fast thinking, you grabbed the metal staff, shaping it to hit one of the men square in the jaw, making him drop his weapon.

the other one was taken aback, a perfect opening for your staff to hit him in the face.

But your feet were still frozen to the floor, and a few whacks to the felons was not going to be enough to take them down.

You racked your brain, Hawks was too far away, and there was no way you could get out of the ice on your own.

You brought your metal stuff back, using it to break the ice on your feet. Just as the men were getting back up.

You ran over, preparing to hit one of the men right in the face, a blow big enough to knock them out.

But you never got the chance.

The other man tackled you to the floor, your back hitting the ground.

“Not so tough now, are you, little hero.”

You looked over at Keigo, but there was no use. He was too busy fighting his own battle, and you knew it wasn't fair to rely on him.

So, with all your strength you pushed the man off. Using the metal floor to help you.

Just then, an idea occurred to you. It was risky, but it could work.

You knew that Keigo was far enough for it to work, it wouldn’t hurt him, but the only problem was it wouldn’t trap the two villains he was fighting.

But, considering he was the number two hero, you knew he would be just fine. You trusted him in that.

The ground beneath you is made of metal, you could feel it beneath your feet. You could also feel the two men running towards you.

You dodged their initial attacks, but you knew that they would soon overpower you. You also knew that you couldn't kill them, but you could hurt them.

So your best bet was to trap them, and yourself, before backup came.

You hit your palm against the floor, willing it to your mind. It was a long stretch, and you could feel the strain on your body. The toll that it was taking was immediate, your muscles felt tired, your brain even felt foggy for a few minutes, but you kept going.

You made sure that the ground collapsed, but it wouldn't hurt anybody.

You were not expecting, however, for the ceiling to collapse along with it.

There must have been a support beam on the ground as well that you had taken down with the floor, causing the ceiling to come down.

You looked up, seeing the last moment as the ceiling collapsed on you.

. . .

Hawks hated hospitals.

The smell, the people, the pain. He hated it all, but you were the one in the hospital, so of course, he needed to come.

The days after the accident had been hard, to say the least.

Keigo just remembered watching as the rooftop collapsed, watching your bruised body go along with it.

He remembered screaming your name too, yelling and willing all his feathers to help you, to get you out.

He remembered his heart racing and beating so hard in his chest, he remembered his eyes, tears swelling up as his breath ran ragged.

He didn’t even care about the villains, he had caught the two he had been fighting already, but he didn’t care. He needed to get you out, he needed to make sure you were ok.

After digging for what felt like an eternity, there you were, bruised and bloody. But you were breathing, and he held you close, his tears dripping over your cheeks.

He felt his heartbreak, he couldn't stand the sight of you being hurt, he couldn't stand the thought that he had something to do with it.

He wanted you to wake up, he wanted you to wake up so badly it hurt. For you to look up, and teased him about crying. He wanted nothing more than to apologize over and over, for making his friend suffer, even if it was unintentional.

He knew he could never forgive himself, and he knew he could never make it up to you.

Keigo knew you were in bad shape, so he called the ambulance to take you to the hospital. He was there with you the whole way, watching you, helping in any way he could.

He felt like his heart was being ripped out of his chest, watching as your fragile body was rolled away to the special care unit of the hospital, as the doctors told him he couldn’t come in with you.

“Mr. Hawks,” a voice said in front of him.

He flinched.

Hawks wasn’t someone who was easily startled, seeing as he had years of training, but his mind was so all over the place. Worrying and wondering if you were ok, hoping and praying to god everything would be ok.

He couldn’t lose you, and he realized that only now.

If he lost you, how would he even be able to function? You were everything to him, his friend (if he was being truthful, his only true friend) , his rock, the person he could trust for support and help.

To be honest, if he lived in a world without you, he really wouldn’t know what to do…

“Sir?”

He snapped back to reality, his eyes looking up at the doctors.

“Sorry,” he sighed, “I think I’m just a bit off my game today, you’ll have to excuse my behavior. But what were you saying, sir?”

“Well, L/N Y/N has sustained some pretty severe injuries, such as bruising of the sides and hips, and a broken leg,” Hawks sucked in a breath, “We know how to treat it, of course, but Y/N will need much recovery time. That being said, Y/N seems to not have any family or emergency contacts but you. If it’s ok with you, would you be willing to visit as well as look over Y/N in the recovery period?”

Hawks quickly agreed, “Anything doctor, anything you need or Y/N needs...anything at all.”

The doctor smiled at him, “Thank you, Mr. Hawks, unfortunately though, Y/N needs a bit more time alone, but when we deem it ok, you can come back for a visit.”

Hawks felt his shoulders slump, he knew it was selfish, but he had hoped to see you again, to apologize for putting you in that piston, he felt horrible.

The mission wasn't supposed to go like that at all, it was supposed to be a swift and easy fight. It was really just supposed to be the four guys with easy quirks, and they were all supposed to be an easy fight.

Hawks had learned about the hideout in front of U.A a while ago, when he learned it was also a part of the ledge, he went right to Dabi.

“Are you insane,” he had said, “someone will catch you, and personally, I can’t stand by and let you attack those kids.”

“Oh?” Dabi smirked, “And how will you stop us? You’re a part of the league now, bird boy, and we need this lookout, so just shut up already.”

Keigo huffed, “I can’t let you do that, that’s right by my portal area, my bosses will get suspicious, and I look bad enough as it is. I haven’t brought anyone from the league in, soon someone will put two-in-two together.”

It was a lie of course, his bosses knew exactly why he couldn't bring in anyone from the league, they had assigned the mission after all.

But the problem didn't lie with his bosses, it lay with the other Heroes and the public eye. The other hero’s had started to whisper to each other, wondering why the Hawks hadn’t brought in anyone from the notorious League of villains yet. He heard their whispers, and it made him uneasy. He knew if he didn't act soon, they would just grow more and more suspicious. As for the public eye, he couldn't let his image slide, he had to figure out a solution, and this would be the perfect way to do so.

Dabi pondered the idea, toying with Hawks’ growing anticipation, like a cat pawing at a helpless bird.

“Alright, I suppose we can make that work.”

And so, a plan was formed.

Keigo was to swiftly take the four men in for questioning. Dabi had arranged for it so all vital information was to be learned from the lookouts, and then Hawks could swoop in and go in fighting. The other four men would have no idea what was going on, so it looked like the real deal.

They had set up specific times and dates to make sure they would take the men and the lookout down, that way the league wouldn’t lose any vital information.

“I’ll tell you when, don’t start till I tell you,” Dabi had said, “or else there will be problems.”

And Hawks had done as he was told, he waited for Dabi to give him the all-clear, and went in.

But you getting hurt was never a part of the plan.

Keigo felt guilt clawing at his chest. How did he get like this? He was supposed to be the one to protect you, to make sure that you were always okay.

But it seemed like he was the one who got you hurt.

His guilt was suddenly replaced by anger, it made him ball his fist.

Those men were supposed to be easy to take down, they were supposed to be simple to deal with, but even Keigo had difficulty defeating them all on his own.

This was an error on his part, he knew that, but he also couldn’t help but simultaneously blame Dabi as well.

It was his fault that he hadn’t warned Keigo about the strength of the men.

Keigo was going to make him pay….

. . .

Dabi’s head hit the wall with a loud thud, Keigo’s angry eyes boring into him.

“I should kill you right here, right now.”

Dabi laughed, “Look, it wasn’t my fault your little partner couldn’t handle a few guys, ain't they supposed to be a hero? Shouldn’t they be able to help themselves?”

Dabi’s twisted smile made Keigo see red.

“I swear Dabi-”

“The league will come after you, you know that.”

Keigo felt his hands shake with rage, his fingers wrinkling Dabis' shirt.

“What were they to you? You seem pretty upset there, birdy. Maybe….your lover?”

A feather sharpened at Dabi’s neck, Keigo’s fury never leaving his body.

“Say one more goddamn word and I swear to god I'll kill you.”

“Look,” Dabi said, “I didn't know how strong those guys were, I thought that you'd be able to take ‘em down pretty easily. But I guess we just gave ‘em more training than I thought. That's all. Nothing I could have done about it, and nothing you could have done about it. You should know that stuff like this is inevitable, shit is bound to go wrong.”

Keigo released him, his eyes still boring into Dabi’s.

“If I figure out you had some sort of part in this-”

“Yeah yeah, you’ll kill me. I get it.”

Keigo stormed off, walking away from Dabi.

Keigo wanted nothing more than to beat the crap out of someone, anyone, he just wanted someone to blame, someone to feel the way he felt.

The fact that you were in pain only made it worse.

What was he to do now? He couldn’t go home, he would only be able to think about you, only be able to think about your laugh, your eyes, your lips….

He shook his head. Why was he thinking of something like that? And at a time like this? You were...his friend.

But that thought made his heart sink. Like that thought had filled him with dread.

He sighed, shaking his head, this wasn’t about him, it was about you, it was about helping you. Not thinking about his feelings. Or lack thereof.

He felt his phone ring in his back pocket, just before he was leaving.

Looking at the number, he realized it was the doctor's office that was calling.

Without even thinking he picked up, “Hello?”

“Hello Mr. Hawks, we just wanted to ask if you would want to come in and see the patient L/N Y/N, they have woken up. So if you would like to see them-”

“Yes!” Keigo said, a bit too excitedly, “Sorry- about the interruption- but yes I would like to see them.”

“Alright Mr. Hawks, please come whenever you can, they’ve been asking for you.”

. . .

Hawks had never flown so fast, rushing so fast in order to see you, needed to see you.

When he finally got there, he rushed in, finding the receptionist to find your room.

“They’re in room 236 sir-”

But he cut her off, adrenaline pumping through his body.

“Ok, thank you so much.”

Finding your room was easy, and yet, he found himself outside your room, dreading to go in.

How could he face you? How could he apologize? How could he look you in the eye, see what happened to you, and be able to talk to you.

He ran a hand down his face, why was this so hard? He’s taken down many many villains before, and he had never felt as anxious as he did now?

“...Hawks?”

He jumped, he actually jumped.

There you were, standing, only a few inches away from his face, his eyes widened and he could feel his whole body becoming hot.

Why did he suddenly become like this around you? His heart felt like it was on fire, his whole body felt strange.

But your face, it looked so stunning, that for a moment he couldn’t feel his lungs.

“Are you...ok?” He was surprised that his voice finally managed to work.

You blinked, “Yeah, I’m ok. What about you, though? Your face is all red. Do have a fever or something? I can call a doctor.”

“No no,” he sighed, “just...feeling weird I suppose.”

He felt the redness travel from his cheeks all the way up to his ears, “I-I’m fine, really, don't worry about me, I'm actually here to see you.”

You smiled, gazing up at him, “Aww, you can see lil’ old me? How thoughtful.”

You both walked into your room, and Hawks watched as you lay down on the bed.

The hospital room was nothing special, a state-of-the-art hospital room, similar to one's that Hawks had been in many times. Being a hero always came with getting hurt, but seeing you in this condition, made his heart squeeze.

if he could, he would go back in time and figure out a way so that he could be in this situation, not you. You didn't deserve it, you have done nothing but help him, and this is how he repaid you? He felt sick with guilt.

“Hawks?” You said.

He snapped up, like coming back from a bad dream.

But you just laughed your sweet, kind laugh.

Hawks wanted to hear it again, one more time he wanted to hear you laugh like that, it made him feel like everything was drifting away from him like it was just you and him in this entire world.

“You’re totally out of it! What’s gotten into you,” You said, a smile still plastered on your face.

“Sorry, just thinkin’.”

“Yeah well you must be thinking a little too hard there, are you okay? Do you want to sit down? Something's obviously bothering you, you can tell me.”

but hawks just side, “I don’t know, I don’t want you to be upset with me.”

But you just smiled up at him, “Hawks, nothing in this world could make me upset with you.”

And so he told you, about the league, about the secrets he's been hiding from you. It felt good, it felt good to finally confide in someone, it felt like a weight being lifted off his shoulders. he felt at ease, talking to you like you were the only person who would ever understand. And you probably were.

You listened to him, you listened as he told you about what happened, about how sorry he felt, you didn't blame him for what happened, You just listened. You listened and listened and listened.

So when he finally finished, he was scared of what you would say.

“...I’m sorry,” he said.

“Why are you sorry, Hawks you didn’t do anything wrong.”

He looked up at you, “B-but I got you hurt-”

“That’s not your fault though, you had a mission to follow.”

“But I should have never involved you.”

“I'm glad you did, it could have been you that would have gotten hurt,” you said, smiling.

But he just tsked, “It would have been better if it was me, I can’t stand to see you like this, you know.”

Your hands went to his cheeks, bringing his face closer, “And I wouldn’t be able to see you like this either, I would have blamed myself. I’m glad I came with you, even if it meant I got hurt in the process. I care about you, Hawks.”

Keigo couldn’t breathe, you were so close, your lips an inch away.

“Keigo.”

Your eyes widened, “What?”

“I want you to call me Keigo when we’re alone from now on, I...I like when you say it.”

You paused for a moment, and then burst out laughing, “Where did this come from?”

His face went red, “I-I don’t know, just kinda been thinking about it I guess.”

You giggled a bit before saying, “Ok, I mean, if that’s what you want. Y’know, you’ve been acting strange Haw-Keigo,” you corrected, “are you sure everything's ok?”

There it was again, the pitter-batter in his heart, the nervousness in his stomach.

Something was wrong, but he didn’t know how to say it.

He didn’t know how he would even categorize the way he was feeling, he couldn't explain it to himself, much less to you.

“I’m fine, just...overwhelmed I guess.”

He shook his head, “But I should be asking how you are, you're the one in the hospital, not me. Stop worrying, how are you, how are you feeling? What do you need me to do? I'll be here to help you, no matter what.”

You rolled your eyes, “Eventually you’ll have to go home, and I’m totally fine, Keigo.”

By the mention of his name, he couldn’t help but feel his heart squeeze.

“R-right, well, can I just..stay here. With you? Till you get better?”

You smiled, “Of course.”

. . .

While you were in the hospital, Keigo stayed by your side. He never left you, he cared for you, watched over for you, and was so understanding.

It only made your feelings for him deeper, and you were loath to admit that you enjoyed it.

You enjoyed watching him fawn over you, knowing that he was close to you. You two would talk for hours, about anything, and you loved it. You loved feeling him near you, watching his eyes soften and the stupid silly quirk of his smile. You felt warm inside, you felt so at peace with him at your side.

You knew it was selfish, but you couldn't help loving how long you were spending with him.

But, it all came to an end, and you had to go home.

To your surprise, Keigo offered you to stay with him for a little bit.

Just till you get back on your feet,” he said.

Your heart leaped at the opportunity, sharing a house with the guy you had a crush on for years? It felt like you were a lovesick teenager again. Although, you would always be lovesick when it came to Keigo.

At Keigo’s house, he was nothing but polite to you. Although, a bit too polite.

For all his flirting, for all his suave charm, he was never really like that with you. He was just normal, keeping to himself in the house, but always being able to hang out with you or do anything with you if you wanted.

And yet, you could feel the nervousness oozing off of him, like he wanted to say something, but was holding himself back.

Like something was on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn’t get it out.

It, intern, made you just as nervous.

Were you being a nuisance? Did you say something to upset him? A million thoughts running through your head, and you are worried about all of them.

The last thing that you would ever want to do would be to upset Keigo, but you couldn’t figure out what was wrong.

Maybe he felt bad about the accident?

You sucked in a breath, that had to be it. He felt bad, and therefore, was nervous around you.

You have to confront him, you thought, you had to clear the air so you would both feel better.

You decided to wait till tomorrow morning, not wanting to scare or embarrass him well you could tell he was so nervous.

. . .

“Keigo,” you said, a waver in your voice showing how nervous you were.

“Hm?” Keigo looked up from his phone, his honey-colored irises landing on you, only serving to make you more anxious.

You took a deep breath, “I wanna talk to you about something. and it's pretty important, so I'd appreciate it if you could listen till the end.”

Keigo sat up, “What, am I in trouble or something?” He said in a teasing, yet nervous way.

“No,” you sighed, “But I just really need to talk to you about something.”

You took one moment more to collect yourself before speaking, “We've known each other for a long time, we've known each other since we were little kids when we were both put into the commission's program and since we were both made heroes. So you should know, that I know when you're upset.”

You saw Keigo twitch in his chair, but you continued.

“You've been nervous ever since the hospital, maybe even nervous in the hospital. And I don't know what's going on with you. I... I don't know if it was something that I did, or if it was something that happened, but I'm here for you. And I don't like it that you keep this a secret from me. I consider you to be one of my best friends, and I want you to know that you can trust me. No matter what happens, I'll still always love you. Nothing will ever change that,” a smile pulled at your lips as you said your last sentence.

It was silent for a few moments, the air between you too felt heavy and suffocating.

Finally, Keigo spoke, “Y/N, I want to tell you something, but... I'm not sure how you’ll react.”

You tried to speak up again, but Keigo cut you off.

“I know that you're going to say that nothing can ever come between us, and I do believe you. But... something came up and I just don't know how to deal with it. You mean so much to me, and losing your friendship is my worst nightmare. And I guess…. I just got so scared of losing you that I just didn't think about anything else. I'm sorry.”

Your face contorted into one of confusion, “Keigo, I’m not sure what you mean? What are you talking about? What came up?”

But Keigo just sighed, “Y/n I...I think I’m in love with you.”

You felt your heart stop, your eyes widened as your brain was racing.

What did you say? No... that couldn't be right.

Keigo Takami could not be in love with you, he just wouldn't. You had accepted that a long time ago, you knew that he would never have the same feelings that you had for him. You knew that, so what was going on?

“I...I’m sorry?”

Keigo’s face turned a bright shade of pink, “I-I think I’m in love with you. I’m sorry to spring this on you so suddenly, I know it must be a lot to take in, if you’re uncomfortable being here with me feel free to leave. I completely understand-”

But your lips stopped his words, your body pressed firmly to his.

He was started by the kiss at first, but soon, his body and mind became muddled, hands wrapped around your waist as he tasted your lips. It felt intoxicating.

Before you knew it, your hips were straddling him, keeping him locked in his chair. But Keigo wasn’t complaining.

Your lips tangled with one another as moans escaped both of you, your hands unable to leave each other's bodies.

Your hands traveled down his chest, even ripping open the button-down he was wearing, showing his abs and rippling muscles.

“Y/N..” Keigo said, his voice hoarse.

When you looked back up at him, his eyes were narrowed, slanted, and staring you down. But they had a softness to them, one that made your heart flutter.

“Keigo… god you have no idea how much I love you,” you said.

If this was a dream, you never wanted to wake up.

Keigo smirked, “‘s that so babe? Well, I plan to show you just how much I love you tonight.”

His lips attached to the column of your throat, kissing and nipping lightly at the skin. His hands roaming up and down your body made you feel as though you were on fire. His calloused hands stroked your back, making you arch into him.

“K-Keigo,” you moaned.

But he just hummed into your skin, his brain turning to mush, only able to think about how much pleasure he could give you, how much love he wanted to show you.

“Keigo, I love you,” you whispered into the shell of his ear.

Keigo groaned, still occupied with your neck, but pulled his lips away in order to say; “I’m glad,” and smiled at you.

You returned his smile before your lips found his again.

It would be a very long night.

[mothandpidgeon]

REPUTATION - Chapter 1

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!reader

Words: 3615

Rating: T

Warnings: slowest of burns, gender swapped characters, TOUCHING HANDS, no us of y/n

Summary: After scandal damages your reputation, you are finished with society. But a mysterious bachelor by the name of Mr. Djarin has a reputation of his own. And you are determined to keep yourself from getting mixed up with him.

A/N: So after THAT LOOK I know we are all working on our Darcy fics. I feel very intimidated to give it a go when so many talented writers are going to be doing it better but I really haven’t been able to think about anything else.

Also please forgive any historical inaccuracies. I hate those even when they’re on purpose so let’s just agree to ignore them.

And thanks @pascalslittlebrat for taking a look at this and listening to all of my feelings.

MASTERLIST

You used to enjoy going to balls. You used to feel excitement when you got dressed in a fine white gown, your hair set elegantly with little silk flowers. Your heart would race when you would arrive and see all of the gentlemen in their finery. And dancing. There was a time when you could stay on your feet all night, drinking in the attention of all the eligible bachelors.

Those days were long gone. Now you felt a rock in the pit of your stomach the entire time. You counted the moments until you could leave. You couldn’t even bother to put on a pleasant expression, spending entire evenings sullen and taciturn. But at least this was the last ball you had to drag yourself to this season.

You had been forced to spend yet another season in town. This time you had the company of your younger cousin Julia, though her older sister Emma was a difficult chaperone. And tonight you were being hosted by Captain Charles Dune and his wife Lady Georgiana Karga. They threw wonderful parties– at least you had enjoyed them when you enjoyed those things. It was a masquerade ball which meant Julia had picked out a dainty little mask for you to wear. You couldn’t be bothered to choose one yourself but Julia had an eye for this sort of thing. And you liked the creamy white bow that she tied into your hair.

Julia was looking forward to tonight. She was very popular despite being related to you, containing all of the traits a man would want in a wife– good looks, excellent conversational skills, and a talent at the piano forte. She had a number of young men constantly calling on her and her dance card was practically full before she had even gotten into the carriage.

“You look so pretty!” she insisted, though she was probably admiring the work she had done to make you presentable.

Emma was looking forward to being finished with you. She had been married for three years and fancied herself an authority on the subject. She spent much of her time lecturing you on the proper way to comport yourself. Tonight she was just trying to get you to quit sulking.

“Would you at least try to be sociable?” Emma requested with a frown.

“I don’t much see the point,” you huffed. “Do you really believe I’ll get a proposal at the last ball of the season?”

“Lady Georgiana has invited an old friend of the captain’s,” Emma encouraged. “Mr. Djarin. She says he’s quite admirable.”

You rolled your eyes. You both knew you were headed for spinsterhood. Emma had lost her mind if she thought that she was going to pawn you off on some aged, paunchy bachelor.

The ball went exactly as you had expected. You watched Julia dance and laugh. You stood by as Emma talked animatedly when she wasn’t giving you sharp looks. Though there were gentlemen without partners, no one asked you to dance aside from Captain Dune and a few of the unlucky young men he could press into service.

Even now at the end of the season, where so many engagements had been made, you could still feel the eyes on you, the whispers behind hands. It was as if they thought the masks covered their looks of derision. You knew what they were saying, why they snickered and turned away.

It was all because of your broken engagement to Mr. Vanth. There was no returning from a situation like that. You had been cast aside and all of the ton could enjoy surmising the reasons. Your reputation was in shambles.

But it wasn’t the fact that he had gone and married some heiress not two months after he’d given you up that made it all so painful. What had really destroyed you was the fact that you’d let yourself love him. He wasn’t the best choice though he was handsome and had enough income to keep you comfortable. But you had given your heart to him and he had crushed it. And you looked like an utter fool for it.

For some reason, tonight it all stung. You’d learned to drown out the comments and ignore the sideways glances. But here you were, closing yet another season, as single as the day you’d come out. You’d begged your poor mother to let you stay at home in the country so that you wouldn’t have to suffer these indignities. It was pathetic that you had even shown up in London. But she had insisted, had assured you that you were still desirable, still attractive and spirited.

You certainly didn’t feel that way now. You snatched up a glass of wine from a nearby valet and drank it down in nearly a single gulp. It did little to soothe your nerves.

You needed air. You took another glass and sped towards the garden. The noise and music floated out here but the fresh air was cool and the garden looked quite empty, the vacant pathways lit by torches.

You’d once been so much fun. You’d laughed and smiled. You’d had no worries about your future. Now, not only were you a laughing stock but you would be lucky if you could rely on your cousin’s generosity for the rest of your days lest you end up in the poor house.

Tears were welling up in your eyes. You tore the mask off of your face to wipe them away. With your vision clouded and in the dim of the garden, you didn’t see the man that was standing in the shadows until you’d run right into his back.

You’d hit him with enough force to knock you back a few paces but he hardly flinched. He was tall and broad shouldered and he turned to look at you with curiosity. He was alone, thank heavens. He wore a black tailcoat and under that a waist coat that looked like silver and shined like silk. You didn’t recognize him but, of course, he was wearing a mask like all of the other guests. His was rendered in the same silver fabric with a slim slit for his eyes. A scalloped piece of fabric fell from the bottom of the mask down to his chin so you couldn’t see anything of his face other than his dark eyes.

Once you’d regained your balance you began to stutter an apology.

“Forgive me, sir,” you stammered. “I must mind my step.”

The stranger didn’t say anything, he just continued to look you up and down, the torch light reflected in his eyes. His hair was a mess of dark curls. His stature was imposing and incredibly still. You were so shaken that you suddenly realized how you looked, your face stained with tears and eyes glassy. You felt your cheeks burn with even more embarrassment.

Just as you opened your mouth to give some explanation, a voice came from behind you.

“Djarin! There you are!” Captain Dune called out, as jovial as ever.

You did your best to wipe the tears from your cheeks while the masked man turned his attention away.

Captain Dune sauntered down the path with his wife on his elbow. He was a dark haired, stocky man who still looked quite dashing in his dress uniform. He had been a hero of the Nile and served with your father before his ship had been lost. His round face was adorned with a black mask.

“Ah! I see you’ve met the young lady I told you about,” Dune said.

Lady Georgiana’s bright eyes looked between the two of you from under her leather mask. She was a beautiful woman with dark skin and a wide smile. She had always been kind to you even after the disastrous affair with Mr. Vanth.

“My dear, allow me to introduce Mr. Djarin,” Lady Georgiana said. “He is a very good friend.”

Mr. Djarin gave a tight bow when she introduced you but barely murmured a, “How do you do?”

“What are you doing hiding out here, Djarin? The dancing is inside!” Dune teased.

Mr. Djarin gave a chuckle but he didn’t sound amused.

“Why don’t you ask this young lady for a dance? I’m sure she would lower herself to stand up with you,” the captain continued with a wink.

“I’d better not. Please, you’ll have to excuse me. I should retire,” Mr. Djarin said, his voice deep and raspy.

Your eyes fell to the ground and you swallowed hard. You hoped in the darkness of the garden, Lady Georgiana didn’t catch your upset. Clearly Captain Dune had told him everything about you. Why else would this man be so impolite?

“Oh come now. It’s early, yet,” the captain protested.

“Forgive me. It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” he bowed and took his leave.

“My dear,” Lady Georgiana tried, “you’ll have to forgive Mr. Djarin. He has lived alone for so long that he sometimes forgets his manners.”

You gave her a smile, clenching your jaw so that you would not cry.

“I just had a splendid idea!” Lady Georgiana exclaimed, clapping her hands together. “You should come stay with us at Nevarro Hall. We leave next week. It would be great fun. I do find that part of the country so diverting.”

“You are too kind but I couldn’t impose,” you said politely. You had a feeling this offer only came because Georgiana felt responsible for her friend’s slight.

“Nonsense! You’re quite right that is a grand idea!” the captain agreed.

It was agreed that Lady Georgiana would write to your mother to inform her of the invitation. You knew she wouldn’t disagree considering how kind the Dunes were and how generous an invitation it was. Once the matter was settled, Captain Dune insisted you return to the party and you reluctantly slunk back inside.

Julia was with a gaggle of some friends when you returned to the ballroom. There was some excitement going on between them.

“Did you see him, Lucy?” one of the girls asked.

“I was introduced,” Lucy squealed. “It is a shame he was not here earlier in the season.”

You realized they were talking about Mr. Djarin and you felt yourself frowning.

“You’re not happy with Mr. Calican?” Julia laughed. Lucy had accepted his proposal just yesterday.

“No, of course!” she scoffed.

“What was he like?” Julia asked.

“I’ve heard he has a fine estate,” Lucy said.

“Oh, he was terribly handsome,” the first girl craned her neck to try and spot Mr. Djarin.

You wanted to laugh. You had also been introduced to Mr. Djarin but there was no way of knowing how handsome he was beneath that mask. You might have even ventured to tell them that but Emma joined the group looking disgruntled.

“I have learned some most unsettling news about Mr. Djarin,” she said. “He is traveling with a child who is in his care.”

“What about that offends you so?” Julia rolled her eyes.

“That is just it, Julia. I am told that this young boy is not merely Mr. Djarin’s ward. He is, in fact, his natural child.” This last part she said in a scandalized whisper.

This raised quite a few eyebrows but you furrowed your own.

“You are told?” You responded. “By whom?”

You knew the rumors that had circulated about yourself and had grown to absolutely despise and distrust gossip.

“I have it on good authority,” Emma said, which meant that some busybody had told her.

You shook your head. You hated that you felt the need to defend Mr. Djarin after he’d been so rude to you. If he had a child out of wedlock, one that he paraded around shamelessly, then what right did he have to rebuff you? You reminded yourself that this was merely hearsay. And no one deserved to be slandered like that.

But when you saw the way the other girls eyed you, you remembered yourself. If you protested too much, it would only speak to your own reputation. So you let them prattle on and as soon as you could slip away, you did, and spent the rest of the evening counting the minutes until you could leave and fall into bed.

After such an excruciating time in town, you were happy to be going anywhere else and, selfishly, you were glad that you didn’t need to spend a long carriage ride hearing Julia go on and on about how much she would miss being in town.

Nevarro Hall was situated on a gorgeous estate in a quiet part of the countryside. Lady Georgiana had given you a well appointed room with a view of the grounds. There was a beautiful garden with a fountain in the middle and, beyond that, a manicured lawn. You could see down to the lake and, past that, the tall trees. You spent a week walking the grounds with Lady Georgiana.

You loved to draw and you could set yourself in some corner of the garden and sketch the flowers for hours on end. It was such a wonderful change from the constant noise and hustle of town– the endless parties and calls, Emma herding you around like a prized cow. When the weather was fair, Lady Georgiana would have tea set outside and she and the captain would ask for a tour through your sketchbook and kindly remark on your talents.

“Perhaps you will create a likeness of the captain, my dear,” Lady Georgiana suggested. “If he will sit still enough for you.”

The captain laughed at that remark as the valet presented him with a letter.

“Very good! It seems Djarin will be joining us tomorrow! His business in town is finished,” he said.

You tried to hide your displeasure. You had no interest in sitting through dinners and excruciating evenings with Mr. Djarin. But you had little choice in the matter. And the captain and Lady Karga had been such generous hosts, you wouldn’t insult them by cutting your visit short.

You decided that you would be as polite as necessary but keep away from him as much as possible. This was wise, you told yourself, because your reputation couldn’t suffer any more difficulties. There were plenty of people that would jump at the chance to make even a passing association with Mr. Djarin into a scandal. But, of course, there was still a part of you that smarted at the way he had dismissed you in your very first encounter. You couldn’t be prevailed upon to be pleasant to a man that was so insulting. And so you would not.

Luckily, the first two days, it was easy to avoid Mr. Djarin entirely. The captain had taken him out riding or shooting or some such activity men enjoyed and they had dined out. Lady Georgiana had become a dear companion to you but she had begun to spend far too much time hinting at how much she liked the new guest. You would merely nod and smile and let your mind wander when she started to tell you how agreeable Mr. Djarin was or how he had been such a kind friend to her father.

On the third day, you had complained of a headache so you could excuse yourself from breakfast. After you had the tea and toast that Lady Georgiana had sent up to your room, you insisted a walk would be good for you and you set out across the grounds with your sketchbook.

You decided the stables were a good place to be left alone. It wasn’t like anyone would be looking for you there and, save the horses, there was nobody there. You found a little wooden chair and sat down to draw the horses and tack.

There was a beautiful black mare with white whiskers around her snout that you were sketching when you heard a noise. It was a funny little squeal. You thought you had imagined it until you heard it again. It had come from the empty horse stall at the very end and when you set down your sketchbook to investigate, you found a little boy sitting in the hay.

“Hello,” you said to him.

He smiled up at you. He looked incredibly sweet with chubby little cheeks. His ears seemed too big for his head and his eyes, too, were big and round. He wore a little brown suit with a delicate ruffle around the neck that was now covered in mud and hay.

“What are you doing in here?” you asked him, though he seemed too small to answer.

He babbled at you and held out something in his hand.

“What’s that?”

The child leaned forward, stretching towards you, and dropped it into your hand. It was a little silver ball that jingled like it had a bell within.

“Thank you,” you chuckled.

You shook it and it made a tinkling sound. He clapped his pudgy hands together, then planted them on the ground, and carefully got to his feet. He continued to yammer on as he tottered towards you, falling on his behind once, but determined to reach you on his own.

“Grogu!” You heard a voice from the path outside that you recognized. “Grogu!”

The boy scampered out of the stable and right up to the boot of Mr. Djarin.

“Where have you been, lad? They’re turning the whole house over looking for you,” he said.

He scooped the little boy up, holding his whole body in the crook of his arm, a wide hand grasping the boy’s calf. Grogu put a dirty hand up to Mr. Djarin’s chin and he laughed softly.

Now that you had the benefit of seeing him without a mask, you realized Mr. Djarin was, indeed, quite handsome. He had full lips and a prominent nose. His skin was a shade of gold that complimented his dark eyes. His starched collar met a square jaw that was dotted with stubble. In the sunlight, you could see that his soft curls and thick sideburns were threaded with grey hairs. The smile that spread over his features was so warm, you wished you could capture it in your sketchbook.

This was the infamous child, then. You saw little resemblance between Mr. Djarin and the lad but he held him so tenderly, it made you wonder if the rumors hadn’t been true.

That’s what you were pondering when the boy turned his attention back to you, pointing with a plump little finger. Mr. Djarin’s whole body stiffened when he saw you, his eyes turning sharp.

“Good morning,” you said with a curtsy.

His jaw clenched and he nodded.

“He was playing,” you tried, tilting your head back towards the stable.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“I was drawing the horses,” you explained.

His head tilted just slightly.

“Is that his name? Grogu?” You asked when Mr. Djarin failed to speak.

“Yes,” he said.

You smiled. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Grogu.”

You put out your hand and the lad wrapped his fingers around one of yours.

“Ebba!” he cried.

You laughed. When you glanced at Mr. Djarin he was looking at you with an expression you could only describe as fear. Your smile faltered.

“I take it your business was concluded. In a satisfactory manner, I hope?” you inquired politely.

His brow furrowed momentarily and he opened his mouth and then set Grogu down at his feet.

“Yes. I-” he cleared his throat. “Please, you must forgive me for my behavior at the masquerade. Lady Georgiana said that I offended you. That was not my intention.”

You felt heat in your cheeks once again, embarrassment mixed with anger. You couldn’t believe he had to be told that he had acted like an ass. “Not to worry, sir. My pride has already been damaged so thoroughly, what is but one more slight?”

The look that crossed his face was absolute horror. You would have apologized for speaking so plainly but you frankly didn’t care. What right did he have to judge you? To apologize like you were so pitiful when here he was with his love child. You knew what men like Mr. Djarin were like and you’d learned to keep a wide berth.

“I- I should tell them that I’ve found him,” Mr. Djarin said. “Good day.”

He turned to go back up the path.

“Wait!” you called.

You blushed when you realized how impolite it sounded. Mr. Djarin turned carefully but said nothing. You approached him, painfully aware of the way he stared at you. It was difficult to meet his eye. You swallowed and held out the child’s ball to him. Mr. Djarin put out his hand and you placed it in his palm. As you did, your fingertips brushed his hand and you shivered. His skin felt rough and his palm was so large compared to your own. Your breath caught and, for some reason, you wished he would close his fingers around yours. You quickly withdrew your hand.

The boy reached out for the ball with a coo.

“Much obliged,” Mr Djarin managed. He was still looking at you with intense concentration.

Your chest felt tight.

“I’ll let them know at the house,” you stuttered and after a quick curtsy you were rushing back up the path.

--- Chapter 2

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[translations-by-aiimee]

The Husky and His White Cat Shizun - Chapter 7

Original Title:  二哈和他的白猫师尊

Genres: Drama, Romance, Tragedy, Xianxia, Yaoi

This translation is based on multiple MTLs and my own limited knowledge of Chinese characters. If I have made any egregious mistakes, please let me know.

Chapter Index

Chapter 7 - This Venerable One Likes Wontons

The scorching sun was blazing.

The veranda of Life-Death Peak stretched for mile.

As a rising star among immortal cultivators, it was quite different from the other famous clans of the immortal world.

Take the most prosperous Rufeng Sect of Linyi. The main hall of the sect was called the "Six Virtues Hall", which intended to encourage disciples to be "wise, faithful, holy, righteous, benevolent, and loyal" in accordance with the six virtues. The area where the disciples live was called the "Six Behaviours Gate", which warns the disciples to practice "filial piety, friendship, harmony, marriage, responsibility, and compassion." The place where classes were taught was called "Six Arts Platform", which meant that disciples needed to be proficient in the six skills of "ritual, music, archery, riding, calligraphy, and mathematics".

All in all, its elegance was endless.

On the other hand, Life-Death Peak came from a poor background. Its names were hard to explain. "Danxin Hall" and "Platform of Righteousness and Evil" were alright. Perhaps it was because Mo Ran's father and his uncle weren't scholars and couldn't determine any better names. After a while, the names started to get more nonsensical, naming things "Xue Ya" -sounding names left and right.

Therefore, there are many plagiarised names from the underworld on Life-Death Peak. For example, the room where disciples practiced self-reflection was called Yanluo Hall.

The jade bridge connecting the resting area and the teaching area was called Naihe Bridge. The dining hall was called Mengpo Hall, the martial arts field was called Mountain of Daggers and Sea of Flames. The forbidden area of ​​the back of the mountain is called the Ghost Room, and so on.

These weren't too bad, but there were other places simply called "This is a mountain", "This is water", "This is a pit", as well as the famous "Ahhhhh" and "Wahhhhhh" cliffs.

The elders’ dormitories naturally did not escape, and each has their own nickname.

Chu Wanning was naturally no exception. He liked peace and didn't want to live near others. His residence was built on the South Peak of Life-Death Peak, hidden in a sea of ​​bamboo. There was a pool in front of the main hall, and the pool was red from lotus petals blocking the sunlight from reflecting off it. Because of its abundance of spiritual power, the lotus flowers were in full bloom all year round in the pool, like red clouds.

The disciples secretly called this beautiful place--

Red Lotus Hell.

When Mo Ran thought of this, he couldn't help but laugh.

Chu Wanning wore a terrifying face every single day, and the disciples who saw him thought he was the devil himself. Therefore, shouldn't the place where the devil stays be called hell?

Xue Meng interrupted his daydream: "You laugh even though you were scolded! Hurry up and eat breakfast. After eating, follow me to the Platform of Righteousness and Evil. Shizun will punish you in public today!"

Mo Ran sighed, and touched the whip mark on his face: "Hss. . . ow."

"You deserved it!"

"Hah, I wonder if Tianwen has been repaired. I hope he doesn't try it out on me again before it's fixed. Who knows what nonsense I might say."

In the face of Mo Ran's sincere concerns, Xue Meng's face flushed, and he angrily said: "If you dare to speak out indecently in public against Shizun, I'll rip your tongue out!"

Mo Ran covered his face and waved his hand faintly: "No need, no need, if Shizun ties me with willow vine again, I will end myself on the spot to prove my innocence."

When the hour came, Mo Ran was brought to the Platform of Righteousness and Evil according to customs. He looked around, and there was a deep blue sea of ​​people below. The disciples of Life-Death Peak all wore the sect uniform; blue so dark it was almost black armour, the lion's head belt, wrist guards and the silver threads gleaming on the hems of robes.

The rising sun, below the Platform of Righteousness and Evil, the sea of armour shone.

Mo Ran kneeled on the raised platform, listening to a chief elder list off a long list of the crimes he'd committed.

"Mo Weiyu, disciple of Elder Yuheng, arrogantly disregarded teachings, disobeyed the rules of the sect, and abandoned morality. You have violated the fourth, ninth, and fifteenth mandates of this sect. As punishment, you will receive 80 strikes, copy the sect rules a hundred times and reflect in solitude for a full month. Mo Weiyu, is there anything you have to say in your defense?"

Mo Ran glanced at the white figure in the distance.

That elder was the only member of Life-Death Peak who wasn't required to wear the standard blue and silver rim robe.

Chu Wanning's robe was made of snow-white satin, an outer robe made of cloud-patterned silver silk, like he was dressed in a heavenly frost, but the person wearing it seemed far more frigid than either snow or frost. He sat quietly, far enough away that Mo Ran couldn't see the expression on his face, but he knew that this person was probably completely unphased.

Mo Ran let out a deep sigh: "I have nothing to argue."

According to customary practice, the chief elder asked the disciples below: "If anyone is dissatisfied with the verdict, or has something else to say, this is the time to make such a statement."

All the disciples began to hesitate and averted their gaze.

None of them expected that the Yuheng Elder Chu Wanning would actually send his disciple to be punished publicly on the Platform of Righteousness and Evil.

To put it nicely, this person was impartial, but to word it differently, was also called a cold-blooded demon.

The cold-blooded demon Chu Wanning faintly propped his chin and sat in the position. Suddenly someone shouted with amplifying technique: "Elder Yuheng, this disciple is willing to plead for leniency on behalf of Young Master Mo."

". . . Plead?"

This disciple obviously felt that since Mo Ran was the nephew of Life-Death Peak's lord, even if he had screwed up this time, his future prospects would still be bright, so he decided to take the opportunity to win Mo Ran's favour. He began to talk nonsense: "Although Junior Brother Mo is at fault, he loves his fellow students and helps the weak. Please treat consider being lenient for the sake of his kind nature!"

Obviously, he was not the only one hoping to please Junior Brother Mo.

Gradually, more and more people spoke up for Mo Ran. They threw out all sorts of arguments, it made even Mo Ran embarrassed to hear; when had he ever had "an innocent heart, pure and open-minded"? This was a disciplinary meeting, not a commendation meeting, right?

"Elder Yuheng, Junior Brother Mo once helped me exterminate demons and killed deadly beasts. I would like to beg on Junior Brother Mo's behalf. His merits will offset his demerits, and I hope that Elder will lighten his punishment!"

"Elder Yuheng, Junior Brother Mo once helped me dispel my demons when I experience qi deviation. I believe Junior Brother Mo made a mistake this time and was only momentarily confused. I also ask Elder to please be lenient on Junior Brother!"

"Elder Yuheng, Junior Brother Mo once gave me an elixir to save my mother. He is a benevolent person. Please, Elder, punish him lightly!"

The last person’s remarks were based on the previous disciples', and he was at a loss for words. Seeing Chu Wanning's frozen eyes sweep over, the anxious disciple didn't hesitate to say: “Elder Yuheng, Junior Brother Mo once helped me dual cultivate--”

"Pff." Someone couldn't help laughing.

The disciple immediately blushed and retreated.

"Yuheng, calm your anger, calm your anger..." Seeing that the chief elder was not happy, he went to his side and hurriedly persuaded him.

Chu Wanning said coldly: "I have never seen such a shameless person. What is his name? Whose disciple?"

The chief elder hesitated a little, then bit the bullet and said softly, "My disciple, Yao Lian."

Chu Wanning raised his eyebrows: "Your disciple? Save face*?"

(Pronounced the same as Yao Lian's name)

The chief elder couldn't help but feel embarrassed, and his old face tried to change the subject with a red face: "He's talented at singing, and he can be useful when he receives the offerings."

Chu Wanning scoffed and turned away, not wanting to waste time talking nonsense with this shameless chief elder.

There were thousands of people on Life-Death Peak. A couple flatterers were nothing surprising.

Seeing the conviction in the faces of his sect brothers, Mo Ran himself almost trusted their words. Very impressive indeed. It turns out he wasn't the only person in this sect that knew how to concoct wild stories in broad daylight. There were many talented people here.

Chu Wanning, who had heard "Elder Yuheng, please be merciful" countless times, finally spoke to the disciples.

"Pleading for Mo Weiyu?" He paused and said, "Yes, all of you may come up."

Those people didn't know what would happen and went up tremblingly.

A golden light flashed in Chu Wanning's palm. Tianwen appeared as commanded, and wrapped around the dozens of people together with a whistle, and tied them firmly in place.

Not again!!

Mo Ran was beginning to get desperate. Just the sight of Tianwen made his legs weak. He really didn’t know where Chu Wanning got such a perverted weapon. It was a good thing he had never taken a wife in his previous life. The poor girl who would marry him, if she didn't get whipped to death, she would be questioned to death.

Chu Wanning's eyes were quite mocking. He asked one of them: "Mo Ran helped you ward off evil spirits?"

How could the disciple resist the torture of TIanwen? He immediately howled: "No! No!"

He asked another one: "Mo Ran helped you overcome your qi deviation?"

"Ah! Never! Never!"

"Mo Ran gave you an elixir?"

"Ah—! Help! No, no! I made it up! I made it up!"

Chu Wanning loosened the hold, but then raised his hand and waved the weapon fiercely, it crackling and blazing, Tianwen suddenly lashed out and hit the backs of the lying disciples.

There were screams instantly, blood splashing.

Chu Wanning's eyebrows furrowed, and he scolded: "What are you calling? Kneel down! Disciple attendant!"

"Here."

"Deliver the punishment!"

"Understood!"

As a result, instead of reaping the benefits of defending Mo Ran, each of them was beaten with ten strikes each for violating the mandate of deception, plus a bonus willow vine lash gifted by Elder Yuheng.

After nightfall, Mo Ran lay on his bed. Although he had been given medicine, his back was covered with staggered scars. He couldn't even turn himself over without almost crying from the pain. He sniffled.

He had been born, so whimpering like this made him look like a fluffy, abandoned kitten. But it was a pity that his thoughts didn't match that cute kitten image.

He gripped the bedding and bit into the sheets, imagining that this was that bastard Chu Wanning. He bit! Kicked! Stomped! Tore!

The only comfort is that Shi Mei came to visit him with a bowl of wontons. He stared at him with those gentle and pitiful eyes, and Mo Ran's tears fell even more fiercely.

He didn't care whether men were supposed to hold in their tears or not, he loved to act spoiled in front of the person he liked.

"Does it still hurt a lot? Can you sit up?" Shi Mei sat on the edge of his bed and sighed. "Shizun, he. . . he was too cruel. Look at your back. . . there are several wounds. Some are still bleeding."

Mo Ran's heart softened, a warmth gradually rose in his chest. His teary eyes lifted from the bedding and he blinked.

"Since Shi Mei cares about me so much, I, I'm not in too much pain anymore."

"Oh, how can it not hurt if you look like this? You know what Shizun's temperament is like, will you dare do something like this in the future?"

In the candlelight, Shi Mei looked at him a little helplessly and a little distressedly. The amorous eyes were gleaming, like warm spring water.

Mo Ran's heart moved slightly, and he cleverly said: "Never again. I swear.

"Does anyone believe your promises anymore?" Even though he said that, Shi Mei also smiled, "The wontons are getting cold, can you sit up? If you can't get up, just lie on your stomach and I will feed you."

Mo Ran had already climbed up halfway, but immediately collapsed back down when he heard this.

Shi Mei: ". . ."

Whether it was this life or his previous one, Mo Ran's favourite food was Shi Mei's handmade wontons. The dough was as thin as a cloud of smoke, and the filling was tender and moist, melting in his mouth after every bite.

Especially the soup, the milky consistency, sprinkled with green onions, tender yellow egg wisps, and topped with a spoonful of spicy chilli peppers fried with garlic. It made whoever ate it feel so warm that they would never be cold again.

Shi Mei carefully spoonfed him. While feeding him, he said: "I didn't put any chilli oil today. You're badly hurt. Spice isn't good for recovery. Just drink the broth instead."

Mo Ran stared at him and he couldn't look away. He smiled: "Spicy or not, as long as you made it, it's delicious."

"Smooth talker." Shi Mei also smiled, picking up a poached egg lying in the soup, "Here's your reward, I know you like them."

Mo Ran laughed, a small tuft of hair curling on his forehead, like a flower blooming: "Shi Mei."

"What's happening?"

"Nothing, I just felt like saying your name."

". . ."

The hair tuft swayed back and forth.

"Shi Mei."

Shi Mei held back a smile: "Just felt like it again?"

"Hmm, just saying your name makes me happy."

Shi Mei sat silently for a moment then gently touched his forehead: "Silly boy, do you have a fever?"

Mo Ran let out a laugh. He rolled over, looking at him sideways, his eyes bright, as if full of fine stars.

"It would be a dream if I could eat Shi Mei's wontons every day"

He truly meant it.

After Shi Mei died, Mo Ran had always wanted to try the wontons he made again, but it is what it is, and he wasn't coming back.

At that time, Chu Wanning hadn't completely broken off all relations with him. Whether it was out of guilt or something else, he didn't know, but when he saw Mo Ran knelt in front of Shi Mei's coffin in a daze, Chu Wanning went quietly to the kitchen, kneaded dough and minced the fillings, carefully folded a couple wontons. But Mo Ran saw what he was doing before he had finished. With the loss of the love of his life, Mo Ran just couldn't bear it. He felt like Chu Wanning was doing it to mock him, a botched attempt at imitating them, a deliberate insult to injury.

Shi Mei was dead. Chu Wanning could have saved him, but he refused to help. Afterwards, he wanted to replace Shi Mei and make wontons for Mo Ran instead? Did he think that this would make him happy?

He rushed into the kitchen and knocked over all the utensils. The round wontons fell out of his hands and all over the floor.

He screamed at Chu Wanning: "Who the hell do you think you are? You think you're worthy of replacing him? Of making the food he used to? Shi Mei is dead, are you satisfied? Or do you have to torture your disciples until they go mad or die before you're happy? Chu Wanning! No one in this world can make those wontons anymore. You can try but you'll never be him!"

Now he was eating this bowl with such deep joy. He slowly ate them, savouring them. Although he was still smiling, his eyes were a little moist. Fortunately, the candlelight was dim, and Shi Mei couldn't see his subtle expression clearly.

Mo Ran said: "Shi Mei."

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

Shi Mei froze for a moment, and then smiled gently: "Isn't it just a bowl of wontons? No need to be so formal about it. If you like them, I will always make them for you in the future."

Mo Ran wanted to say, the thanks wasn't just for the wontons.

Thank you also, whether in the last life or in this life, for being the only one to look out for me, not caring about my origins, didn't care about the fourteen years I spent scavenging around.

Thank you, because if it weren't for the sudden thought of you, after being reborn, I'm afraid I would not be able to stop myself from killing Rong Jiu. I would've made a big mistake, and walked the same path I had before.

Fortunately, in this life, I was reborn before you die. I will definitely take good care of you. If you are sick, and that cold-blooded demon Chu Wanning is unwilling to save you, I will.

But how could he have said these words aloud?

In the end, Mo Ran just drank the soup, leaving not even a single green onion behind. He licked his lips unconsciously, his dimples prominent, and he was as cute as a very fluffy little cat.

"Will there be more tomorrow?"

Shi Mei couldn't help but shake his head: "You don't want something else? Won't you get sick of them?"

"I'll never get tired of your wontons, as long as you don't get tired of making them."

Shi Mei shook his head and smiled: "I don't know if there's enough flour left. If there's not enough, I'm afraid I can't make it. If I can't, do you think the eggs in sweet soup are alright instead? They are also one of your favourites."

"Okay, okay. As long as you make it, anything is okay."

Mo Ran's heart surged. He was so happy he could roll around in the blankets.

Look at caring Shi Mei is, Chu Wanning, you go screw yourself! I get to lie in bed with a beauty taking care of me, hehe!

Thinking of Shizun, a rush of anger mixed with the tenderness he had been feeling.

Mo Ran started to dig the bottom of the headboard with resentment again. He cursed, what Yuheng of the Night Sky, what the Beidou Immortal, it's all fucking bullshit!

Chu Wanning, just wait and see!!

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

[stovetuna]

How much does Steve melt, the first time he sees how good Tony is with kids?

anon I am so busy with work but there are so many good li’l prompts in my inbox OH NO WHATEVER SHALL I DO anyways—

obvs there’s the scenario in which steve and tony are already together/in a deeply committed relationship (see also: MARRIED) and are discussing kids and whether or not they want to adopt or use a surrogate or if they should even do it given who they are and what their lives are like (and ofc Tony would have at least one “oh god what if I’m a horrible father like Howard was??” meltdown for some extra ~drama~)

but it’s me, and you know I *live* for pining!Steve, so imagine: Steve (who has been nursing a crush on Tony for ages but doesn’t want to ruin their friendship/doesn’t think he’s good enough/doesn’t think Tony wants him that way/take your pick of Steve angst) volunteers to join Tony at a very Tony-specific event, say, an MIT job fair. lots of smart kids doing smart things way above even Steve’s pay grade all clamoring to work for Stark Industries or intern for the Avengers tech squad or NASA, etc. (Steve would also like to talk to the folks at NASA because let’s not forget our man is an absolute nerd in his own right and would like to volunteer for their next, extra-dangerous space mission...)

Steve basically acts as body-man-slash-Tony’s-time-manager the whole time, because he knows Tony is liable to get tunnel vision if someone comes to him with a particularly good idea. The MIT kids are more interested in the science of Steve than Steve himself, so once he makes it clear that Tony’s the one to talk to about anything super-serum related, they all pretty much leave him alone. 

which is fine, because that leaves Steve with extra time to just observe Tony in one of his many elements: talking “cool science stuff” with the next generation of the world’s brightest minds, hands waving around, suit jacket and tie discarded, his hair a mess after running his excited fingers through it one too many times—happy. He gets to watch Tony be happy and excited and genuinely engaged with people who understand him, which makes Steve pine that much harder because Tony can never be that around Steve, of course!! Steve’s not smart or quick enough to even come close :((( 

(steve, darling, your low sense of self-worth is showing.)

AND THEN! an older student—I like to imagine a mom who fought tooth and nail to get back into school after having to leave for a number of years to deal with Life Stuff and eventually managed to nab a spot in one of MIT’s grad programs beyond all hope, all on her own—approaches the Stark Industries table with a very fussy, very noisy, very literal baby strapped to her chest. 

Steve turns around to tell Tony his 3 o’ clock is here, but oh look, Tony is already there, telling Steve as he passes “oh my god Steve look it’s a baby!” and then stumbling around the table in his excitement, eyes big and round and shining. he the woman’s resume before she can even try to hand it to him (Steve usually is fast enough to intercede) and folds it up and places it in his wallet before he’s asking her—Shantelle, her name is Shantelle—if he can hold the baby while they talk. 

so Steve’s helplessly watching as Shantelle unhooks the contraption while Tony holds the baby—Faith, who’s maybe six or seven months old and already has her mother’s eyes—under her arms and then moves her around to cradle her against his chest. Steve watches the two adults move around to the other side of the table out of the throes of traffic to talk, and they do, intensely and excitedly and animatedly, but all the while Tony holds baby Faith in his arms, running a knuckle down the middle of her back and humming under his breath whenever he stops talking. he looks—he looks blissed out, Steve thinks, and Faith is passed out completely, drooling on Tony’s very expensive shirt and gripping his designer sunglasses hanging from his collar in one sticky, chubby fist.

by the end of their half hour meeting, Shantelle has a job at SI and Faith has an ample education fund (K-12 AND college) waiting for her, personal courtesy of Tony Stark. and Steve literally just stares at them the whole time, at the drooling, sleeping baby on Tony’s chest, at the shine in the man’s eyes when he passes her back to her mother, at the smiling way Tony tells Shantelle not to worry about the drool or the crushed glasses, at the wave he sends her off with. 

Steve is ready to propose on the spot. he doesn’t, but he imagines it, because he would literally put down his life, his shield, if it meant giving Tony a life in which they could have a family and he’d get to see Tony’s face light up like that every day. it’s such a perfect, beautiful fantasy Steve almost tears up on the spot. 

all he manages, after the fair is over and Steve’s talked to the NASA folks and their arms are full of resumes, is “I didn’t know you liked kids so much.” it comes out kinda gruff because he’s still lowkey on the verge of tears just imagining carrying around a baby while Tony makes cooing noises at her or letting her sleep on his chest after he’s passed out on the workshop couch. 

meanwhile Tony’s off and babbling about how babies and young kids are purely innocent with zero ulterior motives or cynicism and they just make him look forward to the future that much more because “babies are the purest expression of hope I can imagine” and Steve’s heart CLENCHES, but he says nothing.

later on, he draws Tony like that: fast asleep on the ratty workshop sofa, a baby passed out on his chest, his arm around her to keep her from rolling off, instinctual protectiveness amplified by his being Tony Stark, who would rather die than see someone he loves get hurt. 

as Steve shuts the notebook and turns out the light, he imagines the baby opening bright eyes the same color blue as Steve’s and grinning toothlessly when she sees him standing in the workshop doorway. he falls asleep thinking about that. he spends every day of the next week thinking about that. every time he looks at Tony, his subconscious adds a baby, and that shining look in Tony’s eyes. and he wants it. all of it.

finally, after a tough mission and an even tougher de-brief, in the middle of Tony ranting—halfway out of his seat—at Steve about him holding the reins too tight and not letting the team improvise enough, Steve just stares straight into Tony’s eyes and says, “I’ll make it up to you if you let me take you to dinner tonight.” 

he doesn’t know where it came from, but it’s worth it given how Tony all but swallows his tongue and just dumbly nods, still halfway out of his seat, hand hanging in the air mid-jabbing finger motion. 

that evening, Steve takes him to a Burger King that still has a play area kids can use and delights in watching Tony try to focus on his date with Steve and the gaggle of toddlers in the ball pit on the other side of the glass. it’s the best first date Steve’s ever had (and his last first date, period. naturally). 

[imerdwarf]

Under The Wakandan Sky

Requested by @tieddown-withbattleshipchains: Hii <3 I hope it’s okay to send in another Buck imagine. Maybe where you’re a technician and you get send to Wakanda to help Shuri with his new arm. During the time there you get really close to Buck and he starts opening up to you and recovers really fast. One night he sees you then sitting at the lake where his cabin is, watching the stars, so he joins you and you end up sharing a meaningful kiss. The next morning Shuri looks out for you and sees you coming out of his cabin with a grin? :)

Pairings: Recovery!Bucky X Reader

Warnings: Some cute fluffness 💜🥺

Author's Notes: My dear @tieddown-withbattleshipchains you are always welcome to send in as many requests as you wish! 💜 Thank you very much for this beautiful request and I hope you like it 💜

Divider was made by me.

It's only been a couple of weeks since you've arrived in Wakanda to help Shuri work on Bucky Barnes new arm. The beauty of Wakanda was out of this world, the yellow and orange sunsets that seemed to bounce off the rippling water of the lake that made this decision totally worth it.

The neighbours were friendly, mostly some bleating goats that loved to munch on your free slices of bread and headbutt you for attention.

Your hut was adequate for you, room for a small chair and table just inside and a small single bed at the back. The pillared candles made it even more so cosy and your human neighbour next door made it all the better.

Bucky lived in the hut next to yours. He was quiet and you rarely heard a peep out of him. Some mornings you'd find him digging holes in his farmland to bury some potatoes and other vegetables. T'Challa had told you Barnes wanted to contribute as much as he could, as a thank you to everyone for not giving up on him.

Bucky was somewhat shy around you at first. Shuri joked that you rendered the man speechless with your good looks and could see the heart eyes palpitating from his eye sockets.

The truth was it was exactly the same for you, every time he would enter the lab your heart would beat so loudly that you were so sure he could hear them. Your hands would also turn clammy and your sentences would come out jumbled.

It was on the fifth week of your stay that you really started to notice the change. Bucky was becoming more open with you, telling you snippets from his past, the littlest details that he could remember he would come straight to you with them. You were so proud of him. He was forgiving himself for all the things hydra made him do, he seeked forgiveness from Tony but that was still early days.

Bucky was handfeeding some of his goats while you looked on from your hut. It was the first time you've seen him smile this much. His laugh reached your ears and pulled on your heart strings when one goat was becoming frisky and tried it's hardest to pull his outfit off.

As the days went on, you would find yourself spending more and more time with Bucky. Taking midnight strolls, sitting outside your huts and just talking until sunrise if that's what he needed. The more time you spent with him and got to know the real him, the more stronger your feelings were becoming and it was the scariest thing you've ever experienced. Shuri knew all the signs and she has been telling you since you arrived that he liked you.

Maybe Shuri had a point, maybe, just maybe there was some kind of possibility of Bucky liking you.

Bucky was recovering more quickly, he had more good days than bad and his arm was nearly ready for testing. It was painted in a matte black with a gold design that Shuri designed. You made the suggestion of adding an indent to the ring finger should Bucky ever choose to get married one day in the future. Of course, this prompted a wedding joke from Shuri that maybe you would be his spouse and started to tell you how weddings worked here in Wakanda.

On the seventh week, Bucky's new arm was finally functioning thanks to your help. It was stored away safely in a brief case, ready to be fitted the next day. His scars were still healing, and the doctors in Wakanda still had a lot of work to do to make them less painful. But at least this arm was built for comfort.

It was also the summer months, the hot humidity kept you awake at night and you found yourself sitting on the bank of the lake staring up at the bright twinkling stars. The calm water would ripple occasionally from the dozen of fish that lived in the lake and the distant bleating of the goats brought a smile to your face.

This was most definitely not something you'd find back in New York, and the longer you stayed here, the more sure you were that you didn't really want to leave. You realised a while ago that going home wouldn't be the same anyway, especially if it meant you had to leave Bucky here.

The ruffled grass from behind you made you look over your shoulder. You didn't even attempt to stop the growing smile when you saw Bucky approach you, looking handsome as ever with his bun half up that the children did while he was sleeping.

"Hey you. What are you doing up?" You asked him, your voice seemed to evaporate in the quietness of the air.

"My hut was like an oven." Bucky laughed and took a seat next to you. A bead of sweat glistened on his forehead and down his chest from the summer's heat. It really did feel like you were suffocating.

His right arm brushed against yours and despite the hot air, a shiver ran down your spine. The silence between you was comfortable, but it did feel like there were unspoken words between you.

"It's beautiful." You meant the clear night sky, but your eyes were focused on Bucky. He was grateful it was dark out to hide the rosy pink blush he was sure would appear on his cheeks any second from your words.

"So are you." Bucky licked his lips. His eyes flickered from your eyes to your lips, a silent question that you answered by closing the gap and connecting your lips with his. Bucky couldn't help but moan into your mouth from how perfect it felt. This was something he had wanted to do from the second he laid eyes on you. His envisions of how your lips would feel and taste became a reality and for you, it felt like fireworks were going off in the pit of your stomach.

Your arms wrapped tightly around his neck to deepen the kiss. Your lips were tingling and you don't remember anyone ever kissing you so passionately, with so much raw emotion before.

The way he was kissing you was like he was pouring all of his feelings out, silently telling you how he felt and you reciprocated those feelings by kissing him even harder and moving to sit in his lap.

**The next morning**

Shuri was looking all over the place for you. In just an hour it was time to attach Bucky's arm and give him some new clothes. Shuri checked your hut multiple times, and almost gave up when she saw you were practically skipping out of Bucky's hut with a super wide dopey grin on your face and oh my, were those hickeys on your neck?

"Eh, eh!" Shuri teased, giggling when you blushed and waved her off. "I told you it would happen!"

"Yes, yes you did. Please don't make it awkward for him."

"Aw don't worry, I'm sure the goats will tell me the juicy details." Shuri laughed with you and threw Bucky a double thumbs up when he walked out of his hut feeling like a brand new man.

The two of you couldn't wait to embark on a new adventure together. The future was bright, like the burning sun that was shining down over Wakanda. And it was under the Wakandan stars that held all of your secrets.

[escapewithbts]

“Just Benefits?”(Part One) - Jungkook

————————————————

You stretched out your arms and shielded your tired eyes from the morning sunlight peaking through the curtain. Upon sitting up you noticed the space in the bed next to you was empty. You wrapped the sheet closer around your almost naked body as it had gotten colder without another human lying next to you radiating warmth. You rubbed your eyes and yawned before grabbing your phone from the nightstand. An array of text messages were waiting for you.

7:34am From Jungkook: Hey y/n

7:34am From Jungkook: Sorry I’m not there, I had an early meeting

7:34am From Jungkook: Stay as long as you like

7:45am From Jungkook: Also I just want to say I had a good time talking with you last night

You locked the phone without responding and pulled off the covers. Then you got out of the bed and searched the floor for something to put on over your underwear. You only had jeans and a blouse, so you opted for Jungkook's oversized black t shirt from last night and a pair of his shorts. They were massive on you but you were comfy. You picked up your pants and shirt off the floor and folded them neatly on the bed as memories from the night before appeared in your mind;

8:10pm from Jungkook: I had such a rough day. Want to come over?

8:10pm to Jungkook: I’m at work

8:11pm from Jungkook: Ok, after?

8:11pm to Jungkook: Sure. I’m off at 10.

8:12pm from Jungkook: I’ll be at the dorm, text when you get here so I can buzz you in

You sighed and clicked off your phone. This was the third night this week he asked you to come over and it was only Wednesday. You weren't necessarily complaining, it was better than going to your own apartment where you lived alone, but you couldn't help but wonder why he was asking so much.

You guys kind of had an unspoken arrangement; to spend the night at each other's places when the other felt stressed or in need of companionship. You would have sex, of course, sometimes cuddle a little bit after, and then go on about your days the next morning.

You had met through one of your close friends, Kim Namjoon. He was in the same band as Jungkook, the famous k-pop group BTS. You had known Jungkook through RM for years now, you wouldn't have said you were friends, but you were always friendly and liked hanging out with him in a group. This part of your relationship with Jungkook however was relatively new.

It had all started one night when you were hanging out at their place with all of them, watching movies and drinking... maybe a little too much. All the other guys had gone to bed, leaving you and Jungkook alone and tipsy. Jungkook had always been shy, just like you, so when the two of you ended up kissing on the couch it took you both by surprise. One thing lead to another and before you knew it you were both naked in his bed. The sex was good, no great, so great in fact that you both knew you wanted to keep having it. And that's what lead you to this unspoken agreement you had. That first time was months ago now, and the two of you hadn't even talked about the future, nor the present for that matter. You were enjoying each other's company and not putting any kind of label on it... but you knew that always seemed to end up in a mess.

After work, you drove straight to the boy's dorm, notifying Jungkook of your arrival via text. You pressed the call box and waited for the front door to open. Jungkook answered after just a few seconds. He was wearing an oversized black t shirt and boxers, his long black hair was tousled about his head, and his dark brown eyes looked tired, his cherubic face slightly puffy. You had to admit, he looked very sexy, yet also adorable, and it caused you to feel butterflies in your stomach. You ignored them.

  "y/n..." his big smile and your name in his soft voice made your knees weak, "I'm glad you're here."

You smiled at him slightly.

  "Is anyone else home?" you asked quietly.

  "Jimin and Namjoon-hyung, but they're asleep."

You nodded in response and he stepped closer to you, pinning you against the now closed front door. He wrapped his long arms around your waist and buried his face in your neck, kissing your weak spot. It made you moan. How could he do that so quickly? You felt him smile against your skin and it sent a shiver down your spine.

  He took your hand and lead you down the hallway to his bedroom. It was basically a routine now. As soon as he shut the door, you were pulling off each other's clothes, kissing passionately between each layer removed. You never got tired of looking at him naked; his perfectly toned arms and thighs, his six pack and deep v hip muscles, the sleeve of tattoos that lined his hand and arm. He had a beautiful body, and that was something you had no problem admitting to yourself.

For being the youngest member in the group, he sure knew what he was doing. He was extremely shy on the surface, but that all disappeared in bed.

When you both had finished (you multiple times thanks to Jungkook), he laid down behind you and wrapped an arm around your waist and the other under your head, like a big spoon and little spoon. He lazily ran his fingertips along your bare side and it gave you goosebumps.

  "You've asked me here a lot this week," you stated matter-of-factually.

You felt him sigh softly.

   "Yeah, work's been kind of tough."

You traced the purple heart tattoo on his hand with your finger gently, then moved to the ARMY symbol to do the same.

   "I'm sorry."

You wanted to know more, but you didn't want to pry.

He sighed again and buried his face in your messy hair.

   "Your hair smells so nice." he said muffled.

You smiled.

  "Thanks."

There was a pause before he spoke again.

"Plus, I like having you here. In my bed."

That made your heart skip a beat, but you had to ignore it.

"I like being in your bed." you replied shyly.

He scooted himself closer to you, if that was even possible, so close that you could feel his pounding heart in the middle of your back.

"Um.. h-how was your day?" he questioned.

The two of you didn't usually talk much after, hardly at all actually, but this was nice.

"It was okay. Just went to work. Pretty uneventful," you shrugged, "How was yours?"

Jungkook removed his arm from under you and turned so he was lying on his back, his arm resting under his head. You did the same.

"Aishh, it was okay. It's been a little stressful lately. It's different with everything that's been going on. We haven't even really experienced anything like it, obviously."

You nodded in understanding.

"But.. you still enjoy it?" you couldn't help but wonder out loud.

He ran a hand through his messy hair.

   "Yes, I love it. I get to work with my 6 hyungs every day. But..." he paused, "It's hard sometimes, too. We are constantly busy, constantly booked. Album after album, performance after performance, always filming something, doing press, shooting videos... it can be a lot. We're coming out with a new album in a few weeks, as I'm sure Namjoon-hyung has mentioned, so we've been trying to put on the finishing touches. It's a great album, I was able to write a lot of it and share my ideas and we're really proud. But there are other things I want to do, too."

  "Like what?"

He scrunched his face in thought for a moment.

  "Release my solo mixtape. I've been working on for literally years. It hasn't felt good enough, but maybe I'm also too picky. And direct more videos. I like directing a lot. I love taking photos and videos, especially of the people and things I love. So I don't know... stuff like that."

He shrugged.

  "I'm sure you will find time," you tried reassuring him.

  "Sometimes it feels like there isn't enough time in the world."

He paused before turning his head to you.

  "Sorry, for ranting about it," he blushed shyly, but gave you a shy smile.

You smiled back.

  "I don't mind."

He stretched out his arm, creating in opening between his shoulder and upper arm. He patted the space above the pit of his arm with his other hand.

"Do you... want to lay your head here?" he asked cautiously, hoping it wasn't too bold of a move to ask.

You nodded slowly and moved closer to him, resting your head in the nook he had made, laying your arm across his chest. You felt nervous, as this wasn't a position you two had ever laid in before. You couldn't believe how well you seemed to fit together, and how warm and comfortable he was. You closed your eyes and felt the rise and fall of his chest with every breath he took. It made you sleepy.

"Thank you for coming over tonight." he mumbled, kissing your forehead softly.

"Mmmhmm..." you responded sleepily.

He caressed your hair gently over and over, lulling you to dreamland.

Before you were completely out however, you heard him say,

"I wish you'd just stay over every night..."

You left Jungkook's room and was met with the bright sunlight coming in through the large windows that looked over the city of Seoul. You desperately needed some coffee so you made your way into the large kitchen.

"I thought I saw your car here when I left for my bike ride this morning!"

Namjoon's back was turned toward you upon you entering the kitchen, but he still noticed your sudden presence. He was pouring coffee grounds into the machine preparing to make a pot.

"Good morning, Joonie," you responded groggily.

You pulled out a stool from under the kitchen island and sat down, leaning your arms on the countertop.

"And how was your night with our golden boy JK?" he asked teasingly.

You blushed. You had told Namjoon when you guys had first started hooking up, but it was still kind of embarrassing having everyone know about it.

"It was fine..." you mumbled back, fiddling with your fingers.

Namjoon turned around and you were met with his dimpled smile.

"Ahhh, I can't believe our maknae is all grown up... and with one of my best friends nonetheless!" he chuckled, "Life sure is weird."

You rolled your eyes at him.

"I wouldn't say he's with me exactly," you corrected him.

He cocked his head.

"No? Then what would you call it?"

You shrugged, avoiding eye contact with your friend.

"I'm not sure..."

He stared at you in disbelief.

"You guys have talked about it at least, right?"

Your silence was all the response he needed.

"Oh my god, (y/n), come on!" he threw his hand up to his forehead and ran it through his brown hair.

"What, Joonie?" you protested, "It's not exactly an easy conversation to have."

"Well of course not, but it's a conversation you should have."

You sighed. You knew he was right.

He leaned in front of you, placing his elbows in his palms.

"He likes you, (y/n)."

You scoffed.

"No, no," you waved your hands in disagreement, "he doesn't. Not like that."

He raised his eyebrows.

"He's constantly asking me about you, (y/n). Wondering what you're up to, what things you like, how he should respond to you."

You looked at him in surprise.

"He is?"

Your heart started racing.

"Yes," he continued, "You're older than him so it's intimidating. I think he's worried about saying the wrong thing, or coming off too strong towards you."

You couldn't believe what you were hearing. Why hadn't Namjoon told you this before? Were you that unobservant that you hadn't noticed Jungkook had feelings for you? Or was Namjoon exaggerating? Your mind was racing. You put your head in your palms and rubbed your face, overwhelmed with this new information. You groaned.

"I'm sorry, (y/n) I thought you two had talked about it." he paused, "So what are you then... like friends with benefits?"

You shook your head and shrugged.

"I-I don't know... just benefits?"

It was Namjoon's turn to groan.

"Ahhhhh shit, that never ends well."

"Well what do I do, Namjoon-ah?" you asked in concern.

He thought for a moment.

"Do you like him?"

You felt your stomach flop. It was a question you had been avoiding asking yourself. And now here was Namjoon asking you for an answer.

You ran a hand through your hair.

"I really don't know..."

And that was the truth. Though you had idea of the answer, you weren't sure you were ready to admit it to yourself... or anyone else for that matter.

"Well, I encourage you to try and figure it all out," he stood up straight and turned to grab two mugs out of the cupboard, "I love you and I love Jungkook-ah, I really don't want to see either of you get hurt."

"Yeah..." you agreed quietly.

He poured both you a cup of coffee then opened the refrigerator.

"Now, what should I make us for breakfast?"

[viseralantlers]

less and less (c!wilbur x reader)

warnings: character death, guilt

note: based on the song less and less by matt maltese ! listen to this song like I cant recommend it highly enough, like even completely removed from this piece ! seriously a beautiful song. <3333

We make an end

It seems short-sighted

“You need to stop this madness. We died for that place. That’s our home, Wilbur.” I try to push him to reason knowing deep down it wouldn’t make a difference.

“y/n, it’s all wrong. L’manberg It’s all wrong.” for once he wasn’t quick to anger, quick to yell. 

“I need you, Wilbur.” I felt hot tears build in my eyes “I need you here.” Wilbur stepped back away from me a grim expression covering his face. Light accentuating his eyebags.

“I’m sorry, y/n.”

But in our defense

We were damn young

“Our new country! L’manberg!” Wilbur stood at the top of a hill, his hands reaching for the open sky. I laughed at his declaration, climbing the hill to wrap my arms around him. He hugged me back, laying my head on my shoulder as we embraced in silence.

“Here’s to new beginnings,” I whispered in his ear, a smile clear in my voice. He pulled away placing his hands on my face, kissing me with a smile. 

“New beginnings, y/n.”

And unspent

Making choices with our innocence

Battle wounds that ached, a scar from a new death, but we did it. With so much sacrifice, we did it. Wilbur’s face was concentrated as he worked on perfecting words.

“You know what,” he stood “suuckkk it greeeennnnn boyyyyyyy.” I laughed as everyone around us broke into celebration. It seemed as though our future was insured and bright, I was ready to build a real country alongside the man I trusted with my heart.

And October ends

We grow closer to our other friends

Where I sat beside you

I sit now, reflect

I absently sat with my back pressed against Eret’s tower, where a wheat field used to reside before Schlatt, before Wilbur. A dull pain seemed to resonate through my body as I looked at the long shadows cast into the pit that was under L’manberg, which was slowly filling with sparkling water that reflected the city lights. Tubbo’s L’manberg was beautiful and cohesive, I was happy it felt like a home again, just not my own.

I would never belong here again, a piece of a puzzle that wouldn’t ever fit. The ghost of warmth found itself at my side, a sensation that I knew too well to be fake. 

And walk by buildings

Til it makes no sense

and no matter how many times I looked at the recreated buildings I knew it was wrong. My tie to this place had been cut, I just didn’t have anywhere else to go. I wandered the docks that were raised above the pit. Searching for something that was long gone and unable to come back. 

And I know you should take yourself

Feel the rhythm life goes on again

I felt my heart sputter when I saw a man in a yellow sweater, skin pale, a bleeding hole in the center of his chest. He turned around, face filled with a gentle smile. Looked through by brown doe eyes. 

“Wilbur?” I felt my world flip around as he perked up at the name that felt bitter in my mouth.

“Hi! I’m Ghostbur!” he scurried up to me with a grin. “And you are?”

“y/n.” I forced a smile. 

Though I ain't sure it's really how we meant

I'll feel settled in a simple sense

“Ghostbur come here!” I called over to the ghost that I worked to separate from the man I had knew, he came with a smile. “Isn’t this your sheep.” the crudely dyed blue sheep bawwed affectionately as Ghostbur came up to it.

“Friend!” he leaned down to be face to face with the sheep. I studied his side profile with a gentle smile. He reminded me of the Wilbur I knew so long ago. A man unhurt by the world. “Thanks, y/n!”

“For sure, Ghostbur.” I reached out to touch him but quickly retracted my hand as if burned. I was glad he hadn’t noticed the motion. “Anytime you need me, I’m here.”

Cause I think of you

Less and less

I sat with my knees pulled up to my chest staring at the messy grave that had been constructed for Wilbur, stray tears going down my cheeks. He never got a funeral, maybe that had been my job, maybe I had failed him in that aspect as well. The man that died wasn’t who I had fallen in love with, not really. In some way, I felt at fault for his death, maybe I could have gotten him help. I paused as I heard quiet steps come up behind me.

“y/n?” of course it had been Ghostbur. He seemed to like hanging around me more than the others in L’manberg. Maybe it was something subconscious, a connection that death couldn’t sever completely by forgotten memories. 

“Hey, Ghostbur.” I was quick to wipe my tears before turning to face the gentle ghost.

“Why are you here?” his voice was higher pitched than Wilbur’s had been, echoey. He seemed worried. 

“No reason, paying respects I guess.” I looked over at the blue cornflowers I had placed with a bittersweet smile. 

Cause I think of you

Less and less

[dibs4ever]

Family photo

17-year-old Barbara Gordon was practically skipping up the steps of Wayne manor. Too excited to contain herself over what she held in her hands

Giving the door two knocks and only waiting 5 seconds when Alfred opened it

“Ms. Gordon, you and Master Dick have been walking to school together for 6 months now. I told you to just come in.”

She smiled, stepping into the manor “Sorry Alfie, my dad taught me to always knock, guess it’s a habit” she shrugged

Alfred nodded

“Where is the Boy Wonder?” She asked glancing around the foyer for her friend

Alfred sighed “It seems the young lad is tired and sluggish this morning after last night's patrol. He is still sleeping in his bed. I have been trying to wake him for 30 minutes. Perhaps you may have better luck?”

Barbara nodded “I have something to show him anyways.” She began up the stairs

“And Ms.Gordon,” Alfred spoke

Barbara nodded, continuing up the stairs “I know, I know-keep the door open.” Not like Alfred had anything to worry about. Furthest they’d ever gone was kissing. Once on a dare at his birthday party than a few weeks back for an undercover mission

She reached Dick’s bedroom door and smiled at the lump in the bed. There Dick lay, face down in his pillow, the blanket covering only the left side of his body. Dressed in only his white boxers with red polka dots.

She strutting into the room, clutching the paper in her hand. “Grayson get up” she sat on the side of the bed and patted his butt “Come on up and at em” she repeated resting a hand on his muscular calf

He let out a grunt

Barbara smiled but rolled her eyes, sitting on her knees she leaned forward so her face was next to his. His eyes still closed. If she didn’t know any better she’d think he was still fast asleep

“Dick wakes up I have-“

She was cut off when Dick used his arm to pull her down, so she was laying next to him. Pulling her flush against him, hugging her tightly “You are such a cuddle bug when you’re tired” she mumbled into his chest, his body heat radiating off of him to her

He nodded, nuzzling his head into her neck

She could feel light butterfly kisses from his eyelashes grazing her skin. Creating butterflies of her own in the pit of her belly. Lately, the Boy Wonder had been having that effect on her and she wasn’t sure how she felt about it. She definitely wasn’t going to let him know that.

“Dick comes on- we’ll be late for school and like I said I want to show you something I found.” She patted his back encouraging him to move

He did, but not to get up. Shifting himself so she was lying on the mattress and he was hovering over her. Leaning on his elbows to keep a respectable distance, his dark locks hanging messily around his face, almost like a small curtain, she noted. He was awake now. She knew because his bright blue eyes bore into her green ones and he was giving her that goofy smirk that could make her say yes to anything.

“Hey” he whispered huskily, his throat dry from sleep

She smiled up at him “Hey” she spoke softly. Those Damn butterfly’s coming to her throat. She had decided to just attribute these new feelings to teenage hormones and NOT to Dick. There was no way he felt the same, besides. They were friends and she was finally starting to gain Batman’s trust as a vigilante. How bad would it look if she made a move on him?

“Whatcha got to show me Babsy that’s got you so excited on a Tuesday?” Dick reached down tucking a stray hair behind her ear.

She lifted her arm and passed the photo she’d printed to him.

Dick looked at it and sat up once he realized who it was off, Barbara followed in suit, both sitting side by side on the edge of his bed.

“Babs, where did you find this?” He practically gasped

She smiled “I’ve been doing archival research of newspapers in my free time”

Dick looked toward her “For me?”

Barbara shrugged “Ever since we did that genetics assignment in Chem class a few months ago and you told me the only photo you had of your parents was that faded wedding picture and that there are no pictures of you before you were 8 I got to thinking there had to be at least one more published by a newspaper. I mean you guys traveled to so many different cities ya know.”

Dick nodded still in astonishment of the photo

He placed a finger over them then read the newspapers caption out loud

“Haley’s circus was in town this weekend. Among the many acts, one crowd favorite was the Acrobats. The famous flying Grayson’s. Here they are pictured above with their 8-month-old son Richard. Who travels with them. “

She smiled “You were such a cute baby.”

He grinned “I guess I was Huh?” He looked up from the photo

“Babs this is amazing not only do I have a better picture of my parents I have a photo of me as a baby to show my- I mean I well “

“Future kids? If we don’t get killed or become infertile from injuries before that ?”

Dick nodded “and given I find a partner willing to have babies with a vigilante.”

She laughed lightly “That’s true”

Dick was looking back at the photo again “Babs I’m taken back I could kiss you right now.” He paused “I didn’t mean to say that, I’m so focused on this beautiful family picture you found it just -Thank you so much for doing this for me”

Barbara leaned over placing a peck on his cheek “Your welcome Grayson”

[joheun-saram]

Whenever, Wherever (jhs)

Summary- Hoseok is a time traveller but that’s not the strangest thing that has happened to him. The strangest thing is when he meets a girl he’s never seen and she tells him he’s her best friend.

word count- 6.7k

pairing- timetraveler!Hoseok x Reader 

rating- R

genre- angst, fluff, smut

warnings- car accident, mention of parental death, mention of miscarriage, major character death, description of gun shot wound (but not gory), explicit smut (unprotected lovey dovey sex), hoseok pukes a lot (soz babe ily)

a.n- Ahhh I finally finished my Secret Santa fic for @thebtswritersclub! I’m so excited to reveal that I’m indeed @baepsaetan‘s secret santa 🎅🏼Day did you guess I was your ss? Did you like me subtly asking you questions about this during our sprints? hehehe! Happy new year, love! 💕

For people who can guess, this was inspired by the Doctor, River relationship and is loosely based on the Time Traveller’s Wife (eventhough I straight up have never seen the movie and literally only read the wiki page 🥴)

A huge thank you to Bella @hobisbeautifulass​ for beta reading for me! I’m sorry I made you cry at work!

As always feedback appreciated, a reblog and a like goes a far way. Send me an ask! 💌

-

The day his mother passed away was when Hoseok discovered his gift. 

Stranded by himself in a large suburban park in the middle of the night, there was an eeriness surrounding the dark expanse of road. There were no cars, no streetlights, and no solace to be found on the edge of the wooded trail he stood before. His heart was still racing, adrenaline coursing through his veins as he remembered seeing the blinding lights of the trailer in front of him just moments ago, his mother’s voice ricocheting through his head. He didn’t understand how he got here, and how the loud honks and screeches of tires had fallen to give way to this deafening silence.In the distance, he hears footsteps. The crackle of crushed leaves echoing in the air as he sees a man with dark hair, dressed in a large black sweater and a pair of blue ripped jeans, step forward. In the eight years he had lived thus far he had never been as terrified. The man lifted his arm as if to reach out towards him, and Hoseok closed his eyes tight, wishing he could run away.

Before he knew what happened, he was lying in his bed under his warm, colorful duvet. He rubbed his eyes, his heart still pounding and feeling an overwhelming urge to vomit. He thought it was a dream till his father entered with a tear-streaked face to let him know about his mother’s fatal accident.

That was the first time he time traveled, but it wouldn’t be the last. He didn’t know why he could do it. He didn’t know how he could control it. All he knew was that he was drawn to certain places, certain times. It was never when he wanted, like the first time when he wished he could go back to a few hours and not be greedy for ice cream so his mother would not have to drive him. Or the time he wished he could go back to tell his grandmother he loved her. Or the time in university where he wished he had never got caught cheating and lost his scholarship.

For being a time-traveler Hoseok’s life was full of regrets but the one thing he would never regret was meeting her.

-----------

For most people time is linear. There is the past, the present, and the future. But for Hoseok, time is a tangled mess, a convoluted web of events that he can only watch unfold. Never having the power to control where he ends up, Hoseok felt helpless, like his life was a punchline for the universe. All through his life, he would wind up at weird places at weird times. He would never know how long he would be there before being zapped back to whenever he came from.

Hoseok was twenty-five, he was single, he was a music producer, but most of all, he was tired. Lately, his time jumps were too frequent, going from happening once a year or so to once every few weeks. He would find himself in odd places at odd times, sometimes it was a quaint suburban street at dawn, other times a posh private school at midnight. All to stay there for seconds before zapping in his bed, as usual, his entire day lost, nausea bitting at his throat.

“Hoseok? Oh my god! It’s really you!” The new barista at his favorite coffee shop squealed when he made it to the front of the line, jarring him from his thoughts as he aimlessly scrolled through his Instagram, trying to decipher if he missed out on anything important. He looked at her, dressed cutely in a yellow sundress with the establishment's blue and gold apron on her waist. Her hair was loose around her face, her smile brilliant, as she looked at him with excitement. She was beautiful and it took Hoseok a few moments to stop himself from his shameless ogling.

“I’m sorry, do we know each other?” he asked, confused. He would have remembered if he ever saw her. She looked pretty unforgettable. Maybe she was one of Yoongi's friends, although something tells him Yoongi would find her sunshine persona offputting.

“Yeah! You’re my best friend!” She pointed at him, as his mouth dropped. Okay, so she was crazy. Great...

“Uh…” Hoseok didn't really know how to answer that, so he decided to follow his gut and just ignore her comment. “I’m sorry. Can I just order?”

“Vanilla latte, no whip, half sugar coming right up!” She beamed as she wrote on the cup, leaving him dumbfounded.

“How did you…?”

“Told you! You’re my best friend!” She pranced away to make his drink, as he stood there confused. When she returned, she handed him a drink and Hoseok could do nothing more than smile half-heartedly as he walked away. Did he have a stalker?

He decided not to visit that coffee shop again. Better not give this crazy person any more ideas.

------------

Hoseok stood in someone's home, someone's living room, dark other than the moonlight that filtered through the windows. It was a modest room, resembling one of those he would see on television. In the center of the room, there was a bright yellow rug flanked on three sides by a couch set facing a television hooked to the wall above a fireplace. It seemed cozy, somewhere he would have liked to live.

He had no idea where he was and he cursed his gift once again. This was getting ridiculous. This was the first time he had appeared inside someone's home. He shook his head as he looked at the clock placed on one of the small tables next to the big couch.

3 am. Great. He was trespassing in the middle of the night.

He decided to escape before the owners caught wind of him. As he made his way towards the door, a family portrait caught his eye. It hung right next to the front door, framed by a beautiful gold frame.

His mouth dropped. It was him. He looked a little older, the lines next to his eyes a little deeper as he sat smiling on a grassy field, his arms around a beautiful woman in a yellow sundress holding a small infant wrapped in green blankets.

He felt his heartbeat pick up. He knew her. It was the random barista girl. The one who insisted she knew him. What the fuck?

Before Hoseok could spiral any further he heard a noise behind him. Turning he saw her, dressed in flannel pajamas, walking down the stairs. She looked around her mid-thirties, nothing like the chipper twenty-something he'd seen last week.

He stood there blinking at her as she came closer, awe on her features that quickly morphed into sorrow. She touched his face gently as if in disbelief that he was there as her eyes glistened in the moonlight.

"Hobi?" She spoke, her voice was hoarse as a tear slipped down her cheek. Hoseok didn't know why but he felt his heart lurch at her tears. He had no idea who she was but he felt this innate pull towards her. He wanted to hold her, wipe her tears, and most fucked up of all, he wanted to kiss her.

"I- who are you?" He asked softly, his hand coming to hold hers as if he couldn't help himself, leaning slightly into her touch.

"We haven't met yet?" Her voice was wet with tears as she sniffled, moving closer to him. She hugged him, wrapping her arms around him tightly as if to feel if he was really there. He stood silently as she squeezed him close, and wrapped his arms around her when she started sobbing into his chest. He held her tight as she cried, his eyes brimming with sympathetic tears.

"I missed you so much Hoseok," she said as she looked up at him. He had never seen a more beautiful woman in his life. Before he could think, he was leaning down to capture her lips with his own, his heart in his throat. She tasted like strawberries and mint, and he felt his head turn into a haze. Before he could deepen the kiss, he felt the familiar feeling in the pit of his stomach. He pulled apart as he saw her fade slowly, trying his hardest to hold on to her as she did the same.

All too soon, the familiar sight of his bedroom materialized as he stood there alone, her last words ringing in his head.

"No! Please! It's too soon!"

He didn't know when he started crying, but soon he was kneeling on his floor sobbing for a girl he didn't even know the name of.

-----------

Hoseok didn't know when he fell asleep, but he woke up on the floor of his bedroom, his face puffy and back sore. Without a second thought, he rose from his position, grabbed his keys, and bolted out of his apartment. He had to find her.

It took him six days to meet her again. Six days of anxiety, amped up from the coffees he chugged as he visited the coffee shop at different hours. He couldn't even describe her properly, every time he went to the cashier to tell them how she looked they gave him an odd look. Maybe it was because by the third day he looked like a deranged stalker, describing her height and her build to anyone who worked there. He was surprised they hadn't banned him yet.

On the sixth day, she waltzed in and sat across from him, not a care in the world. Her smile was wide, a juxtaposition to the sad, older version of her he was fixated on. She wore a polka-dotted dress which hitched up a little as she crossed her legs. Hoseok was speechless as he almost choked on his coffee.

"You told me to meet you earlier but honestly, I just wanted to annoy you a little." She giggled, her hand coming up to cover her mouth, her eyes lit with mirth, and the stress of finding her hit him like a ton of bricks. Hoseok jumped out of his seat, his arms around her shaking as he tried to control his breathing. His mind was fuzzy, he had no reason to react this way, but he couldn't help himself. He didn't know her but he missed her. His heart was beating a mile a minute as he held her tighter.

"What took you so long?" He asked his voice a little hoarse from not speaking all day, his breath coming out in puffs against her neck. She hummed a little apology as her hand reached his hair, stroking his scalp in a way that made him instantly relax. He melted into her, her sweet floral scent a balm to his anxious nerves.

"Do you even know my name yet?" She spoke, her voice light and airy, as he finally let go of her. He cleared his throat in embarrassment, the tips of his ears turning as red as the beanie atop his head. He settled back in his chair awkwardly staring at her, fiddling with the string of his sweatpants that laid on his thigh. He looked up at her smiling face, as she put her hand on top of his. "It's Y/N. It's nice to finally meet you, Hoseok."

Her words were simple but their effect was anything but. Hoseok felt like everything in his world made sense, that all those times he had puked after a shitty trip down the stitch of time was worth it. Her hand was so soft, skin so perfectly smooth as her thumb stroked his hand, that Hoseok had a hard time finding words to express how he was feeling.

He looked at her shyly, not knowing where his nerves were coming from, as he smiled, meeting her warm eyes.

"It's nice to finally meet you too, Y/N."

----------

Hoseok sighed in annoyance as he walked down the path of the familiar suburban neighborhood. The sun shone brightly, and all he wanted to do was to be zapped out of here so he could end up in bed next to his girlfriend. It had been barely thirty seconds since he saw her, her soft skin molded against his as she slept next to him, her hair tickling his nose as he spooned her. He missed her already. This wasn't fair. Why did he have to walk around this stupid cul-de-sac when he could be wrapped in her warmth?

Ever since the coffee shop, things with her had progressed extremely fast. He couldn't help himself. He never felt as close to someone as instantly before. Granted, he knew they were going to get married and have a beautiful child together, but that didn't mean he knew how fast he was going to fall for her.

The day he first learned her name, he couldn't wipe the giddy smile off his face. She was different than any other woman he had met. She was outgoing and optimistic, and brave. Much braver than him. While he stuttered to ask her for her number, she leaned across the table grabbed his phone, unlocking it as if by magic, and added her phone number in. While he wrote and rewrote eighteen different texts, pacing in his living room, she beat him to it with a casual "Stop overthinking, dummy. It's only me!"

How could he stop overthinking? It was her. His dream girl gift-wrapped and sent to him by fate. He never thought his gift would be good for anything, but she was here and all his previous suffering finally made sense.

As he walked along the sidewalk, biding his time, he approached a bus stop. It was cute, and definitely not from his decade. A janky blue bus stopped, and out she walked, making Hoseok miss his step and almost trip. She was dressed in a school uniform, a crisp white shirt with a plaid skirt, a cute flower-shaped backpack on her shoulders, and her hands full of college pamphlets. Hoseok couldn't help the smile that overtook his features. He wanted to run up to her but he realized even if she was his girlfriend now, it was still a crime to approach a minor. His gift was so stupid.

He stood there, averting his stare and looking at his shoes instead, as she walked closer to him. He promised himself not to be a creep and try to talk to her but her voice makes him break his resolve.

"Ew. Can you not get a hint? Get away from me, you creep!" she yelled and Hoseok's head snapped up. He felt his face flare with rage as he watched a kid around her age try to put his arm around her as she tried to shove him off. The kid was relentless, throwing cheesy pickup lines her way as she continuously rejected him. He wanted to beat that little shit to a pulp.

Clearing his throat, he approached the two. "Dude, she said no. Get off her," he spoke through gritted teeth.

"What's it to you, old man?" The boy rolled his eyes, his hand still wrapped around her as she pleaded at Hoseok with her eyes. Hoseok wasn't old! He wasn't even thirty yet! He hated this kid.

"It's not nice to forego consent, kid," he sneered, schooling his face into the coldest expression he could muster. It seemed to have worked because one look at Hoseok's face and the future sex offender had his hand to himself before he walked off with a huff. Hoseok glared at him as he disappeared in the opposite direction. Good riddance.

"Thank you so much!" Her voice was higher than it was now, a little spring to it that only comes from innocence as she looked at him with round eyes. "You're like my own personal superhero!"

Hoseok felt awkward. He never wanted to talk to her here. Running his hands through his hair, he smiled at her, throwing an awkward "Any time!" as he rushed away. The feeling in his gut was back and he had never been happier to want to throw up. The afternoon sun faded as he stood in his own room, blinded and running to where he knew his trash can was.

As he vomited into the plastic can, he felt a hand rub soothingly down his back. She handed him a water bottle when he sat up next to the bin, his head aching.

"Welcome back, babe. When did you go this time?" She giggled at her own joke. God, Hoseok loved that laugh.

----------

Hoseok was nervous. He hadn't been this nervous in a really long time. Surrounded by all his friends dressed in custom tuxedos, he fidgeted with his bowtie, and scrutinizing his reflection in the mirror he fixed the lapels of the blood-red jacket he was wearing. Who convinced him this gaudy suit was perfect for the occasion? Oh yeah, his bride.

Jung Hoseok thought he'd accomplish a lot of things by the time he was thirty-one. He thought he would have signed to a major label as an in-house producer (he did), he thought he would be living in a beautifully decorated apartment downtown (he does), he thought he would have a cute little dog to welcome him home (Mickey is adorable, in case you were wondering), but he never thought he would be waiting at the end of the aisle for someone who would want to share their life with him.

Ever since she came into his life, Hoseok felt like it was filled with sunshine. She brightened every aspect of it. The first time he kissed her, really kissed her, it felt like happiness was resonating through his entire skeleton - like she was the one thing missing in his world. The first time he told her he loved her he almost threw up from the nerves knotting in his stomach.

He promised himself he wouldn't cry, but he couldn't help himself as she walked in. She had foregone the usual white gown, quoting something about the patriarchy, as she walked towards him in a dress, equally as red as his suit.

Her smile was wide and he was in awe of her beauty. He sniffled through his vows and she winked at him through hers, a simple gesture that made him chuckle and relaxed the emotions brewing in him. She could always do that with the simplest of things, be it a touch or a look. He kissed her with passion as their friends and family cheered. He hoped she didn't mind how much he was blubbering. He promised himself he wouldn't cry.

Their wedding was one of the best moments of his entire life. Dancing to cheesy music, cheek to cheek, the couple in red stood out amongst others in black. Hoseok was so in love that he didn't even mind when at the end of the night he felt the familiar buzz in his ears. He was slightly upset that he abandoned his new wife on his wedding night, but is it abandonment when the hotel lobby fades into what he knows now is his future home?

He saw her there, sitting on the couch, a frown on her face as she seemingly stared into space, dressed in a set of comfy pajamas and he couldn't control himself. Whispering her name so as not to startle her, he moved towards her when she smiled up at him. Sitting next to her on the couch, he pulled her to him with a grin. She giggled as she settles herself on his lap, running her hands over his jacket, before soothingly scratching his scalp. Hoseok couldn't help but lean into her touch, a goofy grin on his face. He was sickeningly in love.

"If it isn't my handsome new husband. I've been waiting for my wedding night for years." She joked as she pulled his face to hers, kissing him deeply. Hoseok's heart lurched in his chest as a little whine escaped him. She isn't surprised in the least to see him there, and why would she be? In the past five years, Hoseok has visited so many different versions of her. In a way, it's part of how he fell in love with her. She may only be thirty-one to him, but he'd seen her at every stage of her life.

As she deepened their kiss, his hands went around her waist squeezing her tight as she ground on him gently. He remembers the different versions of her as he feels his blood rush through his body, each touch sparking electricity under his skin. He remembered when he first laid eyes on her in that small cafe, his nerves on their first date, her tears when he proposed, the first time he had her under him after she invited him for a movie. But he also remembered her at six playing in the sandbox in the park, sixteen and humming to pop songs while she walked home, thirty-six as she cried in his arms, seventy when she looked frayed and weak but still beautiful. He had seen all of her life, moments that he was lucky enough to be brought to more often as he fell more in love with her. He had visited her hundreds of times, and he couldn't wait to do that for the rest of his life.

He kissed down her neck, leaving little bites that he soothed with his tongue as she undressed him, his jacket somewhere on the floor, his shirt mostly buttoned. She moaned as he cupped her breasts, a beautifully airy noise that set his heart on fire.

Soon the two were breathless and naked as he hovered above her on the couch. She arched into him as he entered her, her little whines encouraging him. He latched his lips on her hard nipples, nipping them how he knows she loves. She fit him so perfectly, always so perfect for him. His wife, his soulmate, his Y/N.

"I love you, wife," he whispered and placed his forehead on hers, his hips thrusting into her heat, as he relished the connection between them. He kissed her deep, almost overwhelmed by how perfectly their lips slotted together. He could kiss her forever.

"I love you, husband," she whispered into his mouth, and his pace increased, a hand coming down to rub at her clit. She writhed under him as he pushes her off the edge. Her legs shaking around him, her heels poking into his back, as he savored the way her walls pulled him in. He was panting when he came, filling her up and babbling a chant of her name.

He pecked her face about a thousand times as they both laid on the couch boneless and giggling. When he, inevitably, ends up back on his bedroom floor, he saw her smirking at his naked body on the floor, dressed in his t-shirt, her hair still wet from her shower. She squatted next to him.

"And where is your suit?" she chided, her lips lifting, even when she tries to pretend she's mad.

"We'll get it back in a few years." Hoseok shrugged as he pulled her into a kiss, missing her body next to him already.

----------

The bar Hoseok sat at is loud, too loud for the conversation Yoongi keeps trying to have with him, and that's precisely why he chose it. Next to their table is a bachelorette party, a gaggle of women dressed in feather boas and plastic tiaras, sloshing drinks on themselves as they excitedly laugh. It's an odd contrast to the way he's feeling, the atmosphere on his own table somber.

"So what? You're going to leave your wife at home and get wasted here? Is that what you do now, Hobi?" Yoongi scolded his friend but Hoseok was already too far gone, having had a few bottles of beers before even inviting Yoongi out. He knew he was an asshole, he didn't need Yoongi to remind him, but he needed to escape.

His once happy marriage was becoming tumultuous, and, no it wasn't because they didn't love each other anymore, but quite the opposite. The past two years had really shown him that even if they were fighting and yelling, they still loved each other. Even when they were mad they crawled into bed together at the end of the day and held each other, not being able to sleep otherwise.

Their marriage started off great. There were cuddles in the kitchen, dance parties in the living room, vacations in Rome, and a night where they both sat next to each other on the floor by the bathroom holding hands as they waited with a little blue stick. They made love on that floor when it showed two lines, but that wasn't a surprise - Hoseok had seen his child in that photo the first time he kissed her.

The surprise was when she woke him up in the middle of the night, thirteen weeks into the pregnancy clutching her stomach, tears running down her face. He had never felt as scared as he did at that moment, breaking all the traffic laws he could get away with to get her to the emergency room. He held her hand through the ultrasound, through the exam where she winced, and through the doctor solemnly telling them they had had a miscarriage. He didn't let himself cry in front of her, always wanting to be brave, but he sobbed when she slept, knowing that he had a child but gaining little solace from the fact as he mourned.

The second time the two lines showed up, they were careful. He waited on her hand and foot, working from home, ensuring she got the proper nutrients. The result was another trip to the emergency room and another night of tears holding each other. By the fourth time, they stopped being surprised, just two zombies driving calmly to the hospital, before returning home. She went to the bedroom, while Hoseok drank himself into a stupor, before asking Yoongi to meet him here.

Hoseok knew he had a child, but he felt hopeless, drowning in the undercurrent of hurt and apathy. He loved his wife, loved her more than anything in the world but he couldn't bear to look at her tonight, couldn't bear to convince her once again that he had seen their child. Maybe they adopted he thought bitterly as he switched from beer to shots.

He walked home in a drunken haze despite Yoongi's worried insistence that he take a cab. Somewhere during his walk, he had started crying, tears painting his face and sending shivers down his body as they cooled in the evening chill. He wished he could fix it for her, she was always so brave, always so supportive of his stupid ideas and moods. Every time they had a fight, she was the first to apologize, a smile on her face as she cracked a joke and tickled him till all his worries were forgotten.

Drowning in self-pity, he barely noticed the buzz in his ears as he entered his house. Stumbling into the living room he saw her sitting on the couch with a cup of tea. He stared at her as he realized he was in the future, her hair greying, and her skin wrinkled. He didn't know how to react, but the tears returned as he rushed to her falling on his knees as he held onto her legs.

"I'm so sorry, baby. I'm so sorry." He apologized again and again. He didn't care that this version of her wasn't the one that needed to hear him, but he felt like a terrible husband, a terrible partner, as he kissed her knees. She stroked his hair and shushed him with a soft smile.

"What happened, Hobi?" she asked, her voice gentle, and he felt all his walls come down as he told her things he was sure already knew. He felt exhausted, every cell in his body aching. He laid on the couch, head in her lap as she listened to him, consoling him with the wisdom of a life lived.

After he had fallen silent, sober, and unable to convey any more emotions, she spoke.

"Hobi. You have to be nicer to yourself. You were the perfect husband. The perfect soulmate." Her words were meant to be soothing, but as soon as he heard them he felt like ice was running through his veins. He sat up immediately, looking at her with wide eyes.

"Were?"

"I shouldn't have said anything..." She looked guilty, hurt crossing across her features, as she ran her hands up and down his arms.

"No! Y/N... I die?" His voice was small, almost timid towards the end of the sentence, as he held her hands to ground himself.

"I'm sorry, baby." Her eyes glistened as she cupped one of his cheeks, looking at him sadly.

"When?"

"I'm not telling you. You'll go insane." She was firm in her resolution, her tone taking cadence that she always used with him when declaring the end of a conversation. But Hoseok couldn't help himself. He was going to die, he was going to leave her. He felt like his heart was going to beat out of his chest.

"I'm already going insane! You have to tell me. What if I can stop it? We can be together. I don't want to leave you!" He pleaded, his eyes wide in panic.

"Hobi... You've never left me. You visit so often." She spoke with a small smile, seemingly reminiscing.

"Please! Please or else I'll go every day knowing it's my last with you. I - I can't do that. Please." He was almost whining at his point and he didn't care how desperate he sounded. He just wanted to know how much time he had with her. He was so stupid, how could he leave to get drunk while she waited for him at home. He didn't deserve the way this version of her was looking at him with such love.

"I barely even remember when it happened." He knew she was lying, could see it from the way her gaze averted his. Hesitantly she continued. "I'll... I'll just tell you. It's the day after you see yourself for the first time."

"See myself?" He repeated, his brain running through his memories. He would have remembered if he saw himself. It would be hard to forget, but he came up empty, tears of frustration lining his eyes as he ran his hand through his hair.

"That's all you told me. That you saw yourself and you felt bad for not being able to give yourself advice."

"I won't ever leave you. I promise. I'll come back. As much as I can." He kissed her at that, repeatedly, her lips soft under his. She knew he couldn't control his ability, but she smiled at him anyway, agreeing with his promise, telling him she'll see him soon, even if she had no idea if that was true.

When he was transported back to his room, he couldn't help himself from heaving on the floor, the contents of his stomach painting the hardwood. As always, she rushed to him, wiping his tears and walking him to the bathroom. She helped him change, before cleaning up after him, despite his protests, as she glared at him every time he tried to sit up from the bed.

When she returned from putting the cleaning supplies away, she shut the door to their bedroom, and there, on the hook behind it, hung his wedding suit, the crimson a bright splash of color amongst the white. She followed his eyes, giggling a little.

"You already made up for being an ass, don't worry," she joked, fingers poking at his side to tickle him gently.

Hoseok had missed her laugh. Missed it so much. He cut her off before she could say anything else, whispering apologies against her lips. He was never going to leave her.

---------

He was in a park, the trees throwing looming shadows under the moonlight as he walked around. He recognized this park, it was the one near her childhood home. She had taken him there during their first Christmas together, and he still remembered the silly grin on her face as she showed him the sandbox where she used to spend all her days as a kid, making sandcastles. He smiled at the memory. It was the first time in a while that his time travels hadn't taken him straight to her and he missed not being able to see which part of her life he was visiting.

He walked about reminiscing about his day. It was his daughter's third birthday and he felt a little bad leaving his wife to clean up the mess. He couldn't believe Soojin was three already. He pulled out his phone, scrolling through photographs as he waltzed down memory lane. He smiled softly at the photo from the day she was born. She was so tiny then, her little, pink heart-shaped lips in a pout as she stretched, her eyes almost disappearing beneath her chubby cheeks.

He kept his eyes glued to his phone, looking at photo after photo. There was one of her covered in mushed peas and he remembered how long it took him to get the mess out of the living room rug. There was one of her dressed as spiderman who she had declared her favorite recently after watching the cartoon on Netflix, doing the signature web-shooting pose. There was one of holding on to her mom as she walked for the first time. Hoseok's heart felt full, and he couldn't wait to get back home.

He decided to keep up with the tradition of seeing his wife every time he skipped through time and started walking towards her house, deciding to take the shortcut she had shown him. Humming a little, he placed his hands in his pockets as he strolled along, thinking about the delicious cake he had custom ordered for the party. He could probably eat the whole thing. Would it taste as good after it's been in the fridge?

His musings came to a quick stop however as he looked into the distance, just at the exit of the wooded path. There, dressed in a yellow sweatshirt with a giant dog on the front and jeans that didn't quite reach the ankles, was an eight-year-old boy. He walked closer and his heart stopped as he saw himself for the first time. He was crying, sniffling in the air, and as Hoseok approached his younger self, he vanished into the air.

He felt the air leave his lungs as he stumbled in his steps, falling on to the ground.

"That's all you told me. That you saw yourself and you felt bad for not being able to give yourself advice."

No. It's too soon. He couldn't collect his thoughts as they rushed through his head barely leaving a trace. When he had that conversation four years ago he thought he had more time. Soojin was just three years old. He thought he would have years, that he would see graduations and intimidate boyfriends, and walk her down the aisle. It's too soon.

He could feel himself hyperventilating, his breaths short and his ears echoing with his heartbeat, as he tried to collect himself. He looked at his hands shaking in his lap and his eyes focused on his outfit. How could he have forgotten what the man in his memory was wearing? He put on these ripped jeans this morning, the same jeans that haunted him for the first sixteen years of his life. How could he have not realized that he was the creepy old man he had nightmares about as a kid?

Trying to control his breathing, he started to formulate a plan. He didn't want Y/N to know, he didn't want her to go through the emotions he was going through right now, because she would go through so much worse when he was gone. He sat in the park and let himself cry, hoping that he wouldn't have to leave soon because leaving meant saying goodbye and he was not ready yet. It's too soon.

---------

Hoseok awoke with a sinking feeling in his heart and a lump in his throat. It was the day he had been dreading since before he learned her name. He hated that he didn't have enough time. Enough time to hold her, enough time to watch his daughter grow up, enough time to build a bigger family.

He found the other side of the bed empty and standing up with a groan, he moved to the room next door. He stroked his daughter's cheek a tear spilling out his eye that he quickly wiped. Bending down, he kissed her little cheek, sniffing her calming scent.

"Daddy loves you, baby. Daddy will always love you. Please be good for your mommy okay?"

She only moved a little at his words, sighing before continuing to snooze. Hoseok ran his hands over his face, his heartbeat accelerating. He looked at the mirror in the corner and practiced his smile a few times. He had to be brave. He had to be brave for her, for both of them.

He walked into the kitchen, schooling his expression into one of bliss, as he saw her standing in her underwear and one of his t-shirts, and his heart felt hollow. He loved her so much. He hated that he had to leave this way, but that was his fate from the beginning, wasn't it? Their whole relationship, everything, started from and led to this moment. Padding over to her, he put his arms around her squeezing her tight, his chest molding perfectly to her back as it always did.

She giggled as she leaned into him, softly caressing his arms and making him nuzzle further into her neck. He took in her delicate scent and tried to control his breathing. He could not break.

"Someone's cuddly this morning," she commented, turning around with a grin.

"I just love you, that's all."

She cooed as he brought his lips to hers. What he intended to be a gently good morning kiss, turned into so much more as he lost control of his emotions. He kissed her like he would forget her taste, but it wasn't him who would be dwelling on this moment for years to come.

When the two broke apart, he cupped her cheek as he felt the familiar buzz in his ears.

"You know I love you more than anything in the world right?" He whispered before he started to see his kitchen fade away.

Her voice echoed as he was teleported into a dark room, momentarily blinded.

"Aww, I love you too, my Hobi!"

He fumbled around a little and then he heard it - a loud gunshot, shattering his eardrums. The sound hurt more than the sudden sharp pain in his chest, he thought, as he gasped for air, stumbling to the ground. The lights in the room turned on then and he saw the younger version of his father in law, demanding something, his voice inaudible.

She never told him details about this moment, but kind of fitting that it was in the hands of her father. He never did like Hoseok much anyway. His breaths felt shallow as he chuckled at the irony. Or was it justice? Karma? He didn't know. Nevermind, his chest hurt far more than his eardrums. Fuck, being shot is a bitch.

He felt the nauseous pull for the last time as he dropped into his bedroom. The last thing he saw was his wife  rushing over to him. Oh, she was so beautiful, he was so lucky she chose him.

For being a time-traveler Hoseok’s life was full of regrets but the one thing he would never regret was meeting her, even if that was the reason he lost her.

—

I hope you liked this super sad angst piece, for more fics of mine check out my masterlist

[donutloverxo]

So sorry

Summary- You max out Steve's credit card. Will you be able to make upto him?

Warnings- smut, daddy kink, deep throating, spanking

Pairing- Steve Rogers x brat!reader

Word count- 2k

Masterlist

You took a deep breathe, sipping from your champagne flute, scrunching your nose at the bitter taste of it. Why people liked alcohol you’ll never understand. In your opinion if something isn’t sweet then it doesn’t taste good.

You smiled stealing glances at the huge diamond chandelier above you. You tried your best to conceal your amazement, you didn’t want to seem as if you didn’t belong there. Until now you had only seen other people own designer bags and brands. You were from a simple middle class family and still a student who never really had any money of her own.

You figured you’ll never own a chanel bag or a cartier love bracelet, they were ridiculously overpriced anyway and totally not worth it, but you still felt drawn to them. They were always out of reach. Until Steve that is.

When you started dating him you never expected to have him buy you such amazing presents. He seemed like a simple minimalistic guy. But judging from your big fat tiffanys engagement ring, and many other things he has bought for you, being an avenger apparently paid well.

He gave you his credit card for your expenses and ‘some fun' like three months into your relationship. You never really used it. You didn’t want to take advantage of him, he already did so much for you and took such good care of you. But now that you were practically married, his money was your money. So maybe you can buy that Hermes bag which costs more than your rent? He asked you to ‘don’t go too crazy with it’ Would four thousand dollars really be that crazy?

“Look at the material on this. It’s made of lamb skin” Stacey gushed feeling the baby pink bag on her fingers.

She was the root cause of your crazy shopping spree. She practically forced you to spend so much money, you’re not even sure how much damage you’ve done in total but you know it’s pretty bad. She was a victorias secret model who had legs that went on for days and brown skin as clear as crystal. She was also Tony's new flame, unlike you she didn’t really have to worry about the bill.

“It goes so well with your hair!” she raved clapping her hands and looking at you as if you’re the most adorable thing she’s ever seen.

“I can’t” You whined resisting the urge to pout, that only works on Steve. “I’ve already spent so much. Maybe next month” You tried to reason more with yourself than her.

“Oh girl” She tsked you moving closer to you to whisper “I’m sure you can find some way to make up to Steve. He’s too whipped for you to care anyway”

You grinned at that. He was a lovestruck fool. It was so warming to know that you inspired that kind of passion in him. “how would I take care of him?” You frowned. You don’t really make any money. You will after you get a job but it still wouldn’t be nearly as much as Steve. You looked at her deadpanned face and then it dawned on you “oh” you breathed.

“Yeah” She nodded “now put your money where your mouth is. Men are easy to control, you’ll learn soon enough” She winked as you handed over Steve’s credit card to the cashier. You were happy to have such a beautiful bag, but you couldn’t ignore that nervous feeling in the pit of your stomach. Were you nervous or excited? You couldn’t decide.

You hurriedly punched in the code for yours and Steve’s suite in the Avengers tower, your birth year, opening and closing the door with your foot, your hands were too occupied carrying the loads of bags. You planned to hide your clothes and bags but you were too late.

There he was, the love of your life, the apple of your eye, your future husband, sitting on the couch, his left leg crossed over the right one. He looked at you as you gave him a nervous smile, pathetically trying to hide the bags under the dining table.

You slipped over to him kneeling to his side on the couch, it was time to butter him up “I missed you so much Stevie” You squealed hugging his bicep and nuzzling your nose into his cheek. He opened his mouth to say something, but you captured his lips in a bruising kiss. You slipped your tongue into his mouth, massaging his tongue with yours. You moaned into his mouth, knowing how much he liked it when you made those sinful amazing noises. You straddled his lap pressing your titts onto his chest chest as you trailed kisses down his jaw and neck. He pulled you closer to him, if that was even possible, by your waist.

“Wait” He said but didn’t stop you from sucking on his earlobe. He sternly said your name which made you freeze. You could be cute with Steve all you like but when the captain comes out, you know you’re in trouble.

You pulled away looking into his bright blue eyes and fluttering your new eyelash extensions. “Looks like you had fun” He said looking at your bags which were somewhat visible from the couch.

You grabbed his chin to make him look at you, oh how much you wanted to kiss that frown away but you can’t be too obvious. “I did daddy” you rolled your hips against his, pleased with the way his breathe hitched.

He held onto your hips to stop your ministrations “I got a call from the bank. You maxed out my credit card princess”

You whined wanting to stomp your foot but you can’t, not from this angle “But you said I could buy whatever I want”

“I also told you to be responsible with it. Just because we have money doesn’t mean we should be so careless with it” He reasoned.

You had to really fight the urge to roll your eyes. He was probably right but you weren’t going to admit that, not right away anyway. Instead you rolled your hips one more time, ignoring the way he called your name again.

You smirked when you felt his erection poking your thigh. You remembered the first time you felt it, after a heavy make out session, you hadn’t seen it but were so ridiculously afraid to fit him inside you.

You knelt before him as he stared at you, stalking your every move. You spread his knees making room for yourself between them and went to work on unzipping him.

“You can’t just get on your knees whenever you want to get your way” He sighed putting his hand over yours.

“Do you want to see my new bra?” You wondered. You unzipped your dress pushing the straps down to reveal your pale blue satin push up bra with a little bow in the middle, as if you were a present to be unwrapped. You could see him swallow, his fists clenching so hard, his knuckles turned white

You smirked at the small victory taking him out of his briefs and kissing the tip “Hello there little soilder. Did you miss me?” you pressed an open mouth kiss to his tip.

He bucked his hips up hissing at you “You played with him just last night” He said and cringed at his own words. You laughed covering your mouth with your hand. You had successfully infected him with your ridiculousness.

“Ooh” You cooed lapping up his precome before swallowing him whole, fitting whatever you could in your mouth. Over your relationship you had gotten better at taking him in your mouth but you still couldn’t fit all of him. He never really let you spend too much time on your knees anyway.

He bunched your hair up into a ponytail, probably to get a better look at your face. “No” You said pulling him out of your mouth, pushing his hand away from your hair “I just got it blow dried” you complained, his cum and your lipgloss smeared all over your lips and his cock.

“You’re such a brat” He grumbled “off with this” he bent over to unhook your bra slipping it off and exposing your titts to him. You should’ve known, modern lingerie didn’t really interest Steve, he liked seeing you in simple comfortable nightgowns. He sucked one into his mouth as you tried to hold in a moan. You gasped as he bit it, releasing it with a pop as he sat back against the couch, watching you with glossy lust-filled eyes.

You sucked his ball pulling it with your lip as he massaged your titt. You pumped him with your hand as more of his come came out of his tip. You couldn’t resist, you had to get a taste so you placed him back in your mouth.

You could feel how close he was by the way his cock twitched in your mouth. Usually, you’d swallow him whole or make him come on your face or titts. It depends on his or your mood. But today you had a purpose. You pulled him out of your mouth, looking at him with your best puppy dog eyes “My jaw hurts, I need a break” You made of show of massaging your jaw. It did somewhat hurt but not enough to stop.

He made a sound that was somewhere between a moan and a cry. You looked at his angry red tip, looking as if it was about to burst. “It must be painful?” You asked stroking his length with your hand. He groaned desperately nodding his head “It is doll. Please”

“Well I can’t keep my daddy waiting” With that he was back in your mouth so deep that your nose almost touched his blonde curls. You swallowed around him as your tongue licked stripes up his slit. “Jesus Christ” He sweared holding onto your neck. Even if he was upset with you he wouldn’t mess with your hair. Not when it looked so pretty.

Abruptly he pushed your mouth off him. You looked at his red flushed face and neck as he rigorously stroked himself, spurts of his come landing on your titts. He groaned and moaned and cursed, holding onto your shoulder.

Finally he sat back against the cushions looking into your eyes as you gathered some of his cummies on your fingers before sucking on them. “So yummy” You moaned.

“What am I gonna do with you” He shook his head.

You smirked feeling as if you had won. You pulled a few tissue papers out of the box from the coffee table cleaning him up and pressing a kiss to his cock before tucking it back in his pants. “Just love me and spoil me. You wanna see what I bought? I could put on a show for your” You perked up at the opportunity of trying on your dresses for him. You knew you couldn’t get past the second dress, with the type of clothing you had bought, you were bound to get your pussy fucked raw at the end of it.

He hummed “Sure – but before that” Before you knew it he hauled you up, manhandling you and placing you over his knees. “you have to be punished” He stroked your ass over your panties warming you up “How much do you think you deserve? How about fifteen for every grand you spent” He delivered a slap over your panties before pulling them down.

It would be a long night and you would love every second of it.

Tags- @patzammit @onetwo3000 @peaceinourtime82 @stargazingfangirl18 @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @sweater-daddiesdumbdork @navybrat817 @what-just-happened-bro @thehumanistsdiary @cheeseburgersstuff

Super cute pink divided by @whimsicalrogers

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Come down when you’re ready.

Jeankasa | Pretty PG, they did the deed, but nothing explicit

It’s on Ao3! https://archiveofourown.org/works/28873656

“When this war is over, I would like to take you out.” Jean says. He thinks maybe he’s tired. That’s the reason he’s being so bold. He’s tired and he simply can’t care enough to dam the thoughts rushing behind his eyes.

“Where?” She replies, teetering on the edge of wakefulness and sleep. She chuckles, drawing self-conscious laughter from Jean. It’s silly. He’s spent so much time in his childhood thinking about bubblegum kisses and girls in babydoll dresses. They would hold hands, take a walk in the park, have ice cream, the works. But when it comes to her and the time he’s spent dancing with death, he’s slightly embarrassed at how frivolous they now sound.

But Jean remembers going to town for supplies in the Summer and watching the crowds near the riverbanks. And he remembers Mikasa watching the families on their picnic mats, something he reads as longing crossing her face. “A picnic?” He muses, “we could take a picnic basket to the markets in the morning, gather some food, head to the river...” He trails off, suddenly hyper aware of how he must sound. Like a fool throwing rocks at shut windows, serenading the winds. He bites the inside of his cheeks.

“What would you like to do?” Jean asks after a moment of silence.

Mikasa hums, “I haven’t really... Thought about it...” and she leaves it as that. Jean doesn’t push further, because her shoulders are tense, like she’ll scurry for cover if he does. They’ve been at this so long- this practiced dance, ginger steps balanced on tip toes- one wrong move and the lights come on.

Thankfully, she shifts a little closer to him, head on his chest, listening to the thrum of a heart through flushed skin- a heart that beats for her. Past the guilt, she allows herself to relax into the warmth.

Even though he knows her in ways only a lover would, even though he’s seen the curves and lines of her body, has trailed his palms over every scar, the proximity never fails to make his breath catch in his throat. There’s a squeezing in his chest and it’s becoming increasingly hard to tell if it’s love or the pain of knowing she’ll never love him back.

“I’m sorry...” she says, as if she hears the war in his mind. Her fingers pad over imaginary lines on his chest.

“It’s alright.” He replies without missing a beat. They’ve been through this before. Talked about it one too many times because she doesn’t want to hurt him or promise him more than she can afford. 

You know I can’t give you what you want, Jean... she had said when he had first undressed her. The reality of the situation settles in the pit of his stomach like sediment. But he had dreamt of this moment for years, since they were children, a little too curious for their own good. I know, he had said. I know, once more for his benefit.

But night after night, Jean asks if he can kiss her, and every time the answer is a breathless-

Yes.

So he night after night he peels back her skin like a lover, with shaking hands, painfully gentle. He hopes that he can take her mind off everything, off the hot sear of blood on skin, off the orders to kill and destroy and take, and off the boy with the green eyes. The rest of the world be damned. He kisses her until they’re both breathless and lightheaded because the feeling that blossoms in his chest is exquisite. The feeling of being impossibly close to her is exquisite. They are almost always gentle. After years of fighting, there’s little pleasure in brute force.

Mikasa you know how I feel about you. Jean says when they’re both slick with sweat, their hearts steadying. It’s for his own benefit. He doesn’t need to hear it back. He already knows the answer. This proclamation of love is one of the last things he owns on this mortal coil. He thinks about getting a cigarette, but he wonders what she would think about his new habit, if she would mind. So he doesn’t. He leaves the cigarettes to stolen moments by the trees, sometimes joined by Connie, sometimes by a sheepish Armin, sometimes by Hanji who never seems to have a stash of her own.

I know... And I’m sorry... she says. And Jean hates how she always feels the need to apologise. He wasn’t looking for an apology.

Nothing to be sorry about, he smiles, I just wanted you to know. He tells her again that he expects nothing in return. But a part of him feels sorry for himself. He thinks about the girls back when life had been simpler. Wonders about a future with them. But all he can picture is her raven hair, her porcelain skin, the blush on her cheeks, her brows set with the determination of a soldier.

In another life maybe... she says.

And Jean had understood what she had meant. He thinks about it now as he holds her flush against his chest, fingers stroking her arm absentmindedly.

Mikasa thinks she’s cursed. She has to be. Everyone she’s ever loved or cared about in her cursed life ends up getting hurt. The only boy she’s ever loved has pushed her away more times than she can count. Everything is clear now in the light. He’s never wanted her- will never want her. And soon they will have to kill him.

And yet Jean is here. He’s drifting off to sleep, she can tell. He’s breathing in a way that can only mean he’s only partially conscious. Mikasa allows herself to smile at the sight. And a part of her wonders why he stays, why he allows himself to hurt over and over. This life has given her nothing, and yet, there is beauty in the way Jean chuckles when she trips while pulling her trousers on in the morning, and he’s looking at her with such endearment that she almost thinks she could be the luckiest girl on earth. She would return a smile then, sheepish, hoping her inexperience with anything tender isn’t showing.

Jean on the other hand, has always been a natural. He tells her who she is when they’re making love, whispered sweetly in her ear-

you’re beautiful, Mikasa, you’re so beautiful.

He pulls her close even in sleep, he gives her his last piece of meat, he has saved her more times than she remembers.

Mikasa reaches tentative fingers to his face, cupping his cheek where stubble has grown, he’s a man now, features as handsome as ever. And she’s a woman. Her body taut from years of fighting, her breasts tight against her chest, and the softness around her hips fading. Sometimes she wonders what Jean sees in her still.

“You’re so good to me...” she whispers, half hoping he wouldn’t hear. But he does-

“My mother taught me well...” he winks, a try at suavity, but his eyes had widened from her hand on his cheek, and the tips of his ears have gone red. “You deserve it...” he says, quieter, so quiet that Mikasa almost misses it.

Your maman would hate me... Mikasa thinks. The cursed girl with the cursed life, everything withers under her touch. “She sounds lovely...” Mikasa says instead.

“She would love you.” Jean shrugs.

“Really?” Mikasa says, completely absorbed in how gentle his gaze is, her hand slips from his cheek to the back of his neck where she plays with the soft fuzz of hair.

He presses a chaste kiss on her forehead. “What’s there not to love?”

She laughs. Mikasa you’re so loved... her mother had said to her once when she had been a child, wide-eyed and innocent. Perhaps she is the luckiest girl on earth, she thinks, surprising herself with her sudden defiance.

“My mother...” Mikasa starts, hesitant. She never talks about her parents, not to anyone. So this is unfamiliar territory. “She would love you too...” Because she remembers the things her mother had told her about gentle boys, the ones who are patient, who will look at her like she’s treasure.

And Jean looks at her now, like she’s the best thing in the world- something amazing to behold, even though her hair is now cropped short and she has traded in her softness for callouses from gripping her blades- like treasure.

“Your dad... Would he chase me with a shotgun?” Jean attempts at humour and it works because she’s giggling. What a beautiful sound, bright like a bell.

“He’s a very good shot...” she teases, “but no... He’ll offer you some of the jerky he makes... I think... And if you tell him they’re good, you’re essentially family.”

“Jerky huh... Got it...” Jean says and Mikasa thinks this is nice. It’s nice to laugh and talk about the past, to talk about what ifs. It’s especially nice talking with Jean. He doesn’t push her away, doesn’t expect more of her than she can give. In fact, he doesn’t expect anything of her at all. It’s nice inhabiting this space with him, where a kiss on the lips can mean nothing or everything all at once.

So Mikasa pulls him down towards her and presses her lips against his. He deepens the kiss, brushing his tongue against hers exactly the way she likes. And she pulls on his bottom lip the way she knows would drive him crazy. When they pull apart to breathe she can’t help but chuckle at the dazed expression on his face. Jean scoffs, but there’s no harshness behind the sound, he grins, ever so charming, and reaches to tuck her hair behind her ear.

Mikasa thinks maybe she’s tired. That’s the reason she’s being so bold. She’s tired and she simply can’t care enough to dam the thoughts rushing behind her eyes. So she starts with-

“A picnic sounds nice...”

<part of a series>