#hmm. maybe just one afternoon this week. i will set aside for this

[merrybandofmurderers]

kinda wanna boot up dai just to walk around and complete meaningless side quests. dont even care about talking to companions, just wanna immerse myself in pretty graphics and relish the ability to complete tasks

[sameheart-sameblood]

Live While We’re Alive

(gif by @rex-is-best)

pairing: commander wolffe x f!reader

summary: you thought being a newly recruited civilian doctor to the GAR was hard enough until you developed a hopeless crush on Commander Wolffe

words: 2.8 k

warnings: mature, some suggestive talk, mutual pining, medical exams, co-workers to lovers, a doctor having inappropriate thoughts about their patient 

a/n: I started writing this awhile ago and then lost all creative motivation but I've been in a Wolffe mood the past few days and sad we didn't get to see him in The Bad Batch so here we are. I'd like to apologize to my doctor dad and all medical professionals everywhere lol. Also, I had intended for this to end in smut but then got lost in feelings so there mayyyy be a chapter 2. We'll see ;)

read on ao3!

You want to fuck him. It’s been decided. This realization couldn’t have come at a worse time, though. You’re surrounded by Jedi and Clone Officers in a very important meeting detailing your next mission. But you only have eyes for one of the men and he’s currently standing at the head of the room giving a briefing to the holo of Master Yoda. It’s a testament to Commander Wolffe’s presence that you barely notice the little green Jedi Master he’s conversing with. Well, his presence and his extreme handsomeness.

When you’d first met him, you’d been truly intimidated. The other women you worked with nodded in understanding, whispering they had been thrown off by his cybernetic eye and prominent scar. But that wasn’t it. You’d noticed those things, but that wasn’t what made you uneasy.

It was the fact that he took one look at you and seemed to see right into your soul. You couldn’t explain it but you felt like with just a glance, he could tell your deepest insecurities. And stars, did you have a lot of those.

You had worked your way up through the medical field and had started your residency at the biggest hospital in Coruscant. After your training ended, you had secured a permanent job there. It had been difficult, to say the least. Though you knew you were qualified, even more so than most of your male co-workers, you still doubted yourself often.

Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi had come to visit you one nondescript Thursday afternoon, telling you of the need for doctors in the GAR. He said you came most highly recommended when he was searching for recruits but still, you thought a mistake had been made and that someone soon would realize and send you back to your normal life. It was a recurring nightmare you’d developed in the past few weeks that shook you from your sleep.

You had agreed to join the GAR, sympathetic to the cause and wanting to do your part. The next few weeks had consisted of you getting your bearings and meeting the rest of the staff at the base . Kix, the clone medic in charge, had helped you learn the ropes and had introduced you to all his brothers. At first, you had been overwhelmed by the sea of identical faces. As the weeks had gone on, you’d learned everyone’s names and they’d made you feel welcome, like one of their own.

The Commander and you had crossed paths several times. He was polite but distant. Not like you blamed him. He had more important things to do than exchange drawn out pleasantries. With each run-in, though, he seemed to be making more of an effort to be personable. Unfortunately, each conversation left you looking more and more like an idiot. Or a di’kut. The boys had been teaching you some Mando’a.

You were a medical professional, a well-respected doctor and yet Wolffe made you feel unsure of yourself. It had been so long since you’d had a crush that you didn’t realize this was what the beginning of one felt like.

*******

As you sit around the war room table, you feel even more like a school girl. Instead of paying attention to whatever Master Yoda is saying, you’re transfixed by Wolffe’s face. The hazy blue light from the holo reflects off his features, making him look ethereal. His scar looks even more prominent and you blush, remembering how often you’ve wondered what it would feel like to let your fingers trace it.   And his lips. They’re moving, responding to whatever the Jedi has said. They’re mesmerizing and now you’re thinking of what it would be like to kiss him. Or even better yet, to have those lips pressed against the plushier parts of your body.

You continue to stare until you realize his face has turned to you. It probably only takes you a second to come back to reality but it feels like an eternity. Somehow you’re able to respond to the question.

“Yes, Commander. All medical personnel are prepared for an 0800 liftoff. Kix will take his team with the 501st and I’ll have my staff along with the 104th. We’ll reconnoiter once we’ve landed on Hisseen.” The rest of the table nods, moving the conversation along. Wolffe stares at you for a moment, a hint of a smirk on his lips. You avert your gaze, finding the table a much safer object of your attention.

The discussion wraps up and Wolffe stands at attention, puffing his chest out, before Master Yoda disappears. Once again, your eyes are drawn to him. You’re not sure how but he makes something so mundane look indescribably attractive. Wolffe’s head turns in your direction but you’ve already bolted from your seat, hoping to cool down in the hallway.

Kix pushes through the crowd to get to you. “Hey, Doc. How’d the meeting go?” You shrug. “Nothing new to report. Just making sure we’re all set for our campaign.” He’s shifting back and forth, a sort of glazed look in his eyes. You realize he’s not paying particularly close attention. It’s the look of someone asking you something just so they can request a favor in return.

“Hmm oh yeah, that’s nice. Say, Doc, do you think you could cover for me for a few hours? I have some urgent business to attend to.”

“Since when is playing Sabacc with Fives and the boys urgent?”

“Since I remembered how terrible they are at it. I can make a real killing playing against them.”

You laugh. It’s true. You’ve come to love those men but a lot of them are really horrible at the game. You’ll need to give them a remedial course if you have any downtime on Hisseen. “Of course. What do you need me to do?” He rewards you with a huge grin. “Nothing hard! A few higher ups coming in for their physicals. Just the usual. Make sure they’re in tip top shape to get shot at by some tinnies.”

He gives you the list. It’s only a handful of men but the last one on it makes your blood go cold. “Commander Wolffe needs a physical?” Kix is oblivious to your inner turmoil. “Oh yeah, but he knows the drill. Honestly everyone can do it themselves at this point. We’re basically there to oversee it as a formality.”

You swallow down your apprehension and nod. “Sounds easy enough. Go have fun. And take it easy on them, will ya? Let them keep a little of their dignity intact” Kix just grins and shoots you a wave as he runs off.

*******

Your first few appointments go just fine. The officers are professionals and Kix was right, they could do these routine physicals with their eyes closed. You give them all your seal of approval and settle in to do your paperwork before your last, most anticipated patient arrives. The forms in front of you hold no interest and you find yourself checking the chrono every few seconds.

It’s not easy but you manage to finish your work. You set it aside and take steadying breath. Five more minutes and he’ll be here. You scold yourself. The Commander has never been anything but professional. You’re the one thinking these very unprofessional thoughts.

And you’re a doctor, for kriff’s sake. Your patients should be able to come to you without worrying you may be fantasizing about what they look like naked. But these are uncharted waters. It’s your first time having to deal with a patient you’re this attracted to. They really should take your medical license away.

Just as you’re thinking of packing it all up and handing in your resignation to the Jedi Council, a knock at the door snaps you to attention. Well, here goes nothing. You scold yourself once again for checking your reflection in the mirror before answering the door.

You had tried to adopt a passive, professional look to your face before greeting Wolffe but it must not have worked. “Everything alright, Doc? I’m not early, am I?” You shake your head.“Not at all. Punctual as always, Commander.” You beckon for him to come in and take a seat. You close the door, then sit across from him at your desk.

Your datapad hums to life and you busy yourself opening the appropriate forms you need to fill out. The weight of his eyes is heavy on you and your cheeks heat up in spite of yourself. You push on through as best you can.

“Well, Commander, how are you feeling today?” There’s that ghost of a smirk again but it vanishes so quickly you're not sure if you imagined it. “I feel like a million credits.” You giggle despite it not even being that funny. You’ve got it bad. “Glad to hear it. This should be quick then.” You gather your equipment and get to work.

First, you take his weight. Then, you listen to his heart. You press the stethoscope to his sternum, thankful you can do this over his blacks. He observes you the whole time. “And what about you? How are you today, Doc?” You risk a glance and meet his eyes. That was a mistake.

“Me? Oh-um just fine. Maybe not like a million credits but a few hundred at least.” You trail off dumbly but he humors you with a chuckle. You’re not sure you’ve ever heard that sound from him before. It’s like music to your ears. “Anything I can do to help? You do look a little flushed. Are you sure you don’t have a fever?” You avert your eyes again.

“No. I’m alright. It’s just, uh, hot in these uniforms. The coarseweave doesn’t breathe.”

“You sure? Maybe I should be the one giving you a check-up.”

You realize he’s toying with you now.

“That won’t be necessary, Commander.”

You move on to check his lungs. “Breathe in for me.” You move the stethoscope to his chest, then move it around a few different spots on his back. “You can call me, Wolffe. If you’d like.” He breathes in every time, not even needing prompting, ever the dutiful soldier, even when he’s teasing you.

“I would like that. Thank you, Wolffe.”

Next, you measure his blood pressure. You’re shocked that it’s so low. He sees the look of surprise on your face. “Something wrong?”

“Not at all. The opposite, in fact. Your pressures are great. I just thought with your lifestyle they might, understandably, be a bit higher.”

“What kind of lifestyle do you think I have?”

You’re backtracking as quickly as you can. “I just meant, your life as a soldier, it must be extremely stressful.”

There’s that smirk again. “It is. But you don’t get to be a Commander by not being able to handle the pressure.”

“Of course. But even so, if you’d like some stress relief techniques I can suggest some.” He hums as if really thinking it over. Thankfully there’s only one part of your exam left. Which is good because you’re not sure how much resolve you have remaining.

“Everything looks great. I’ll just do a head and neck exam and then I can send you on your way.”

You need to touch him for this part but you stop yourself, hands hovering but not quite meeting their destination. You feel like once you touch him, really feel his skin under your fingers, there may be no going back.

Wolffe sees your hesitation, then slowly reaches out to take your hands. You watch with wide eyes as he guides them to his neck. He looks up at you innocently enough but you can tell he’s laughing internally. You try to reign in control of the situation.

“Sorry, I just got distracted.” The Commander studies you but this time it’s in earnest. “Are you nervous? This’ll be your first time in an active war zone, right?” You had been anxious but not about that. But now that he mentions it, yeah, you honestly don’t know what you’ve gotten yourself into.

“Yes, I’m not sure what to expect. I guess you could say I’m a little scared.” Wolffe gently holds your chin, directing you to look back at him. “I won’t lie. It’ll be overwhelming and frightening. Battles can seem never-ending. But I promise I won’t let anything happen to you.”

You’re staring into each other’s eyes and you don’t want to stop. But then he’s clearing his throat and gently removing his hand from your skin. You realize you’ve been resting your own hands on his shoulders this whole time. “Thank you, Wolffe. I do feel much better knowing you’ll be there.” You offer him a smile, hoping it conveys just how much you appreciate him looking out for you.

You begin your exam, gently kneading where his neck meets his shoulders, checking for any anomalies. Then you move to his throat. The throat you’ve so often been distracted by. It’s featured prominently in your daydreams. You move your hands along it, under his jawline. Having a man this powerful baring one of the most vulnerable parts of his body to you is intoxicating. Focus, di’kut.

Everything feels normal except for some knots you find resting right below the surface of his smooth skin. “Lymph nodes feel good. You’re a little tense, though. But I bet it’s from that bucket you have to wear most of the day.” He hums in thought. “True. But even so. Maybe you could give me some of those ideas for stress management?” He looks up at you with big eyes. There’s mischief in them but something else. Vulnerability?

You gulp audibly. “Of course. There are a few that work particularly well, um, like deep breathing techniques, going on walks, talking with friends, meditation, journaling, physical activity…” You’re rambling, fighting a losing game against your resolve. Wolffe thinks on it. “Physical activity seems like a good place to start.” His hands come up to gently cover yours that are still resting on his neck.

The sensation of his calloused fingers on your skin sends shivers down your body. You close your eyes, feeling the last of your self-control topple over. “Wolffe,” you whine “We shouldn’t…” He immediately drops his hands, worry etched on his face. “I’m so sorry. It’s just- I thought you wanted-.” He cuts himself off, snapping up to his feet and to attention. “Doctor, you should report me to General Plo Koon for immediate disciplinary action.”

Dank Farrik, you’ve just ruined everything.“Wolffe! No, I’m not reporting you to anyone. If anything you should report me for being so unprofessional.” His shoulders relax a bit but he still eyes you as if you’re a live grenade that might explode at any second. “What do you mean?” You sigh in frustration. This isn’t how you wanted to confess your feelings to him.

“I…want you, Wolffe. The second I realized that I should have asked to be re-assigned to a different battalion. Instead I thought I could push those feelings down and continue to do my job. Looks like that was a mistake.” You hang your head, avoiding his piercing gaze. He’s silent for just a moment but it feels like an eternity.

“So, you want me and I want you?” You nod your head, ashamed, as he continues. “Then what’s the problem, Doc?” Your eyes snap to his, not believing what you’re hearing.

“Isn’t it wrong of us?”

Wolffe sits down on the exam table again, genuinely thinking on it. “I don’t see why. We’re both consenting adults. We don’t work directly with each other- I report to General Koon, you report to General Kenobi- so there’s no real conflict of interest. The worst we’ll face is a little ribbing from the boys if they find out.”

You raise your head to look him in the eyes, needing to make sure he’s serious and that this isn’t some twisted joke. What you find staring back at you is hope and promise. He senses your trepidation and gently takes your hands in his. “I’m sorry if I came on strong. But the thing about this life is that there are no guarantees. Tomorrow isn’t promised and so I figured I’d rather go for something, someone, that I want and have my heart broken rather than regretting my inaction.”

Your eyes roam the scars on his face, evidence of just how true his words are. You’re heading into active battle tomorrow. One or both of you could be injured, or worse. You step towards him. He spreads his legs so you have room to get closer. You rest your forehead on his, breathing him in.

His hands come up to caress your sides. You take a shaky breath. He questions you softly. “Cyar’ika?” Ah, now that’s one of the new words you definitely remember. His vulnerability makes you ache and the decision to hand your heart over is an easy one. “You’re right, Wolffe. Might as well do some living while we can.”

*******

[miracleonice87]

anything with matty tkachuk! but maybe a fluffy one where it’s your first season living together after being long distance for awhile and it’s like the moments you guys go through? first fight, first night together, new game day rituals, etc.

a/n: the last of the requests for the moment! I’ll probably open them back up soon. here’s a piece with a few vignettes referred to in the request. enjoy! 

warnings: partners arguing, brief mention of sex

_____

Firsts

first night…

“You’re going to throw your back out.”

Matthew scoffed. “You think you’re so heavy but you weigh next to nothing,” he insisted, scooping his arm beneath the crooks of your knees, the other steady beneath your underarms as he lifted you off the ground.

You chuckled, covering your face with your hand shyly.

“Matthew,” you whined. He shook his head.

“Nope, we’re doing it,” he told you, walking toward the front door. “You’re finally moving in with me. We’re doing the cheesy ‘carry you over the threshold’ thing.”

You couldn’t argue with that. Smiling, you looped your arms around his neck and resigned to his resolve. A few yards more, and Matthew was kicking open the door with one foot.

As he stepped into the house, he let out an adorable “ta daaa!” and beamed at you.

“Welcome home, princess,” he said sweetly. You leaned in to kiss him and pinched gently at his cheek.

“Thank you, my love,” you said. Matthew put you down carefully and closed the door behind him. As you stepped forward into the living room — your living room — you spotted not only a gorgeous bouquet of blush pink roses, but also an overflowing gift basket filled with an array of your favorite items. The jasmine candles you always burned in your own apartment, the lavender tea you drank each night before bed, your favorite shampoo and conditioner, the shower gel you always stocked up on at your favorite St. Louis boutique — all of it, and more, was tucked inside.

“Baby…” you began breathlessly, running your hand along the perimeter of the wicker. “What did you do?”

Matthew approached from behind with a smile, wrapping his arms around your middle and burying a kiss in your hair.

“I just wanted you to have some things that’ll hopefully make you feel at home here,” he said somberly. “And I gotta admit, Taryn helped me track down the stuff from St. Louis,” he added with a chuckle.

You turned in his hold to face him, and he noted the glistening in your green eyes as he reached for your face.

“You are so sweet. Thank you, baby,” you said, pressing your lips against his. When you parted, Matthew noticed the way your bright smile had faded. He knew why.

As thrilled as you were to be moving in with Matthew at last after a full year of dating long distance, you were still anxious leaving your hometown of St. Louis. You couldn’t wait to start your life in Calgary with Matthew, but living so far from your family and childhood friends had you battling homesickness from the second you took off from Lambert. The reality had caused you to break down on the plane and was bringing tears to your eyes once more.

“You okay?” Matthew asked kindly, kissing your forehead repeatedly. You held his wrists and nodded.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” you said.

“I know it’s not gonna be easy, sweetheart,” Matthew said, pulling you closer. “But your parents are welcome here anytime, and you can go visit them literally whenever you want. And you know my parents are gonna be up here way more now that you’re here. We all know they like you better than me,” he told you, pulling a giggle from you as you looked up at him with a smirk.

“There’s a smile,” he said. You nodded, sniffling.

“Trust me, Matthew, I’m so happy to be here with you,” you assured him. “This is where I’ve wanted to be for so long, and you’re so gracious for having me here. And I can’t believe how thoughtful these gifts were. The excitement I feel to start my life with you outweighs any sadness I’ll feel. Trust me on that.”

Matthew grinned, and you couldn’t help but reflect his joy in your own expression.

“I love you, princess,” he said, hugging you tight. “Welcome home.”

“I love you, too, Matthew,” you said against his shoulder.

_____

first fight…

It had taken a few weeks, but you soon settled into your new life in Calgary with little trouble. Spending every day with Matthew felt like a dream — you were both giddy when you hopped into bed together each night and woke up next to each other the following morning.

As Matthew began training camp, you found your own routine with your work as a freelance graphic designer. You only put in about twenty to thirty hours per week, which Matthew knew you did because you wanted to, not because you felt you needed to. He reminded you every so often that you could quit at any point if you no longer felt the need to work — though you told him not to hold his breath.

Matthew refused to let go of his housekeeper, as he wanted to save you from doing all of the chores, though you did insist on taking over the bulk of the household duties because you actually found them enjoyable — scheduling, grocery shopping, meal planning, cooking, laundry, and paying bills.

It was that last little item that caused the first tiff between you and Matthew since you had moved in with him — in fact, the first tiff the two of you had had in months.

One afternoon, after Matthew returned home from practice, he kissed your cheek and grabbed a glass of water before sitting down at the kitchen table to chat with you, as he did almost every day. As you worked on a logo design for a client, Matthew sat scrolling through his phone; then, eyebrows furrowing, he paused.

“Hey, babe?” he began. You acknowledged him with a distracted “hmm?” without looking away from your screen.

“It’s no big deal if so,” Matthew spoke, “but did you forget to pay the water bill this month? And maybe… maybe the electric bill, too? I don’t see that they’ve been deducted from my account yet, so I just wanna make sure they’re not late.”

Heat crept up your neck and chest as you slowly closed your laptop, pursing your lips to the side. When you didn’t respond right away, Matthew looked at you curiously.

You took a deep breath and pulled your legs underneath you, curling up and wishing you could hide from this altogether.

“Don’t be mad…” you said softly.

Not a good start, Matthew thought to himself. He clicked his phone to lock it and set it aside, folding his arms on the table.

“Babe…” he said, a warning in the single word.

You picked nervously at the seam of your leggings. “Okay. I kind of…” you cleared your throat, stalling. “I kind of paid those two out of my own account. But just those two. I swear.”

Matthew rolled his eyes, pushing himself out of his seat as he muttered, “oh, my god.”

Yep, he was pissed.

After pacing for a few moments, Matthew crossed his arms against his chest and faced you.

“I thought we talked about this,” he said, clearly frustrated.

You dropped your head. “I-I know…” you said timidly. “We did. I just-“

“And you paid them yourself anyway? Despite having already discussed it?” he questioned, his volume rising.

With lightly shaking hands, you tucked some hair behind one ear and swallowed hard, unable to meet his gaze, which was sure to be intense.

“Yes,” was all you could manage.

Matthew tossed his baseball cap on the table and sighed loudly, resuming his pacing across the hardwood.

“Baby, we can’t start out like this,” he said firmly. “I didn’t ask you to come live with me so we could split the cost of living like you’re some random roommate of mine. I asked you to move in because I want to share my life with you — I wanna share everything with you. I make more money than I’ll ever be able to spend, and you should not be spending your own money to pay our bills.”

As he spoke, you chewed anxiously on the inside of your cheek. When he paused, he sighed once more.

“Can you look at me, please?” he requested.

With a shaky inhale, you did as he asked, and his gaze softened the moment he saw the unease on your face.

“What’s goin’ on here, baby?” Matthew asked. “You’ve gotta talk to me. We’re partners.”

You pulled the sleeves of your sweatshirt down to cover your closed fists as you considered how even to answer him. Finally, you decided on a simple response.

“I feel like a mooch,” you said quietly, your eyes traveling downward again.

Out of your frame of vision, Matthew’s face fell. He felt sick at what he had just heard. He crossed the room swiftly, easily pulling out your chair and turning it to face him. He knelt before you and gathered your hands in his own.

“Princess… hey,” he said gently as he reached to smooth his hand over your hair. “Look at me.” This time, it wasn’t a question.

You forced yourself to look at him, finding immediate comfort in the tender way he was now looking at you as compared to before. He squeezed your thighs soothingly as he spoke again.

“You are anything but a mooch,” he said with conviction. “You are my girlfriend, who I love — who I’m obsessed with. You’re the person I want to spend my life with. I wanna take care of you in every way I possibly can, including financially. You know what I mean?”

You nodded slowly, unable to think of a convincing argument against him.

“I don’t want to fight about this with you,” Matthew continued, shaking his head. “We shouldn’t be fighting about money. Listen, if you want to spend your money on things that are only yours, that’s fine. Even though I really wish you wouldn’t even do that.” He muttered the last part and you offered the tiniest smile. “I don’t want you footing our bills, babe. You don’t need to worry about that. Okay? I want you to let me take care of all of that. Please?”

You nodded slowly. “I’m sorry,�� you whispered. “I didn’t want to go behind your back. I just felt like I wanted to contribute.”

Matthew gave you a disbelieving expression. “Contribute? Babe, you contribute so much. You’ve barely been here a month and shit around here is more organized than it’s ever been. You’ve already got this place running like a well-oiled machine,” he told you as you breathed a chuckle. “You take care of me in countless ways. Let me handle the money. That’s the easy part.”

You let your head roll back with a sigh, knowing that Matthew was being the logical one in this instance. “Okay,” you agreed as you wrapped your arms around his neck. “I will. I’m sorry.”

Matthew shook his head, kissing the tip of your nose and then your lips. “Don’t be sorry,” he said. “Let’s just go upstairs and have make-up sex since this was our first fight in forever.”

You threw your head back in laughter. “You are something else,” you told your boyfriend, who was already picking you up out of your chair and toting you upstairs.

_____

first game…

As you stood in your closet selecting an outfit for Matthew’s home opener, you felt a familiar pair of arms snake around your waist and a set of lips you knew well come to rest on your cheekbone. A grin overtook your face.

“Good morning, sunshine,” you teased as Matthew relentlessly planted kisses on your skin. “How was your nap? I didn’t wake you, did I?”

You turned his direction, and Matthew shook his head. You smoothed the short curls atop his head and he nearly purred, making you laugh.

“My nap was good,” he said with a yawn. “And you’re gonna make me fall asleep again if you keep doing that.”

You snickered, kissing his jaw, before you turned back around and reached for a couple articles of hanging clothing.

“Once you pick what you’re wearing, can you make me a cup of coffee?” Matthew asked from behind.

Your brows pulled together, puzzled, and you cocked your head as you turned back toward him.

“Are you really that helpless?” you said in your best teasing tone.

Matthew rolled his eyes lightheartedly and said, “No, I can make my own, but I don’t want to. We’ve got a good thing going.”

You shook your head, amused. “Okay, I’m lost,” you told him, hanging your outfit on the back of the closet door to steam later. “What are you talking about?”

Matthew followed you out of the closet and toward the hall.

“You made me my coffee before the last three preseason games at home, remember? And we won them all,” he said matter-of-factly. “So yeah, if you don’t mind, we’re gonna keep that going. Unless you wanna be the reason we lose…”

“No!” you exclaimed immediately. Matthew laughed — he knew that would do the trick, as you were nearly as superstitious as he. “I’m going now,” you said. As you turned to descend the stairs, you glanced back at him, batting your lashes. “Cream and sugar?” you asked sweetly. 

Matthew laughed hysterically and tickled your sides as he followed you down to the kitchen, thankful once more that you were here to share not only his home with him, but his life. 

[combat-wombatus]

Crimson Snow

Pairing: Hawks (Takami Keigo) x Fem!Reader

Genre: angst :’) (a lil bit of fluff thrown in here and there)

Warnings: mentions of blood, character death. 

WC: 7.8k. am i sorry? no.

Summary: Childhood friends doesn’t always equal lovers in the future. You wished that was the case, but ever since Keigo disappeared, you found it hard to believe in love again. 

(A/N): this was. i had to write this. it wasn’t up for debate. finishing this at 4am in the morning aldksjfhajshd. spent a grant total of 2 days brainstorming & writing this fic. not proofread at all. heavily inspired by the song 小幸运 by Hebe Tien. i strongly suggest you give it a try and listen to it as you read this :p (for all my chinese speakers out there...let’s see how you deal with this heartbreak :’) so yeah. i’m actually...really really proud of this fic. i tried a new format with this, and i think i kinda like it. also i left the ending up to interpretation if you don’t read the epilogue. enjoy! 

credit for this au goes to @wafflesandkruge​

here’s the link to the music :)

The one constant in your life.

The boy who’d always been there for you, through the dark days and the cold nights, holding your hand through it all.

The one who’d held you when you broke down.

The one who’d tucked you under his wings as the skies crackled with energy, rain pouring from the heavens, and told you that no matter where you went, he’d stay with you. He’d keep you nice and dry, snuggled close to his body as he shielded you from the storm.

The one constant in your life.

He’d left quietly in the night, not stopping by to say farewell.

In his place, he’d left a lonesome letter, tucked away beneath a boulder on your special hill.

“I’ll come back for you. Wait for me, okay?”

And from within that plain white envelope, a single red feather floated out, carried on the autumn winds, drifting aimlessly.

Almost as if it were lost.

And in that moment, you felt as if you’d lost a part of yourself, a little piece of your soul.

You weren’t sure you were ever going to get it back.

Years passed. You waited. There was no sign of him

Not in the skies, not on the land, and even though you’d sometimes see him in the reflection of the water, sitting next to you as you told him about your day, he wasn’t really there either.

I won’t give up on him.

I’ll stay strong.

He told me he’d come back for me.

Against the test of time, your resolve never withered. It only grew, strong as steel, taking over the crevices in your heart where he’d left his mark.

I’ll wait for you, Kei.

But please…come back to me.

“Hey, (Y/N)!” Your friend called out enthusiastically from her position on the couch. “Come look!”

“What?” You stepped out of the kitchen, only to be greeted by a familiar face, smirking on the TV screen.

“Look at him! He’s this new hero, and he’s only 18! (Y/N)! He’s our age! Isn’t he hot?” She pointed at his flickering image. “His hero name is Hawks!” Squealing, she turned to you. “Isn’t that so cool?”

You stood in shock, the glass of water that you had been holding slipped from your fingers and shattered onto the floor. Liquid pooled around your feet, soaking your slippers, but you made no move to step aside.

“Woah! (Y/N), are you okay?” She jumped off the couch, rushing towards you. “Hey, (Y/N)? He’s cute and all but…this is a little bit much, isn’t it?” She looked at you with concern, eyebrows drawing tighter when you didn’t respond.

“(Y/N) …what’s wrong? You look like you just saw a ghost.”

Shaking yourself from your daze, you averted your eyes. “Ahh, I’m sorry. Uh…I just, I never thought I’d see him again.”

“Wait, you know him?” Your friend looked at you, surprised. “(Y/N) …did he do something to you?” She asked softly. “If he did, I don’t care how cute he is, I’m gonna kick his ass to high heaven if need be. Someone like that shouldn’t be a hero.”

You shook your head, chuckling a little. “No…no, there’s no need to do that. It’s just…it’s been a long time, and I just didn’t expect to see him.”

“Ahh. Well, step out of that puddle! Come on, let’s grab you some paper towels.”

Hey!

It’s me, (Y/N). I…I saw you on TV today. You look…different. In a good way, I suppose. You’ve bulked up a bit.

You never used to smile like that though. Not like…like you were smiling for others. Seeing you smile for the camera, well…it made me sad.

But I’m happy that you’re ok. I think it would probably be hard for you to find me, since obviously I’m not on the news. So I’ll come find you instead, yeah? What do you say we catch up sometime?

I miss you. I’m in college now. I’m doing pretty good. You’re an overachiever, aren’t you? 18 years old and you already have your own agency.

Not that I’m complaining. Thanks for making it so easy for me to find you :)

So…let’s meet up sometime, when you have time? Maybe for some coffee? I know a quaint little place. It’s not too far away from your agency, three blocks to the right, turn left, and walk to the next intersection. It’s the corner shop. You can’t miss it.

I’ll wait for you there this Saturday, okay? I’ll do my work there. You can walk in whenever you have the time.

Your chicken, (Y/N)

Saturday came faster than you could prepare yourself. You checked your reflection repeatedly in the mirror, double-guessing your outfit decisions.

What if he doesn’t like it?

Is this too formal for a coffee date?

“Hey, (Y/N)!” Your friend barged into the bathroom. “I saw all the clothes on your bed! Are you going on a date?”

“Uh…just a meeting with an old friend. To catch up,” you explained.

She looked at you suspiciously. “Old friend…is it that guy on TV? Hawks?”

You grew flustered. “Err…yeah. If he got my letter.”

She looked you up and down, then dragged you into her closet. “Good thing I just went on a shopping spree last weekend then!” She pumped a fist excitedly in the air. “I’m giving you a makeover!”

Two hours later, you stood in front of the bathroom mirror once more. Your friend had put you through every single possible combination of outfits using both your closet and hers, and you had to agree that she had impeccable taste.

“Come on, you’re going to be late!” She shoved you out of the bathroom.

“I didn’t set a time!” You protested, laughing.

“Well, get your ass out of here! My boyfriend’s coming over!”

“So that’s the real reason you want me gone, hmm?” You teased her.

“Shush! Get out!”

Hawks was on patrol. You had been on his mind the entire week. Ever since your letter had reached his desk, he couldn’t stop thinking about you.

Thinking about you brought back happier times, and he wasn’t masochistic enough to give himself false hope.

No, it would be better for you to forget about him, and vice versa.

Still, he couldn’t stop himself. His body flew of its own accord, ignoring the sensibilities of his mind that screamed at it to stop.

Go back! The reasonable voice inside his head yelled.

Fly back!

His body refused to listen.

He found himself gently landing on a rooftop, right across the little café you told him to meet you at.

He even debated going inside. Just for a second. Just for a cup of coffee, to warm myself up in the chilly late-afternoon breeze, he told himself.

Then, he scoffed. Who was he kidding? If he went inside, he wouldn’t have the resolve to step back out before he saw you.

Shaking his head, he flew away as quickly as he could.

If he’d stayed a moment longer, he would’ve seen you walk down the street, humming a little tune to yourself.

Maybe then his resolve would’ve cracked.

Too bad he’ll never know.

Sitting alone at a table for two was an unpleasant feeling. Especially when you’re on your third drink, the waitress keeps eyeing you with pity, and you couldn’t concentrate on your work.

“Miss?” The waitress stopped by your table again. “Sorry to bother you, but we’re closing in 15 minutes.”

You checked the time on your laptop. Crap. It was already 5:15.

“Oh yeah, uhh, sorry to bother you!” You chuckle awkwardly. You quickly packed your books and laptop, dropped a $20 bill on the table, and hurried out the door. Walking home in silence, you tried your best not to feel too disappointed.

Maybe he just didn’t have time?

It’s ok. You’ll just ask him again, another time.

Another time.

You sent him countless letters. For the first year, at least. When he ignores all of them, you visit his agency in person.

As you walk through the glass doors, there’s a man sitting behind the reception desk.

“Hello, miss. How can I help you today?” He asks in the customary polite tone.

“I’m looking for Keigo. Hawks,” you answer, trying to hide your nervousness.

He looks at you suspiciously. “How do you know his first name?”

“We…we were childhood friends,” you tried to explain. “I…well, I haven’t seen him in a while.”

He took a closer look at you. “Can I ask for your name, miss?”

“(Y/N). (Y/N) (Y/L/N).”

He sighed. “I’m afraid that you’ll have to leave the premises, Miss (Y/L/N). You’re not allowed to be here.”

What?

He hadn’t kicked you out before you told him your name.

“Why-” you started, but he cut you off.

“Miss (Y/L/N). I’m afraid that I have to ask you to leave, and don’t come back. Should I call security to escort you out?”

Holding back tears, you clutched your purse close to your chest and hurried out the glass doors, wishing nothing more than to shatter them into pieces.

You didn’t send any more letters after that.

Years pass. Every year on your birthday, Keigo gave you a feather.

“So I’ll always be with you,” he joked.

His feathers are extra durable, but time can wear down even the strongest things.

The last feather you got from him was ten years ago.

It can barely be considered a feather at this point, and you keep it in a special glass case so it can’t get any more worn down.

Ten years.

You’re turning 25 tomorrow.

Ten years of waiting around for him turned into ten years of watching him date other women. Ten years of hiding your pain every time another picture of him kissing a new girl graced the covers of the tabloids.

The first time, you cried yourself to sleep.

It wasn’t the last time.

Again and again, he breaks your heart.

By the third year, you convinced yourself to stop looking at the tabloids and the gossip sites.

By the fifth year, you scold yourself. You vow to stop crying over a stupid childhood crush.

By the seventh, you told yourself that you needed to forget about him. Step back into the dating ring, make out with someone else, and remove his presence entirely from your mind.

That didn’t work out.

Ten years.

It killed you to finally harden your resolve, but you told yourself that you couldn’t spend your whole life waiting for someone who was never going to love you back.

You’re turning 25 tomorrow, and you’re going to go on a date.

He’s watching you. He always is.

It makes him feel like a creepy stalker, but he can’t help it.

He watches you as you step into the restaurant, decked out in formal wear that looked amazing on you.

Going on a date. With someone who wasn’t him.

He stays on the rooftop, watching you through a window as you ate and laughed.

He wishes that he was the one making you laugh, that he was the one helping you order food from the menu, that he was the one sharing a dessert with you.

He’s selfish like that. It never does him any good.

He’s scared, really. Scared of commitment, tarnished by his time spent in the work program.

He sees you as the one thing in life that they can’t take away from him. You have this innocence, this purity that you always carry around with you, because you’re a part of a time when his life wasn’t so complicated.

He doesn’t want to shatter that illusion.

He never reached out to you because he’s scared.

He’s scared that he’ll break you.

He stopped sending you feathers, heart splintering every time your birthday comes around, hoping you’ll eventually forget him.

You don’t.

It’s not that you didn’t try.

No one else really interested you.

That is, until Masaki came along. He was bright, happy, always upbeat. He could find the words to cheer you up, to make a bad day that much better. He was attentive, caring, sweet.

He was everything that most people would look for in a partner.

And slowly, you began to open up to him too.

You fell into his embrace easier. You got a little happier when he came over for dinner.

You felt just a little safer when you were wrapped in his arms, a luxury you never thought you’d have.

Two years later, during a picnic date, he proposed.

You always had a love for picnic dates. Maybe because your first date, with Keigo, was a messy picnic affair during the spring, on top of a little hill where wildflowers bloomed and birds pecked at your leftovers.

“Stop!” You giggled, whipped cream smeared all over your cheeks. “You’re going to get it on my clothes!”

Keigo laughed, then popped another strawberry in your mouth. “You can wash that off later, silly! Just have fun!”

“It’s not fun when my clothes are all sticky,” you whined. “You try it! It feels gross!”

He smirked. “Oh really?”

Taking a strawberry, he dipped it in the container of cream you had brought, then stuck it down his shirt.

“Ha! Take that!” He gloated.

You stared at him in shock. “Did you just–”

“Yes I did! And it’s not gross at all, see?” He plucked the strawberry back out and shoved it in his mouth.

“Eww! Kei, that’s disgusting!”

“No it’s not, it still tastes like a strawberry! Mphm!” He chewed, licking his fingers.

He regretted that decision later, when bees swarmed the front of his shirt.

“Eek!” He shrieked, hopping backwards.

“Kei, take off your shirt!”

“It’s so sticky!” He yelped, trying to peel the front of his shirt away from his chest.

“I told you!”

“Hey, now is NOT the time for the ‘I told you so’ speech, okay?” He finally ripped his shirt off.

You couldn’t help it. You cackled.

“What now?” He looked at the bees feasting on his ruined tee.

“I told you so,” you teased him.

Taking one look at the devious glint in his eyes, you scooped up the picnic supplies and raced down the hill.

He followed, wings beating, taking off into the air. He reached you within seconds, tacking you to the ground.

“Hey, that’s not fair!” You struggled against him. “You know you’re fast when you fly!”

He looked at you mischievously. “And what about it?”

“You can’t race me like that when I’m on foot!”

“Who said we were racing?” His eyes locked on your lips. “I was just trying to catch up to you.”

You blushed, suddenly realizing how close his face was to yours.

“Kei–” you started.

“Can I kiss you?” He interrupted you, then quickly blushed. “I mean, only if you want to-”

You wrapped your hands in his hair, interrupting him with a kiss.

He tasted like the remnants of strawberries and cream, sweet honey on a beautiful spring day.

And it was a beautiful spring day.

Perhaps the last beautiful spring day you’d ever have, for the next spring, he was gone.

Beautiful spring days were few and far between. You’d learned that the hard way.

But today…you were inclined to think that it might be another one of those days.

Your boyfriend of two years had proposed on a beautiful spring day reminiscent of one long ago.

You supposed that this marked a series of firsts.

First date. First kiss. And now…a proposal.

You accept his proposal, tears in your eyes. He thinks that they’re tears of happiness, and in part, they are.

You don’t tell him that this was the one thing that you never thought you’d do. You feel like you’re betraying Keigo.

You have to remind yourself that he betrayed you first.

Half a year later, you have a wedding. It’s a small wedding, with only your families and close friends. You considered reaching out to Hawks’s hero agency, but decided to spare yourself the pain.

He’d moved on. So would you.

Unbeknownst to you, when the ceremony rolled around, Keigo was standing on a nearby rooftop, the wind blowing away his tears.

He couldn’t believe how beautiful you were.

He knew that he couldn’t have you, but didn’t you know that he was a sucker for pain? Watching you repeat the vows was like getting punched full-force in the gut, but the wind never returned to his lungs.

He felt empty inside. Something essential was missing, and he knew what it was, but he also knew that he couldn’t ever have it. Not if he wanted you to stay alive.

As the ceremony finished, he flew away into the sunset, and you caught a glimpse of his crimson wings, purely on accident. You shook your head in disbelief.

“Now I’m hallucinating too,” you muttered to yourself.

But no matter how hard you tried to convince yourself you imagined the whole thing, that final view made it so much harder for you to forget him.

Another year passed, and the seasons changed as they did. Spring flowing into summer, summer fading into autumn, autumn slowly drifting into winter.

Gradually, your new life engulfed you, the comfort of it all slowly draining away your doubts. Your husband was a good man. A faithful man. A caring man.

He held doors open for you and snuggled you on the couch. He played with your hair and made you breakfast in bed. He made it difficult for you not to love him.

You weren’t entirely sure you wanted to resist, anyways.

One night, you woke up in your shared bed, screaming in pain. Your lower back burned, almost as if you were getting branded.

Your husband woke up to the commotion. The bedsheets were stained with blood. Fresh, crimson, blood, all of it coming from you.

Whimpering, you laid limp as Masaki set you on your belly, trying to figure out the source of the injury. Taking a clean paper towel, he gingerly wiped the blood off of your raw skin, showing a tattoo emblazoned in gold ink.

Written in elegant cursive were three simple words.

Three words, but they hurt to look at.

(Y/N) …I’m sorry.

Your husband stared in shock. This didn’t happen. This couldn’t happen, could it? The only way someone got a tattoo like this was if their soulmate died, and, well…he was still very much alive.

He wasn’t your soulmate.

In this world, quirks weren’t the only strange thing.

Soulmates existed. But most never found out until it was too late.

When your soulmate died, their last words would be tattooed permanently on their other half’s skin in a bloody and painful process.

Their last moments would flash before the other’s eyes.

Nothing you could do. Nothing you could be sure of, until it was too late.

Fires blazed everywhere.

Building after building, it ate away at the crumbling city, tearing down everything in its path.

“Help!” A voice choked out, raspy from smoke intake. “There’s a beam—ugh—on my leg. I can’t get it off!”

A winged figure crouched on a burning rooftop, out of breath and utterly exhausted.

Backup wasn’t coming.

The whole city was burning.

Standing shakily, he sent the last of his feathers off to help the trapped woman.

“That’s it for me then, I suppose,” his smile wobbled slightly. “My work here is done.”

He couldn’t risk jumping off of the roof. His wings were stubs on his back, and only a single feather remained.

“That’s not enough for me to fly off, now is it?” He chuckled mirthlessly. “Oh, if only you could see me right now, (Y/N). You’d be proud. Saved more than 500 people today, you know that?” He sighed, sitting down on the roof. “Lost count somewhere around there. You were always proud of me, weren’t you? The only one that believed in me when I told myself I couldn’t fly.

You’re the one that taught me to fly, remember, chicken? Those were the good times.

Look at me now. Talking to myself. Don’t even have the strength to fly down anymore.” He coughed into his hand, blood staining his palm. He grasped tightly onto a keychain around his neck, smearing the metal with crimson.

“I never did thank you. Guess it’s too late now.” He stared up at the sky, hues of orange and gold dancing across the horizon.

“Never did treat you right.” He plucked his last feather off of his back, twirling it around in his fingers.

“You were always too good for me. Too good for anyone, really.” He laid down on the roof, back no longer sensitive to the burning heat.

“I lost the right to love you a long time ago. I’ve got no business crying over you.” He chuckled bitterly. “But is that going to stop me?”

Letting go of the keychain and his feather, his hands went limp.

“(Y/N),” he sighed, closing his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

The roof collapsed, the hungry flames licking at the bottom finally swallowing him whole. His comms fell out of his ear, the plastic melting in the heat.

A single red feather floated down to the ground, charred and blackened.

The only remains of his body they’ll ever find.

You were sobbing uncontrollably. Keigo.

He was your soulmate.

The boy you loved.

The one who’d abandoned you.

The one who you tried to forget.

He was your soulmate.

Your soulmate, who was dead.

“Turn…turn on the TV,” you whispered weakly. “Turn it on. I need to see.”

Masaki reached for the remote, flipping it on to the news channel.

“Earlier tonight, a bomb was detonated in Nagoya prefecture. Top heroes were on the scene, including Endeavor and Hawks, but their quirks are ill-suited to fight the conflagration. Endeavor has resorted to using brute strength to rescue people from the rubble, while Hawks hasn’t been seen since the beginning of the night. We are now reporting his status as MIA, and will continue to look for the Winged Hero, along with updating our reports on the status of missing civilians–”

You shut the TV off. You’d heard all you needed to.

Throwing on a mishmash of clothing, you sprinted out the door. Hailing a taxi, you hopped in before it had even screeched to a full stop.

“Hawks Hero Agency.” You told the driver, not bothering to mince your words. You hadn’t bothered to wipe all the blood off of your back either, so it was gradually staining your coat a deep crimson, a mocking parody of the way that Keigo’s feathers used to lay against his back.

His feathers that were burnt, charred, turned to ashes, no longer able to bring you the comfort they once had when they wrapped you in a warm embrace.

The driver looked concerned. “Miss, do you know what happened today? Hawks isn’t–”

“Yes, I know. Drive.”

You pressed your forehead against the window, breath steaming up the glass. It reminded you of one winter, when the two of you had been building snowmen, and your mother called you in for dinner.

“Kei, I have to go,” you tugged at his hand.

“Aww, (Y/N),” he kicked at an unfortunate stone with the scuffed toe of his boot. “Why can’t you stay a little longer? We haven’t finished his head yet.” He pouted.

“I can’t, Kei,” you tried to make him release his iron grip on your hand. “Mama’s gonna get mad.”

“Then I’ll make you stay!” He boldly declared, wrapping his little arms around your frame, tackling you to the snow-covered ground.

The two of you giggled, engaged in a tickle war, your mom’s voice fading into the distance.

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N)!” Your mom yelled, marching over to where the two of you lay, tangled in a heap. “Do you want to get a cold?”

“No, Mama,” you said, slowly getting up and dusting the snow off of your parka. “I’m coming.” You turned around and poked your tongue out at your friend, letting your mom drag you back into your house.

Keigo sat in the snow for a while longer, not exactly excited to go back to his house.

Suddenly, an idea popped into his head.

He beat his little wings as fast as he could, half flying, half stumbling to your kitchen window.

Sneaking a peek inside, he saw you staring questioningly back at him. Not bothering to hide his mischievous grin, he puffed out a breath, steaming the window, took his little glove off, and started writing.

“D O  Y O U  W A N T  T O  F L Y  W I T H  M E ?” He painstakingly wrote out.

You shook your head, and his grin quickly dropped from his face. Looking down, he almost missed the words you mouthed out.

“I can’t read it!” You tried your best to sign. “It’s backwards!”

“Oh!” He tried his best to write the mirror image of what he had just written, making sure that you could read it from your point of view this time. You read his little message, a grin taking over your face.

“Y E S!” You mouthed. “YES, YES, YES!”

Quickly scarfing down your dinner, you waved a hasty goodbye to your mom, racing out the back door, only to get tackled into the snow.

“Come on, let’s go!” He took ahold of your hand. “Race you!”

“You can’t race me if you’re holding my hand!” You shrieked in delight. “Stop it!”

He paused, turning around. “Hmm. Well, maybe I don’t want to race you then,” he looked at you with a small smile on his face. “I wanna try something new!”

“Oh?” You asked, seeing the way his eyes lit up with delight. “What is it?”

“I wanna fly! With you!”

Giggling, he turned you around so that your back was facing him. He circled his arms below your armpits.

“Hang on!” He flapped his wings as fast as he could, kicking up a storm of snow around you. To his surprise, he actually managed to lift the two of you off the ground for around 3 feet or so. He wasn’t expecting it to work on his first try, but the two of you really were flying!

Sighing, you turned away from the window.

Happier times, you chuckled mirthlessly.

Isn’t it sad that I’m only remembering them now?

The car screeched to a stop at the front door to the Hawks Hero Agency.

You stepped into the lobby, the fluorescent lights blinding.

It’s the middle of the night, but they don’t seem to mind, you thought. Everyone was bustling around the place like it was normal.

The receptionist had changed since you’d last been here.

She spotted you and hurried over, most likely because of the blood staining your clothes.

“Miss, are you hurt?” She gave you a once-over. “Can I help you?”

You stared at her in shock for a moment. What were you here for again?

“Oh…uh,” you wrung your hands nervously. “I’m here for Hawks.”

Her expression of concern melted away into one of annoyance. “Another fangirl. This one appears to be married too,” she scoffed at the band adorning your left ring finger. “People these days…” she muttered underneath her breath, already hurrying back to her desk, where the phone rang incessantly.

“No. I’m not a fangirl.” You lifted your head. You might be in pain, but damned if you were going to let a stranger strip you of the remaining shreds of your dignity.

“I’m his soulmate.”

The way you said that phrase with such conviction made the lady pause.

“Soulmate?” She questioned. Girls had tried this trick on her before, but…when asked to prove themselves, they merely responded with “oh, it’s just a feeling,” or “I just know it.”

Never once had anyone said this phrase with such confidence.

“Yes.” You shut your eyes, defiantly holding back tears. “You have comms, right? What did he say before the comms died?”

The lady stared back at you, a pang of sorrow shooting its way into her heart. You weren’t joking around, were you?

“I…yes, yes we do. What’s your name, miss?”

You sucked in a deep breath. “(Y/N). (Y/N) (Y/L/N).”

She stared at you for another moment, then quietly pulled out her comms.

“He said…” she choked a little. “He said, ‘(Y/N) …I’m sorry.’ We weren’t sure who he was talking about. We assumed it was a civilian he wasn’t able to save,” she pressed the back of her hand to her mouth. “Oh God…”

Quietly, she choked out another question. “Was it…was he talking about…you?”

You didn’t want to reply. You’d heard enough.

The lady didn’t try to stop you as you ran to the elevator, your fingertip pressing the “up” button so hard it bruised.

Quickly looking at the directory, you found his office.

“420.” You choked out a pained laugh. “He always did like messing around with people.”

Collapsing against the corner of the elevator, you wrapped your arms around your knees and lowered your head. You felt so goddamn tired.

Why did it have to be you?

Why couldn’t he break someone else’s heart?

Someone who was stronger?

Someone who could take this in stride and move on?

Why did the universe choose you?

The elevator bell dinged, rousing you from your thoughts. You stood up slowly, a trail of blood staining the place where you once sat.

Crimson, like the trail of feathers he’d (perhaps intentionally) shed during that game of hide and seek.

You buried your face into your hands.

Goddamnit, Keigo! Why does everything have to remind me of you?

You made your way into his office, most likely the messiest of all the top pro-hero offices. Paperwork was scattered everywhere, jackets strewn across the floor. You even saw a shoelace string laying on the carpet next to his desk.

It’s almost as if he’d always expected to come back.

Stepping cautiously over the objects that littered the ground, you came face-to-face with a cabinet next to his desk.

Snowglobes. So many snowglobes.

Snowglobes occupied every shelf of the cabinet, and the glass doors made it easy to examine the contents.

You squinted closely at them. They were all…different angles of the same scene, you realized.

The snow park above your houses.

He’d had snowglobes made.

They immortalized the place where the two of you played all day in the snow.

The place where he first learned how to fly, gliding off the hills like a paraglider.

The place where he’d picked you up and learned how to fly with another person’s life in his hands, hugging you close to his chest, reveling in your warmth.

In the spring, it was the place where he took you on your first picnic date.

The place where the two of you shared your first kiss.

The place where he left you his goodbye note, tucked away under the grounding weight of a boulder you used to lay on, basking in the sun’s warmth.

He’d had 12 snowglobes made. Your lucky number.

12 different angles that showcased the same scenery.

Suddenly, your legs wouldn’t carry your weight anymore. You leaned back into his chair, still smelling faintly of his scent.

How can someone’s scent not change over 13 years?

You closed your eyes, and quickly opened them again when you saw a pile of letters on the corner of the desk.

You weren’t sure why they caught your eye. They weren’t anything special, really. Plain white envelopes addressed in plain black print.

You took a closer look.

That was your name on the envelopes.

You leaned closer, quickly shuffling through them all.

Each and every single one of them was addressed to you.

Each and every single one of them was dated a year apart.

Each and every single one of them was marked for your various addresses over the years, his handwriting steadily improving.

You couldn’t resist your curiosity. Taking a paper cutter, you tore through the seal of the earliest envelope.

A single red feather, beautifully preserved, floated out.

You stared in shock. He…he didn’t forget.

He never forgot.

He just chose not to send it.

Hurriedly opening the remaining envelopes, you acquired more feathers, each fresher than the last.

By the end, you had a pile of 13 crimson feathers, right next to 13 shredded envelopes.

You looked around, confused. Why hadn’t he left a note? Any note?

Did he…did he never write letters?

You knew that you had sent him letters.

Maybe they did throw them out as spam.

Your curiosity piqued, you pulled open drawer after drawer, but none of them held anything of personal importance.

Finally, you came upon the bottom right drawer.

It was locked, you realized.

You carefully place the feathers back in their respective envelopes. Sealing them up once again, you carry them in a stack, making your way downstairs.

The agency workers saw you with the letters in your arms, not sure if they should stop you or not. When you looked to the receptionist and murmured a quiet “thank you”, they stood their ground. If she was okay with you walking away like this, then there shouldn’t be a reason that they wouldn’t be.

The taxi driver who took you here was still waiting outside. Seeing you arrive, he stomped out his cigarette butt and opened the backseat door for you.

“Rough night, miss?” He looked at your back, pity obvious in his expression. “Do you want me to take you to a hospital with that?”

You shook your head. “They can’t fix that. Do you remember the way we came?”

“Aye, yes I do,” he stepped into his own seat. “I’ll take you there right quick, miss. Don’t you worry.”

As you rode back home in silence, you couldn’t stop thinking about the cabinet in Keigo’s office.

The feathers, folded away safely in the envelopes you were holding.

If he never forgot, why did he never reach out?

The car door slamming shook you from your daze. “Miss, you’re back home.”

You stared at the man, realizing that you didn’t have your wallet on you.

“Do you mind waiting a second? I’ll go get my wallet now–”

He shook his head. “I know where that blood came from. See here?” He rolled up his sleeve.

“Got mine when I was 22,” a melancholy smile framed his face. “Rare, right? I never did find out who she was.

But the hospital staff helped me that day. Looked for deaths around my age, and then when I tried to pay ‘em, they refused. Said ‘twas only the right thing to do. Now I finally get to repay the favor. Don’t you go tryna pay me now. Won’t ‘ccept it.”

He leaned back against the hood of his car. When you opened your mouth to object, he merely saluted you, hopped back into the driver’s seat, and drove off into the night.

You turned to your house. The lights were still on inside, meaning your husband was still up. He probably couldn’t sleep, not after what had just happened. You couldn’t blame him.

Stepping inside, you heard muffled sobs coming from the kitchen.

“Masaki?” You leaned on the doorframe. He looked up at your voice.

“(Y/N)?” He rose from the table. “You’re…you’re okay,” he wrapped you in a hug.

You cleared your throat. “…yeah. Yeah, I’m okay,” you hugged him back.

I’m okay, you tried to convince yourself.

“Where did you go?” He looked at you curiously. Finally seeing the envelopes in your arms, he paused.

“Babe?” He asked softly. “Did you…did you know him?”

You buried your face into his chest. “Yeah…yeah, I did.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asked softly.

“Not really…not now…” you replied.

He patted your back lightly. “That’s ok. I understand.”

The rest of the night went by in a blur. The letters were scattered on your nightstand, your husband helping you into the shower. He’s changed the bloody sheets already, but the stains on the mattress were stubborn and refused to come out.

Crimson stains, in the shape of wings.

Days later, some people from the agency stopped by your house.

“Is there a (Y/N) (Y/L/N) at this address?” The receptionist from your earlier encounter knocked on the door.

“Uh, hi. Yeah, that’s me,” you answered, not bothering to change out of your bathrobe. Your complexion had grown waxen, face shallow. Your hair formed an unkempt nest, spiraling around your face.

She gave you a smile, pity etched in her face. It disgusted you, really.

All anyone ever gave you nowadays was pity. Pity cards from your coworkers, although you weren’t sure how the information leaked out. Pitiful glances from your husband, who insisted on doing all the chores around the house.

Pity, pity, pity.

“What is it?” You asked her.

“We have some…documents for you.” She waved over two guys, each lugging a large crate of…paper?

“Wait…all that? For me?” You were confused. There was no way that that bottom drawer, even if all it contained were letters, had that much paper in it.

“Yes, (Y/L/N)-san. It’s all for you.” The men dropped off their crates at your door.

“What’s going on?”

“These were stored in the records house. Hawks filed them. They were all addressed to you, so we felt that this was the proper treatment.”

“We’ll leave you to go through these in your own time.” She started down the steps. Then, as if remembering something suddenly, she paused.

“You know…he was a good man,” she smiled gently. “We all knew he had a secret someone. We just didn’t know who they were. I’m glad he found you. Hero work is dangerous, especially for top heroes like him.

I hope that you find joy in those letters.” She turned back and finished her journey down the steps.

You turned around and looked at the crates.

Found me?

You smiled bitterly, a brittle coldness taking over your heart.

He never really did find me, did he?

Sighing, you sorted through the crates, looking for the ones that were dated the earliest. You carried the oldest set of letters into the bedroom and tore open the first envelope.

Hey, (Y/N). It’s me, Kei.

I hope you haven’t forgotten about me. I mean, I’m not an easy person to forget, I suppose, but it has been a while. Three years, to be exact.

Three years can do a lot to a person.

I should know.

How are you doing? I hope you managed to keep Timothy alive. You were always prone to overwatering him.

I’m not sure how long cacti live, but…if you nurture something, anything can happen, right?

I’m a hero now. I’m sure you know. My debut was broadcasted all over national television. They just can’t resist making themselves look good, can they?

At least now I’m allowed to write. I hope you understand why I haven’t written to you in so long.

I didn’t forget about you. How could I? Even though we were only 15, how could I forget someone like you?

I missed you. I don’t think you understand how much. It felt so empty, living without you by my side. Like…like I wasn’t ever warm enough, even bundled in the tightest blankets. I was always missing you.

Sounds like a curse, eh?

But don’t worry. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I just wanted you to know that.

Yours, Kei.

Ripping open letter after letter, you realized that you held his entire life story in your hands.

Hey chicken. It’s Kei again.

Realized I’ve been treating these letters as a kind of diary. I guess it’s…therapeutic? Even though I know I’ll never send these. I don’t want to put you in danger, you know?

Do you remember when we were kids?

We had all the time in the world to do whatever we wanted.

I miss that time.

Not as much as I miss you though.

I check in on you every so often, but I make sure you never see.

False hope is a dangerous thing. It shatters your soul into pieces, and when you try and piece them back together, it cuts your heart so badly you wish you’d never started.

But, you see, you’re like a drug for me.

I can’t seem to stop myself. No matter how bad it hurts, I…I still come back.

You wouldn’t know, of course.

I suppose there’s a reason it hurts when you stare into the sun.

I’m already broken, yeah? I don’t want you to break with me.

The thing is, I know you’d want to. I know we promised we’d always come back for each other. We promised we’d always be here for each other.

But some promises were meant to be broken.

You can’t be here for me, birdie. You’ll get hurt.

That would hurt me more than anything else, (Y/N).

So for my own safety, and yours…

This is the last time I’ll write to you.

I have to move on, or else those pieces of my soul?

They’re already in splinters, but if I keep going like this, they’ll be nothing more than powder, and I don’t think I could go on like that, yeah?

I love you, forever and always.

Kei.

Ha. Guess what.

What I said in the last letter?

A fucking lie.

I physically. Can’t stop.

The thought of not writing to you breaks me more than the thought of never being with you, and that’s a milestone I never thought I’d be able to pass.

So here I am again.

You’ve already heard my entire life story.

I wish I could be there to hear yours.

I saw you tonight, standing on your balcony. You know, the stars were so bright tonight. Reminded me of your eyes the first time I flew with you around the whole field, yeah?

Sparkling. You never stop sparkling, do you?

You know…do you ever wonder who your soulmate is?

I know that the world is cruel. I know that we don’t know exactly who our soulmates are until one of us dies.

But…do you ever think about it?

Who’s out there, just waiting for you?

Because I do.

And sometimes, when I’m at rock bottom, I’ll imagine that we’re soulmates.

I’ll create scenarios in my head. We’d be happily married. I’d spoon-feed you ice cream.

We’d play tickle wars with my feathers, have pillow fights, binge TV shows.

We’d watch horror movies, and you’d hide your face in my chest the whole time.

But…those scenarios always make me feel worse after I wake up. Because they’re not real.

And I…I so desperately want them to be real.

But you can’t always get what you wish for, yeah?

Going on a big mission soon. Undercover. Cool, right?

You’d be proud of me, I think, if you saw me.

I have to go now. But I’ll come back safe for you, yeah?

I know you won’t wait for me. I want you to wait for me, but…I know it’s not in your best interests. Probably not in mine either.

Sometimes I try and convince myself that it’s okay to be selfish. I want what I want, and you only live once, right?

But then I realize that you’re the one I’d be putting in danger.

And that’s when I realize you can’t ever stay with me.

It’s okay. I’ll watch from afar.

I don’t think I’ll ever be able to stop loving you.

Yours,

Kei.

You put the letter down and rummaged through the second crate, desperately trying to find the last letter that he wrote.

Hey birdie. Long time no see. Ha.

13 years and I still can’t forget about you. Doesn’t seem normal, does it?

I’m convinced that we’re soulmates, but then again, I may have convinced myself. You know…I used to hate the idea of soulmates. Sharing your life with another person, seen as incomplete without them?

Sharing my soul?

Bunch of crap, right? I like making my own decisions. Wasn’t ever much of a rule-stickler. But…you know…I’m starting to warm up to that idea.

But only with you.

And that’s why I’m convinced that we are, in fact, soulmates.

You don’t know how my heart breaks every time I see you. Manual is a good guy. I know he’s treating you well.

That’s the only reason I’m letting you stay married to him, really. If it was anyone else, I would’ve busted their ass.

But…you deserve someone like him. Someone who can give you their all.

Someone who, if you date them…they won’t lead you into danger.

Soulmates are a finicky concept, yeah?

So…I guess we’ll never know ‘till one of us dies.

Yours,

Kei.

Epilogue

Rainy winter days were the saddest days of the year.

Especially today.

Strolling through the park, you held a black umbrella in one hand and clutched a glass case tightly in the other.

You stopped in front of a marble headstone.

“Hey there,” your voice cracked.

“Miss me?”

A whistling wind, scattering powdered snow and frozen rain across the landscape, was your only answer.

“Kei, I–” You collapsed onto your knees, uncaring of whether or not the cold would seep in. It couldn’t get colder than your soul now, anyways.

“I…I didn’t go to your funeral.” Tears rolled down your cheeks, leaving a silvery sheen in their wake. “There were too many people and I…I couldn’t handle it.”

“But…Kei…” You choked out an ugly sob. “Why didn’t you send me the fucking letters?”

“I don’t care how dangerous your work was. You can’t get anywhere without taking risks in life, Kei!” You screamed at the marble façade, willing it to crumble.

“You can’t–”

“You can’t make my decisions for me!”

“I should be the one who gets to choose who I love!”

Your screams attracted the attention of several bystanders, who quickly averted their eyes and walked away when they saw your distraught state.

“You shouldn’t have tried to choose for me!”

“And now–”

“You’re dead, Kei! What am I supposed to do now?” Your tears pooled on the frozen ground, marking little dents in the snow.

You slammed your fists into the ground, the glass case in your hand cracking.

Another ugly sob made its way out.

“Kei–” you whimpered.

The glass shattered, splintering into thousands of tiny pieces, each fragment glittering like diamonds.

Slivers found their way into your palm.

Crimson blood, the color of the worn-out feather freed from its enclosure, splattered the snow-white ground.

“Kei,” you whispered, carefully placing the feather on top of the chiseled marble.

“Wherever you are, I hope you’re happy.”

Masterlist

[jaehyunspeachparty]

daddy jaehyun

iv.lxiii. (a)

Geon was on his back and looking at you. He babbled something and laughed. "Well what's so funny?" You bend over him and kiss the tip of his nose. He continued to giggle and looked at you with his big dark eyes. "Always laughing ..." You stroke his hair and smile at your son. "So this stinker is now clean again." Jaehyun came to you with Kiwoo in his arms after he changed his diapers. "Very good. Geon is in an extremely good mood again." You pick him up and put him on his legs. Slowly the twins were able to stand on their two legs, but they did not dare to take their steps yet. "If Geon is not in a good mood, the world will end." Jaehyun laughed and sat down next to you and sat Kiwoo on his lap, who was already busy with a toy and nibbled at it. "That's right, our happy boy." You kiss Geon's forehead and he giggled again. "How are you ... you two?", Jaehyun then asked you and looked at you worried. "All good." You smile and Geon reached out his arms to you so that you take him in your arms. "You are in the third trimester since today," said Jaehyun and you look at him in surprise. "How do you know?" "That's what the app tells me." He picked up his phone and showed you the pregnancy app he had installed. "Do you have an app?" "Don't you?" Jaehyun asked, shocked. "Well, I've been pregnant many times, I think I'm getting to know my way around." "But you know what that means?" Jaehyun looked at you and grinned, but you shake your head. "The risk of miscarriage is now much much lower." Jaehyun grinned broadly and was incredibly excited. But you didn't think of that at all. Sometimes this pregnancy scared you. "That's right ... I completely forgot about that ..." You stroke your stomach in a dazed manner. Sometimes you forget you are pregnant, especially since you have stopped feeling sick. You are so busy with your children that sometimes you don't fully notice the baby inside you. But you had Jaehyun who always reminded you of it. "When do we have the appointment where we can find out the gender?" Jaehyun was excited like a little pooch. "In two weeks, there is the next big check." You got a little more serious because it all seemed so fast to you. The twins will soon be 1 year old and you were already pregnant with the next child. But then you two suddenly hear sobs from Sunoh's room. He must have just woken up from his afternoon nap. "Mummyyyyyy ..." he called you and cried in between. "Mummy is outside, you just have to get out of the room," you said and had to laugh. You can see how slowly the door opened and with his little hands in the front, he went to you. "Mummmyyyy ..." He came to you immediately and leaned on your shoulder. "Did you have a nightmare?", Jaehyun asked and looked at his son with a laugh. Sunoh shook his head. His hair stood in all directions and his eyes were still very small because the light still blinded him. "Did you dream of Mummy?", Jaehyun asked further, but Sunoh shook his head. "Did you dream about Daddy?" Sunoh shook his head. "From Miga, Geon and Kiwoo?" Sunoh shook his head again. "What did you dream of then?", Jaehyun then asked and grinned. "Food," said Sunoh, grinning too. "Mmmm should we eat something?" Jaehyun's eyes widened and Sunoh's attention was entirely on him. "Yessss." He giggled and went to his father. That made you happy, because Sunoh was often very changeable to his father. But Jaehyun tried so hard and now it showed. Sunoh showed growing affection for Jaehyun more and more. "Maybe we should go out with the boys for a bit after lunch. We don't have to pick up Miga until the afternoon, so we can go to the playground beforehand." The weather was finally warm and nice and it would be a great opportunity to strengthen the relationship. "I don't know, I mean ..." Jaehyun was still unsure because you were threatened. "We can't hide forever, the children have to get out anyway." You didn't want to hide further, you wanted to experience something with the children. Especially on days when Jaehyun didn't have a job. "Hmm, yes you are right. Nothing has been done for weeks ..." Jaehyun was still unsure, but he agreed with you. The children had to go out and he couldn't lock anyone up here.

Matthew had two coffee mugs firmly in his hand and saw a black Mercedes parked in front of him. The door opened and he immediately recognized the woman inside. "Get in quickly," she hissed and Matthew took the passenger seat. The windows were darkened so no one could see them. Matthew gave her the coffee and then took a sip of his. "Minu, what do we do now?", He asked desperately and looks at the actress. "I don't know, something keeps the two of them very close to each other ..." Minu thought about it and took another sip of the coffee. "Maybe the kids?" Asked Matthew. "No, there has to be something that is more important. Jaehyun is now on set a lot shorter. He also got a day off, although he had an important day of filming that day. Something is wrong with that." Minu thought and thought. "I don't know, I think you're getting into something." Matthew shook his head, but Minu just laughed disapprovedly. "That's exactly what you say. How much do you want Y/N now? I thought she was meant for you?" "Just as important as Jaehyun is to you. That's why we work together," sniffed Matthew. "We should watch them," said Minu then. "I can't watch them. They suspect me all the time anyway. The police was even at my apartment!" Matthew shook his head and Minu nodded. "That's right. They have cameras in the house now, or?" She asked and Matthew nodded. "We have to get access to it somehow." Minu thought and thought. "I don't know, this is going to be tough. The security company they have been hiring is pretty good." "We'll find a way, I have another plan anyway." Minu grinned and put the coffee mug aside so she could drive off. "What really?" Matthew seemed quite surprised. "Yes, I found someone who had almost brought the two apart at one point. We can learn a lot from her." "Do I know the person?", Matthew asked mistakenly and Minu shook his head. "No." "And what's the name of the person?" He asked further. "Suji ..."

daddy jaehyun masterlist

[rein-ette]

If you still fancy a drabble prompt, I've always seen Canada and England having a very warm and comfortable relationship- if it interests you, maybe a prompt could be one going to the other for advice about something?

It does indeed interest me, thank you for the prompt! I've had a bunch of Mattie-Arthur scenarios swimming around in my mind for a long time, so I'm glad to have a chance to put one of them down on paper. As always, this was supposed to be a "drabble" but magically lengthened itself the more I thought about it -- I don't think drabbles are supposed to have historical notes.

"Come in."

Matthew shifted his pile of papers to his other arm and pushed through the door of Arthur's office. Inside, the fading afternoon light illuminated the rich mahogony floor and danced on the spines of the hundreds of books that lined each wall. Remembering the excitement he felt when he was first allowed to peruse these shelves, Matthew couldn't help but smile softly to himself.

Arthur himself sat at his desk, one ankle propped up on his knee as he stared idly out the window. Matthew could just barely see a white trim of bandages that peeked out from underneath his collar. That dimmed his smile. It had been more than two years now since the war had ended in Europe, but Arthur still looked as gaunt as he did during the days when engines still roared over London and — though Matthew had not thought it possible — even more exhausted. The worn smile Arthur offered him said as much, and Matthew pushed away a twinge of guilt.

Arthur jerked his chin at the seat in front of his desk and Matthew sat, stacking his documents in a neat pile in front of him. Instead of immediately going through them, however, he gazed worriedly at his old guardian.

"How are you feeling?"

Arthur sighed and shifted in his seat, dropping his leg and turning to face Matthew. He stared at the ancient, ink-stained wood of his desk for a while, and Matthew could almost see the warring emotions on Arthur's face as his desire to be honest fought with his lingering instinct to conceal and protect Matthew from the worries that plagued him. But because they were past such pretenses, he finally murmured, "Tired."

Matthew hummed sympathetically in response. There wasn't much he could do or say to change that, and he expected the reports he brought would only exhaust Arthur further. So he merely asked, "Are you remembering to apply the salve twice a day?"

Matthew flushed a little when Arthur rolled his eyes at him good-naturedly, realizing he was fussing like Arthur was his child, instead of the other way around. Thankfully, Arthur spared him further embarrasment by only answering a tad dryly that yes, he was actually capable of following simple instructions. Matthew mumbled out a reply before deciding that he might as well get on with what he was actually here for, knowing Arthur had never been one for small talk. Clearing his throat, he slid the top half of his stack of papers across the desk.

"They sent you a copy of Lord Mountbatten's plan, I think with annotations, though I haven't gone through the whole thing. And this part is the proposal for the national flag. Also," he pulled a cream letter from the pile and passed that over as well, "India asked that you be there personally, in August," he finished.

Arthur hummed and rifled through the papers. Matthew couldn't quite read his expression. After a few moments, he stacked them again and placed them to the side, with the letter on top. "Thanks. I'll go through them later."

Matthew nodded. "And here I just summarized the letters and stuff from the others. I've left them back in the box, in case you wanted to read them yourself. There's not too much going on really. That you don't already know."

"Yes. Thank you. This is a great help, Matthew, truly."

"You're welcome," Matthew murmured, and watched Arthur scan the notes before setting them aside as well. His eyes traced the shadows underneath the other nation's eyes, before dropping back down to the cotton bandages around his neck. He wondered if Arthur was sleeping at all.

"Is there anything else I can do? I'm heading back to Ottawa next week, but if you need me to take over some stuff for a bit, I can stay longer —"

"No, no, it's fine," Arthur cut him off. "Like I said, I'm just a little tired, that's all. But all this," he waved a hand at the documents , "isn't anything new."

Matthew frowned. "Isn't it?"

"Hmm?"

"I mean, I know the paperwork isn't new, but, these," he drew a breath, "reforms, and the war, of course. That's — I mean. No one's, you know, had to deal with that, before."

Arthur frowned, and traced a finger along the edge of his desk, before sighing, "No, I guess not." He turned again to look out the window behind him. After several long moments, he said, quietly, "But it's not entirely unexpected, either. I just—" The corner of his lips jerked down, and for a moment it seemed as if he was almost in pain. He drew in a breath, and said, "It's just. Difficult. That's all. To—but." He stopped again, grimaced, as if at his own ineloquence. Finally, he said, slowly, as carefully as if he was embroidering the words onto the air between them, "The world is changing. Let us not stand in the way, lest they make us out to be fools."

Watching him struggle, Matthew found himself at a loss as well. Never had he imagined that Arthur — sharp-tongued, quick-witted Arthur, who could neither be bullied nor silenced, who could quote from more books than Matthew had ever read — would be scrambling for words. But then, as he watched Arthur's shoulders curve in towards himself like Matthew had seen a thousand times before in another stubborn, sandy-haired nation who also seemed to have endless words but never quite the right ones, he knew what he needed to do.

Smiling again, Matthew stood, drawing on Arthur's arm so he would turn to face him and said, "I think you need a hug."

Unnecessarily Long Notes are Unnecessarily Long

I didn't state the specific setting of this scene, but the timing of the historical events mentioned means it has to have been sometime between June and August of 1947. Despite the fact that Mattie says "not much is going on", my lord, a lot was going on in 1947; hence why Artie is doing his best impression of the walking dead. Besides the Indian and Pakistan independence movement, officially achieved in August 1947 which is alluded to (Mountbatten, or 3 June Plan, was the precursor to the Indian Independence Act of 1947), Europe was also going through complete social upheaval. To mention just a couple highlights: Germany was in such ruin it was said to have returned to the Roman ages, Britain was rationing harder than ever despite the war having ended, and of course Mr. Truman and Mr. Stalin were gearing up for the Great Showdown. A quote I like which captures the feeling of the time is from H.G. Wells: "[where] other civilizations rolled and crumbled down, the European civilization was, as it were, blown up." [quoted by Tony Judt, Postwar]. Also directly concerning Arthur was the issue of Palestine, which as we all know was and is contentious, to say the very least.

Arthur's attitude to decolonisation is...complicated. Clearly I went with a softer view here, but certainly not all (or even many) British held the view in 1947 that the Empire should be decolonized at all. Hence Arthur during this time was probably a raging hypocrite and, if he wasn't already, at least 50% psychologically unstable. However, I allowed Arthur a little dignity here, in part because he's 2000 years old and as such should have a tiny more perspective than us humans, and also because the weakness of the Empire was much more evident to those in government and the army. Even if it wasn't popular opinion yet, anyone with half a braincell could see that every day Britian didn't decolonize was costing them more than they could afford. Additionally, Britain did decolonise much, much faster than all the other powers and in a relatively peaceful and orderly manner, though what ensued in the countries they left behind was neither. I should also add that Matthew is not the most objective of narrators either -- Canada, despite being a former colony, was still strongly Anglophilic, especially right after WWII. Still, I hope ya'll won't begrudge Arthur a hug.

[jouretnuit-nightandday]

Leatin fluff prompt! It’s their one month anniversary as a couple and Fatin is stressing out because she’s never celebrated an anniversary before (worried she’s planning too much and too little at the same time!) and Leah is both amused and concerned for her gfs wellbeing

Thanks Anon, that was such a cute prompt!

Under the cut, because it got a bit long.

“Can I come in now?”

“No!” Fatin yells through the closed door. “It’s not ready yet!”

Leah hears some subsequent banging of utensils, and a few muttered curses, and resists the temptation to barge in and save Fatin from whatever disaster she’s brought onto herself. Instead, she sits up from the couch, and makes her way to the door. Fatin has spent the whole afternoon locked inside the kitchen, barring Leah from entering. “I’m making something special for dinner,” she explained, before kissing Leah on the nose, and disappearing to start on her elaborate plans.

Leah, who has some experience with Fatin’s attempts at cooking, nevertheless chose to stay out of it. She can tell Fatin has been stressed about their anniversary - the entire week leading up to it, she’s been tense, and uncharacteristically quiet. And it’s kinda cute, that Fatin wants so badly to make this a special day. They’ve only been dating for a month, but they’ve known each other for a long time now, so Leah is well aware of multiple facts: that Fatin never had a serious relationship before, and certainly not one where they celebrate anniversaries ; that Fatin feels like she’s not romantic enough for Leah, that she’s not as good at big gestures, or dramatic declarations of love, and that she’s subsequently a bit self-conscious about it ; that Fatin’s usual way of expressing her feelings for Leah comes through physical affection, or gifts, whereas Leah is the kind of person who does things for Fatin, things like cooking dinner, or accompanying Fatin to the dentist, or planning a surprise birthday party, or remembering to buy those chips Fatin likes ; and, finally, that Fatin loves her, has loved her for a long time, and is desperate for Leah to know it. 

(Leah knows it, is the thing, but she understands Fatin’s need to show her, again and again, because she feels the same way.)

So Leah lets Fatin barricade herself in the kitchen and do what she has planned. But it’s been four hours, now, and Fatin’s voice has gotten more and more frantic - at one point Leah even saw smoke escaping from under the door - and Leah’s grown a tad concerned for her girlfriend. 

“Hey,” Leah calls, softly, with her face very close to the door. “Come here.”

She hears some movement on the other side. “What?” Fatin answers, behind the door.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, everything’s great, why do you ask?”

“Fatin,” Leah says, pointedly, but still softly. “Just tell me. I’m worried about you.”

There’s a pause, and then the door opens just a little bit, enough for Leah to see Fatin’s face, peeking through the gap. There’s a smattering of flour on one of her cheeks, and a dollop of what looks like blood at first on the left side of her forehead, though Leah realizes quickly it must be tomato sauce. Fatin’s brown eyes are narrowed, and her mouth curves down in a frown. “I don’t know why you think I can’t handle cooking on my own,” she grumbles, glaring at Leah. The glare would be effective, were it not for the presence of so much raw ingredients on her face. 

As it stands, it’s just very cute. Leah feels a smile pulling at her lips. “Oh baby,” she says, and she reaches out to swipe her knuckles against Fatin’s cheek, wiping off the flour. “Are you making pizza because it’s my favorite?”

“Maybe.”

“That is so nice. But, please, let me help?”

Fatin pouts. “But I wanted to do this for you! I want to be the kind of girlfriend who can, like, cook a surprise dinner for you and make you happy and --”

“Fatin,” Leah interrupts. She’s still touching Fatin’s cheek, rubbing the soft skin underneath her eye. “You make me so happy. Nobody has ever made me as happy as you.” Fatin swallows, and licks her lips.

“Really? “ she asks, in a small voice.

“Really,” Leah confirms, and her heart may be a supernova, exploding in her chest. “I don’t care about the surprise anniversary dinner. I love you.”

“Will you love me even though dinner is like, super ruined, and I may or may not have set a small fire in the kitchen?” Fatin says, with a raised eyebrow.

“Hmm,” Leah ponders, pretending to think. “How small a fire are we talking?”

Fatin snorts, and turns her face slightly so she can kiss the inside of Leah’s wrist, and then, finally, she opens the door fully. The first thing Leah notices is Fatin’s outfit. She chuckles. “Wow, I’ve never seen you wear an apron before. You look so professional.”

Fatin shrugs. “Honestly, I think it looks better on you.” Then she smirks, a bit dangerous. “Especially when you wear nothing else but the apron…” 

Leah feels the telltale heat of a blush spreading across her cheeks. “Didn’t we agree not to talk about that?” she whines. 

Fatin’s smirk widens, her eyes gleaming mischievously. “I mean, we don’t need to talk about it, I don’t think I’ll ever forget the visual. Burned into my memory forever.”

“Fatin!” Leah protests, giving her a little shove, but she can’t help smiling. “I thought we were embarrassing you right now, not me.”

“Right,” Fatin says, before she steps aside from the doorway. “Okay, behold my wasted efforts.”

In the end, they make it work. The pizza is shaped a bit weird, and the tomato sauce is too runny, but it tastes just fine. In fact, it tastes better because they made it together, Leah thinks, and when she tells Fatin this, Fatin scoffs, and calls her a sap, but she also snuggles closer to her on the couch, so Leah doesn’t think she minds it all that much. The cake Fatin tried to bake, on the other end, is definitely unsalvageable, burnt to a crisp, so they throw the whole thing away, and go out for ice-cream. 

Fatin insists on paying. “I’m a gentlewoman,” she tells Leah, as they walk home, hand-in-hand, savoring their ice-cream.

“Says the girl who slept with me on our first date,” Leah retorts, drily. 

Fatin waves her hand. “Actually, the first time we had sex was at that party we went to, and we weren’t dating yet, so it doesn’t count.”

“Doesn’t it make it worse?” Leah says, laughing as she finishes her ice-cream.

“Whatever. What counts is that I’m treating you well now that we’re actually in a relationship.” Fatin pauses, and tugs Leah’s hand, forcing her to stop right as they approach the door of their apartment building. “I am, right? Treating you well.”

Leah cocks her head. “Of course, you are.”

“Because I want to. I want to be good to you. I love you.”

“I want to be good to you, too,” Leah says, a little choked up. Fatin tucks an errand strand of hair behind Leah’s ear, gently, and brushes her face with tender fingers. For a brief moment, they stay still, and quiet, looking at each other. And then Leah grins. “Come on, let’s get inside. Now, it’s time for my surprise.”

“Does it involve an apron?”

“You’ll see,” Leah says, teasingly, and laughs when Fatin presses cold lips against her neck, and slips colder hands under her shirt.

[lanuvolanera]

Sept 19th - Cofession

Chapter 1

My first ever fanfic, lads, be nice and enjoy.

---------

Coming out of Casper High mid afternoon, Danny and Tucker made their way down the school steps. Students trickled out the front doors in small groups and split their own ways as the duo began their trek to Fenton works.

"Man, I'm glad Sam didn't come today." Danny said, grasping his backpack strap slung over his shoulder.

"I know, right? She would've been miserable." Tucker replied, pocketing his PDA with a light frown on his face.

The day went well. Steady, in fact. They seemed to have kept off of Dash's radar and stayed on Mr Lancer's good side with the English assignment. Not to mention that it was pizza day at the cafeteria, the only good thing that the cooks knew how to make. Yeah, today wasn't so bad, it just felt empty without Sam by their side.

"She should be feeling better by tomorrow, right?"

"Honestly, I think she'll take the rest of the week off. If it wasn't for that ghost..."

"Oh god, don't remind me, I still feel awful." Danny said with a look of mild horror, still traumatised from the night before.

A pause in their conversation prompted more memories from last night.

Phantom, two feet above the ground, felt paralysed as he looked on and watched as Tucker ducked undercover from the ectoblasts firing in all directions from what looked like a regular bedsheet type ghost, only this one was different, this one screeched and wailed and gnawed it's black teeth, blood dripping from its mouth, staining its torso.

"We'll give her a call tonight, see how she's doing." Tucker said, dragging Danny out of his thoughts.

"Or we could head over, see how she's doing in person?"

"Or we could leave her be and let her rest."

Danny didn't like that idea, he was worried and felt guilty and ashamed that he couldn't prevent her injury. As minor as it was, she couldn't find the strength to come to school the next day, when he'd hoped to apologise again and ask how she's doing again and to offer her anything she needs again. He made his mind up right then.

"I'll fly over tonight then, when everyone's gone to bed."

"Sure, don't forget to bring her homework and tell her you love her."

"What?" Danny gasped in shock, a deep red blush covering his cheeks.

"Nothing." Tucker looked away with a sheepish grin and quickly changed the topic.

"We still need to do some research about last night's ghost, I've downloaded some pdf's which I'll send to you and Sam to see if there are other ways to dispell it if the thermos didn't work."

They turn the corner and can see the large Fenton works sign in the distance, two blocks away.

"Race you." Danny smirked, and sprinted off before Tucker had a chance to realise what was happening.

With a loud "hey!" from Tucker in the background, Danny slowed as he neared the steps to his front door and tried the handle, locked. Hmm, his parents are out, Jazz would still be at school studying in the library, looks like he and Tucker have the house to themselves. Danny pulls out his keys and unlocks the door just as Tucker catches up out of breath.

"That's cheating, you had a head start." He pants.

"Come on, the computer in the lab is free, go down and fire it up while I get some coffee brewing."

"Sounds like a plan."

-------------‐-------------------------------------------------

Later that night, Danny flew Tucker back to his house.

They soared through the night sky, clear and full of stars, street lamps illuminating the buildings below them, his best friends arm slung over phantoms shoulders.

"Look, all I'm saying is if we go back tomorrow, what if we make things worse, pissed it off even more. If its trapped there like we think, what harm will it do if we leave it alone?"

"It's different though, what if when we found it there, we let it loose?"

"If we did then don't you think we would've seen it again by now?"

"I don't want to chance it, we need to find a way to deal with it permanently."

"Don't tell me you're going back there by yourself."

"No, I'm going to Sam's, like I said."

"You'd better."

-------------------------------------------------------------

Once he'd said his goodbyes to Tucker, and reassured him he wasn't going to do something wreckless, Danny took off into the air once more and set course for Sam's House.

With a backpack full with his thermos, his laptop, his phone, both his and Sam's maths homework, a couple of pens, pencils, markers and 2 cans of Sam's favorite soda, Danny sped across the rooftops when a blue puff of cold air burst it's way past his lips.

"Of course, I thought it was too quiet tonight."

Taking a quick glance of his surroundings, there was nothing to be seen in the empty streets. A brief pause, his breath held in his lungs, then glass crashing from a shop window a few blocks down caught Danny's attention.

Cackling laughter and bursts of light flashed from the window, Danny wasted no time reaching the building, turning himself intangible and flew through the ceiling.

"Oh, come on! What the hell are you doing here? In a pet store of all places?"

....

----------------------------------------------------------------

Danny finally arrived at his destination. Peaking through the window to find Sam laying on her bed, light from her laptop illuminating her face, in her black pyjamas and a cast on her leg.

He knocked on the glass, and smiled as Sam startled.

Waving him in, he floated through the glass and landed with a soft thump on the plush carpet, and settled on the edge of her bed.

"Hey, how're you feeling?" Danny said with concern in his voice.

"Fine. Hey, you need to sign my cast." Sam says with a playful smirk. Danny half expected her to be more upset about being injured, or at least, as upset as he is.

After the escape from the warehouse the night before, with Sam cradled in his arms and Tucker following not too far behind, all Danny could think was this was all his fault. Sam got injured because of him, because he was too late, too late to swoop in and protect her from the falling scaffolding from the ghost fight, that cost her her ability to run to safety. He's the hero, isn't he? And he couldn't save her from something as simple as falling debris? What kind of hero-

"Danny-"

Sam could see the distraught look on Danny's face and he caught himself looking down at her cast. It could've been a lot worse, but still.

Danny looks up at her, he needs to confess.

"I'm sorry, Sam, I'm sorry you got hurt, I should've been more careful-"

"Hey, don't worry about it, these things happen, right? It could've been a lot worse."

"I know, I keep telling myself that, but still-"

"But still, we need to figure out a way to get rid of that ghost, I've been doing some research on this specific type of ghost and I've read through the files Tucker sent me, and I think I have a good idea on what we're working with."

Sam brings the laptop closer and turns it around for Danny to see pages upon the screen filled with information from different historic and religious sites.

"Does it say anything about why the thermos didn't work?" He asked playfully. Of course, the Fenton thermos only being a recent invention, there wouldn't be any information that hasn't been put online by the Fentons themselves indicating its presence in the ghost hunting community across the globe. Sure, there have been other containment methods but for this particular ghost, the best method would be to remove it from this plane entirely instead of just bottling it up.

Other pages on the screen suggest cleansing treatments of the haunted area using a mixture of herbs, minerals and rituals, witchcraft. If that could work, maybe the Fentons have other means of ghost study to pursue, if they believed in that sort of thing, of course.

"Hoestly, this stuff is giving me a headache, I need a break."

"Good thing I have just what you need." Danny says, reaching for his backpack.

He pulls out his own laptop, the 2 cans of soda and their homework, which Sam gives a mild look of disgust.

"Great."

"You don't look at all enthused." Danny says with a cheeky smile, and pops open his can, passing the other one over to Sam who takes it gratefully.

A small awkward pause later and Sam has to snap Danny back to reality again.

"Look, I know you think this is your fault, so here's my obligatory I'm-not-a-damsel-in-distress talk, we're a team, we'll sort this out, and we can forget about it."

"It's not just that, I don't know, it's just that- I don't think I'll be able to forget about it. There's something about this ghost, it's terrifying." Danny says, setting his can aside.

"I know, ugly too." Sam smiles as Danny looks up, he remembers what Tucker said to him earlier.

Tell her you love her.

"I don't think I'd be able to live with myself if something happened to you, I couldn't imagine my life without you."

At this, Sam sits up and puts her can on her bedside table. They're face to face with each other now.

"I couldn't imagine my life without you either, and you're right, that ghost is terrifying, even more of a reason to fight it."

Tell her.

"This ghost fight seems to be putting things into perspective."

You love her.

"I know what you mean."

They don't know when they got closer, or when they started leaning in.

Danny lightly brushes his fingers across her cheek, tilting her head just so, and presses his lips to hers.

It's a little awkward at first, spending a few seconds in that position. Then someone, or maybe both, adjust their lips, and oh.

Oh wow.

The sensation is amazing, sparks running down their spines and they readjust again, and again.

Their arms begin to wrap around each other and oh god, they're actually making out, kissing. They don't even realise they've fallen onto their sides on the bed, eyes squeezed shut applying and reapplying firm presses of their lips together.

They stay that way for a few moments, or is it lifetimes, when a tune came from the bedside table.

They pull apart, dazed red faces inches from each other, before Sam sits up and grabs her phone.

"It's Tucker."

She answers.

"Hey, Sam, I know you're busy recovering and all and I know it's late but I think I have a lead."

"That's great, what've you got?"

"I've found a review online about a book at the town hall library, if we can get it checked out tomorrow we might be able to find a way to exorcise this ghost."

Sam and Danny look at each other with hope.

"What's the title?"

"Ghost hunting for dummies."

"Be serious."

"I'll make you laugh one day, I swear."

"Tucker."

"It's called 'witchcraft untold', there are only 2 copies in town, the other is at the 'Skulk and Lurke'. The review made it sound like a work of fiction, and maybe it is, who knows? But I think it's worth checking out."

Sam makes a mental note of the title. There are a few books she's planning on checking out, some including cultural and religious beliefs on the undead, magic and pagan rituals, and scientific findings surrounding ghosts. If this book Tucker mentioned is as promising as it sounds, things could be looking up.

"I've been meaning to go to the 'Skulk and Lurke' tomorrow anyway, so I'll keep an eye out for it."

"Thats great, we'll talk more later, get some rest."

" I will do, see you later, Tuck."

"See you, and say hi to Danny for me!"

Click.

They glance at each other, and Danny moves to stand up.

"I should get going, um..."

"Yeah, you're gonna need some rest too if we're gonna face this ghost tomorrow night."

"We?"

"Yeah?"

"No."

"What?"

Danny couldn't believe he had to say this.

"Sam, you're injured, there's no way I'm letting you come along..."

"You're not 'letting' me do anything, I'm going. We still need to figure out a plan before then anyway, when I get a chance to check out that book."

The air surrounding them starts to tense.

"How am I supposed to fight this ghost and protect you at the same time? Or have you already forgotten about last night?"

"Excuse me? Have you forgotten what I said only ten minutes ago? I'm not letting you go off and play hero all by yourself!"

"That is not-"

"Save it. I can take care of myself."

"Fine, I'll call you in the morning."

"Fine."

And with that, Danny turns towards the window and lifts off, phases through, and rises into the night sky.

[cablesscutie]

34. “I just want to be there for you.” Zutara, For the fluff prompt list please ☺️

Hello!! You sent me this a very long time ago and then my brain was bad and ground to a screeching halt, but I have been thinking about it this whole time! And now my brain has finally allowed me to make words again these past few weeks, so here it is:

PART 1 \\ PART 2

Even after seeing pictures of Zuko convinces Katara to tentatively agree to Ty Lee’s hairbrained scheme, she still tells herself that she has time to bail. If she really decides that she doesn’t need a date after all, she can just cancel on him and tell Aang her date had food poisoning or something. If worst comes to worst, she can claim that she has food poisoning too and escape the entire mortifying ordeal altogether. Zuko is just an option.

This is the constant refrain in her mind week after week as the date of the wedding approaches, and Katara gets somehow less enthusiastic about it with each passing day. She thinks it as she lets Suki shove her into a fitting room, laden with figure-hugging dresses. She thinks it as she scrolls quickly past Instagram posts counting down the days, politely liking them faster than she can process the sight of fairy lights and mason jars. She thinks it as she impulsively adds a leg waxing to her bi-monthly spa day with Toph. Zuko is just an option.

Just an option with arms that look like they would feel strong and secure around her, and a shy smile, and who’s sweet and playful with kids. Katara lets out a long, frustrated groan and presses her forehead to her desk, rolling it back and forth in a futile attempt to rub out the impending headache of a Friday afternoon. A moment later, she hears the telltale rattle of Suki’s office chair, and then her friend is rolling to a stop beside her.

“You good?” she asks, brushing aside Katara’s hair so she can see her face.

“No,” she sighs, annoyed.

“Is it the rehearsal dinner? Because if you don’t want to go, I can just say you got held late at work.”

“No, no. That’ll be...fine, probably. It’s this whole wedding date thing.”

“Oh do not tell me you’re still being all wishy-washy about it.”

“It just feels like a weird thing to do! I’m just going to show up at my ex’s wedding with this random dude? How will that look?”

“Um, probably like you’ve moved on? Which you have. Objectively. You even had a whole other relationship.”

“Really? Because I think it’ll look like I’m jealous and trying not to be.”

Suki fixes her with disbelieving eyebrows and a laugh. “Trust me, babe. Nobody is going to think that you’re the one that left that relationship pining. You were basically his mom. If this was Jet’s wedding...eh, maybe? But you tend to settle.”

Katara isn’t quite sure if Suki is trying to insult her or compliment her with that statement, and she isn’t sure if her kneejerk, “Hey!” is out of a desire to defend her judgement, or her past partners’ character. Regardless, she doesn’t have much after that to refute the point. Aang seems like a functional enough adult now, a few years out of college, but when they had dated, the “teen” in his nineteen years definitely showed. As for Jet, her much more recent cut, he was...vibing.

“Hon, you’re gonna be fine. I’ve heard Ty Lee and Mai talk about Zuko before, and he sounds like a decent guy. At worst, you have a meh date and escape some social awkwardness, but-” the upward tilt of Suki’s voice had Katara on edge, knowing what was coming next.

“Please, no -”

“- it could be good.”

“No, it can’t be.”

“Ty Lee seems really confident about you two, and you know she’s got a creepy good love radar. After all, she’s the one who convinced me not to block your brother when he slid into my DM’s. Even you told me to block him.”

“She does not have love radar. I love her, but the girl is an unstoppable meddler; she was bound to have a hit once,” Katara dismisses. It’s true that Sokka and Suki are adorable now, and perhaps evidence of the existence of soulmates, but Katara maintains that Ty Lee is a hopeless romantic who believes anything could be the start of an epic love story.

“Fine, be a cynic then. But you’ve already acknowledged that he’s hot, so just go to the wedding with him, and maybe finally rebound from Jet.”

“Hmm,” Katara hums noncommittally.

She’s something of a serial monogamist. She’d left her first real relationship with Aang intending on a summer fling to cleanse her palate before going back for her senior year. After a whirlwind month with the mature and worldly Jiang, she’d been looking into online classes, all but ready to move onto her houseboat and sail away into the sunset. Until Suki pointed out that it was an insane plan, and the ultimately parted ways as planned when Jiang set out to sea again. From there, she had fallen in with Jet as a friend with benefits to blow off steam through her last year without leaving herself open to distraction.

He wasn’t the kind of stable presence she could see herself settling down with, but wasn’t looking to be babied either. No, Jet was more of a feral creature. He knew he was dysfunctional and was fine with it, because function was the system and the system was bogus. Then, she got to know him, and realized that he kept people at a distance for much the same reason she was always pulling them too close. Suddenly, she had grand dreams of showing him the healing power of love, and both of them breaking free of their pain, never needing to fear being alone ever again. He cheated on her, and even as she was shouting at him, she’d known deep down that they had both just repeated their same bad habits all over again.

Now, there is Zuko. Zuko, with tragedy in his scarred eye, and sadness in his smile, but gentle hands on little legs resting on his shoulders. Katara thinks she could make many bad habits out of Zuko, and she is not too proud to admit that it terrifies her. Her stomach turns, and she thinks it might not even be a lie by the time she tells Zuko she’s suddenly too sick to attend the wedding.

The nausea gets worse at the rehearsal dinner, when she walks in to find Jet there, grinning at a bridesmaid. Suki hauls her over to Aang to give him a dressing-down for inviting him, and Katara is somehow reminded in the span of five minutes why she is extremely glad to be rid of both of them.

“I didn’t think it would be a problem!” Aang says, his usual defense. “And he is my friend - we go rock climbing together.”

“Small world,” Suki snarls, and Aang goes wide-eyed, leaning around her to look beseechingly at Katara.

“I swear, I didn’t think you were avoiding each other! After all, we’re exes, and it’s my wedding, but that’s not weird. So I figured you wouldn’t have a problem being in the same room as your other ex.”

Katara grits her teeth behind glossy lips that she forces into a smile, and despite Suki’s murder eyes and the voice in her head telling her not to - to swallow her embarrassment and tell the truth - she finds herself falling back on those old bad habits. “It’s okay, Aang. You had good intentions. We can be adults for one day.”

“Thank you so much Katara,” Aang gushes, lunging forward to wrap her in a hug that pins her arms briefly to her sides. “You’re the best!”

Suki shakes her head in disappointment as he bounds away. “You made your bed,” she reminds Katara. “Guess now you have to decide who to lie in it with.” She glides away to join Sokka at the bar, leaving Katara standing dazed and confused.

“Katara, hey,” an all too familiar voice greets her almost immediately after, and Katara closes her eyes. Suki totally hung her out to dry, and she can’t even be that mad because she’s right.

“Jet,” she says evenly, turning to face him. This shouldn’t be hard for her. While she doesn’t forgive him, she’s also very over him and understands that she’s an idiot for not making Aang ask him to leave. “How are you?”

“Not bad, not bad,” he says, bobbing his head. His clothes are formal but rumpled by disdain for their formality, an effect which once had a liquifying effect on Katara’s insides, but now just feels rude. “I was actually coming over to ask you the same thing,” he says, as though it is a profound inquiry and not the root of all small talk. She opens her mouth to offer a brusque reply and make an excuse to join Sokka and Suki at their table, but he knocks the wind out of her sails with his next words. “Ex’s wedding and all. Brutal.” He gives her a look that she is all to familiar with: his I-see-your-pain look. It was another thing about him that used to push all the right buttons on her, but now she just feels insulted at the presumption that she needs or wants his pity.

“Aang is actually a very dear friend,” she says, trying to sound as impenetrably chipper as possible. “Like a little brother.”

Jet is not deterred, leaning closer to her, his hand just brushing her elbow. “I feel bad about how things ended between us,” he says softly. “I should’ve done better by you.” Katara is momentarily stunned. Is she actually getting a sincere apology? “Which is why I think we should go to the wedding together. I just want to be there for you.”

It’s like a bucket of cold water down her spine, dousing both the fire of her anger and the tiny kindling warmth in her stomach. Katara pulls her shoulders back, straightening her spine, and snaps, “I already have someone to be there for me.”

Jet blinks and rears back a little. “Alright. I’ll, uh. Be looking forward to meeting them then.”

As he slinks away, she feels a moment of deep satisfaction. Only to nearly aspirate her sip of wine as she realizes she has officially painted herself into a corner. Zuko is coming to this wedding.

Thank you! If anyone wants to send me a line or prompt (from this list or your brain) I'll keep it going!

[meltwonu]

s n a k e     |     e y e s     [chapter 3]

pairing; snakehybrid!woozi x female!reader

this chapter’s notes; 🥺💕thank you for all the interest in snake eyes!! I can't believe it!! y’all don’t know how happy that makes me because I love this au!! 💕💕💕 in this chapter: jihoonie makes a small oopsies 🥴oral(female receiving), minor switch!woozi, hehehe... im sorry, im mean and u will know why 😭😭💕 also this chapter is long, strap in for the long ass ride!! yeehaw

chapters; 1 - 2 - 3 - x - x - x - x

It takes a week and a half for you and Jihoon to really fall into a rhythm that suits his and your needs.

Jihoon is still shy around you, only spending an hour or two with you while you work until he feels too awkward again, slinking away back into his room. You wonder, periodically, if he happened to hear what you were doing in your bedroom the night he came to stay with you and if that was the reason he’d been so shy and quiet around you. But you quickly shake the thoughts out of your head, preferring to believe that he hadn’t, for your sake and his. Jihoon had never mentioned anything to you anyway, so you had no reason to believe he’d heard anything.

But it’s a rainy Sunday afternoon that has you bundled up in an oversized sweater on the living room sofa, laptop haphazardly on a side table while you take a break from writing. A movie plays quietly on the tv in front of you, but you don’t really pay attention to it. Jihoon emerges from his room, covered up in a big sweater and his sweats as he takes a seat on the opposite end of the sofa.

“It’s… r-really cold today…” His voice is soft, almost a whisper, as he pulls his legs up onto the sofa, crossing them as he tries to cover his skin. “I… kinda had a h-hard time sleeping.”

“Did you need more heaters? The forecast said it’s supposed to rain for the next couple days, Jihoon…” You trail off, already sliding off of the sofa as you fetch a blanket for the cold male. “I can go pick you up another one tomorrow, if you’d like?” Draping the soft blanket over him, he thanks you, snuggling into the soft material. “If it’s okay… I don’t want you to go out of your way if it’s too much.” You chuckle, settling into your spot on the sofa again as you pick up your laptop to get a bit of work done.

“Nonsense, I want you to be comfortable here.”

Jihoon’s stomach grumbles 45 minutes later as he sinks deeper into the plush blanket, hiding the flush that covers his cheeks. You laugh slightly, already hopping off to make him and yourself a snack to eat.

“You’re more than welcome to rummage the kitchen whenever you want, y’kno. Or if you want me to make you something to eat, you can always ask.”

“Sorry I’m just… still getting used to it. You’re definitely nicer than my past owners.” You hum, curious about how his previous owners treated him for him to be this shy, or if he was just naturally always this timid. “It’s okay! Take your time. I know it’s weird but I’m… I’m still getting used to it too.” You feel your body heating up, suddenly reminded of a questionable dream you’d had the previous night; the cute snake hybrid invading even your mind when you slept recently. God I really need to get laid somehow, you think, maybe that cute barista from down the street would be interested? I think his name was Jun. Reminder to self to get his number next time.

You grab a pan, setting it onto the stove as you gather ingredients to make ddeokbokki; something that Jihoon really loved to snack on. “Hey, Jihoon? Did you wanna help me make this? I can teach you a bit!” 

There’s a shuffling from the living room before the blonde haired male steps into the kitchen, a curious look on his face.

“I’ve never cooked before though…”

“It’ s okay! I can teach you. Just so that.. Um, just in case I’m not home or something and you get hungry?” He nods, stepping closer towards you as you set various ingredients onto the counter top. “Okay, I’ll just... Watch you.” You smile at him, urging him to come closer as you begin explaining what to do. But Jihoon’s mind fixates on something else, your voice getting drowned out when he feels the warmth radiating off of your body when he steps closer. Unbeknownst to you, Jihoon decides to stand almost directly behind you as you continue to explain how to cook to him.

When his hands start to slide up the hem of your sweater, you pause, setting the measuring cup back onto the counter top where it was before. Jihoon’s cold fingertips begin traveling up your sides, delicately caressing your skin under your sweater. Your breath is caught in your throat when he then leans his head over your shoulder, his tongue softly lapping at the exposed skin of your neck. A moan catches in your throat when you realize your body’s already rapidly heating up at his touch, the snake hybrid behind you also letting out a tiny moan of his own when he realizes how warm you’ve gotten.

But you snap back to reality, panic taking over when you let out a garbled noise, pushing back against Jihoon.

“Oh my g-god, wait--wh--”

Jihoon panics, pupils shaking as he pulls away completely, pressing himself into the fridge for a second before immediately bolting out of the kitchen without a word; only a door slam in the distance letting you know where he is.

A couple hours pass, the rain still pattering against the window as the moon rises beyond the clouds.

The ddeokbokki from earlier went unmade; ingredients going back to their original places as you decided to retreat to your own bedroom to catch your breath and cool yourself down. You really hadn’t hated what happened earlier, but it was quite the shock, and you could only imagine what Jihoon was feeling as well. But you set those feelings aside, making your way down the hallway to his bedroom to ask him about dinner. Fuck, he must be starving. He didn’t even eat earlier, you think.

You knock on his door, a muffled “yes?” coming from the other side.

“Jihoon did you want to eat dinner with me or will you eat later?”

“Uhm, hmm, I’m…um, I’ll.. I’ll eat with y-you.”

You set up the dinner table, setting Jihoon’s food across from you. You were glad that he just ate normal human food as it made it easier for you to take care of him; unsure if you could sit and watch him eat what snakes normally did. Hearing a door click, you break out of your thoughts, seeing him walk towards the dining table with a blush on his face.

“I… um…”

“Yes Jihoon?”

“I just… about earlier, I wanted to apologize. I shouldn’t have… um, stuck my hands in y-your shirt like that…”

The memory alone has you blushing, his delicate and cold fingertips brushing against your ribcage had a tingle traveling up your spine and down to your fingertips. You hadn’t hated it; just the shock from his touches had you initially recoiling, sending Jihoon running straight for his bedroom where he had holed up for hours.

“I… It was okay. I, um, didn’t hate it actually…”

“O-oh, uh, so… um, is it okay? If… If I do that sometimes? It’s… you feel nicer than, um, the h-heaters in my room so…”

“Y-yeah, I mean… y-yes, that would be… okay.” Shock momentarily flits over his features before a genuine smile etches onto his face. “Okay… U-um I mean, it---it won’t---I won’t, y’know, stick my hands in your shirt but maybe like---like we can, um, cuddle? Sometimes?” You almost choke on your food at his suggestion, suddenly too shy to make eye contact with him at how innocent it all sounded.

“Yeah that… that would be fine!”

The two of you have normal dinner conversations, you asking him about songs he’s been working on while he asks you about work. You remind him that you’ll pick up a new heater in the morning and begin clearing the table with his help.

When the dishes are cleared, you bid Jihoon a good night; thankful that the snake hybrid wasn’t too awkward after everything that had happened earlier in the day. He calls your name as you turn away from your doorway to face him again.

“Yes, Jihoon?”

“Um, I was wondering… If it’d be okay if I slept in your room? It’s just… Uh, it’s cold and raining and... yeah.”  

You contemplate it for a second, wondering if that was really the best idea, all things considered. But you mentally shrug, thinking, it’s just sleep.

“Sure, why not. Why don’t you get ready for bed and just… come in when you’re ready?” He nods, thanking you before he slinks down the hallway to his bedroom to change. The entire thing feels a little questionable, but you shrug it off, getting ready for bed before Jihoon shows up.

Admittedly, you normally would sleep in a big shirt and panties since you slept alone. But since Jihoon would be joining you this time, you slip on a sweater and some pajama pants, opting to be completely covered in order to prevent any potential mishaps. You could only pray your dreams were normal.

There’s a knock on the door when you slide under the bed sheets, adjusting your pillows before you reply.

“Come in!”

Jihoon opens the door, shutting it behind him as he stands in front of it awkwardly. Much like yourself, he stands there in an oversized sweater and pajama pants, hands digging into the material of his sweater as he takes in the features of your bedroom. When his eyes finally land on you already under the sheets, you pat the side of the bed that’s empty, inviting him in.

“C’mon let’s sleep. I still need to go out tomorrow morning to get your things.”

The extra heater is forgotten the next morning when you wake up in his iron grip.

It’s not uncomfortable, but he’s only got one arm wrapped around your waist and you find it almost virtually impossible to escape his hold as he snores softly into your neck. So you lay there, listening to the pitter-patter of the non-stop rain and his soft breaths, thankful that the two of you had fallen asleep without a hitch and that your dreams were normal.

Jihoon had quietly slid into the large bed with you, muttering a ‘good night’ before your radiating warmth under the sheets had lulled him to sleep.

You don’t know how much time passes as you lay there, but eventually Jihoon decides to wake up, a yawn and a simple ‘good morning’ muffled into your skin before he pulls away, turning to face the opposite side. You sit up, rubbing your tired eyes as you check the clock. 11:09am.

“Did you want breakfast?”

You never buy the heater; Jihoon happily moving some of his personal items to your bedroom after that late morning breakfast. And you didn’t mind, as long as the snake hybrid was happy, so were you.

He had dragged in a heater, using it on nights when you came to bed late, only for you to shut it off when you finally slid underneath the covers. He would easily find your warmth, rolling over to lock you into his grasp as you fell asleep.

It became routine over the next couple of weeks, even when the clouds cleared and the days and nights were warm. Jihoon opened up to you more as well, dragging his keyboard into the living room to play you some of the songs he’d been working on in his old bedroom, now a work space. You’d often work in your spare room but recently you’d been spending more time in the living room with Jihoon, finding the space more comfortable to be in. Setting your work away, you lay down on the sofa, a yawn on your lips.

“Hey, can I, um, ask you something?”

His voice breaks you out of your train of thought as you adjust your body. Jihoon sits on the floor near the window, fingers tapping random keys on the keyboard as he avoids eye contact.

“Yeah, what’s up?” There’s hesitance written all over his face before he nods to himself, exhaling sharply before he replies.

“I… I know maybe I’m asking for a lot and, I mean, feel free to say no because I know you probably will! And that’s--that’s okay but I was wondering… if--if I…” Jihoon pauses for much too long as you raise a brow.

“If you what? Jihoon, is everything okay?”

“I, yeah, everything’s fine, I just.. I’m sorry, I… It’s okay if you think it’s weird and I’ve never really done it before either but I just, I noticed when… when I touch you, you get really, um, warm and I… I like it a lot so I was wondering if I could try something?”

A million different thoughts float through your head in a millisecond and you can’t stop the blush that creeps up your neck and paints your face red.

“Um, I guess… it would depend? What exactly… did you want to try?” You bite the inside of your cheek, already trying to keep yourself from squirming around.

“I… can I try… eating you out? I wanna see something.”

The formality of Jihoon asking so politely if he could go down on you sends your brain short circuiting quicker than lightning.

He’s convinced at this point you hate him and will probably send him back to the adoption home the next day when he sees the blank look on your face as you process.

“Shit, I’m sorry I shouldn’t have asked that, I---”

“Y-yes…”

“Wait, what, hold--” Jihoon turns into a sputtering mess, his palms clammy against his sweats as he squirms. “Wait, did you say… yes?” You nod, already feeling the heat pooling in your lower abdomen as you shift awkwardly on the sofa. “Yeah I… um, I’d… be okay with that…” Trailing off, you try to look at everything but Jihoon, mildly embarrassed at how increasingly wet you were already getting.

“O-okay, um, when should we… do it?” Jihoon’s voice is shaky and to anyone else he sounded nervous, but inside he could barely contain his new found excitement.

“Now is okay? I… I’m okay with right now.” You finally look at him, finding him already crawling over to you on the floor before moving the coffee table enough to sit on his knees in front of you. “I guess, let’s start…?” He trails off, the blush never leaving his face as he twiddles his thumbs. You nod, sitting up to slide your shorts off, shimmying to the edge of the sofa as you spread your legs for him.

“Interesting.”

“W-what?” You stare at him from between your legs as he slots himself in front of you, cold palms holding your thighs open as you shiver from his touch. “Nothing, just… you’re already wet.”

If there was a sinkhole underneath you, you’d like for it to take you right about now. The embarrassment sets your body on fire as Jihoon chuckles under his breath. “And now you’re really warm? Interesting.” You bite your lip as he leans in closer to your clothed mound, his tongue peeking out from between his lips.

“Ready to test my theory?”

Gulping, he doesn’t even give you a chance to reply before he’s licking you through your panties, his tongue adding pressure along the wet patch growing on the fabric. Your thighs threaten to clamp shut around his head but his grip on you is too tight, prying your legs wide open as he continues to lick at your clothed entrance.

Jihoon pauses for a second, a groan leaving his lips. “Fuck, you taste so good, I need to get these panties off of you now.” Agreeing, you hook your fingers into the band of your panties, ready to get them off.

“Ah, ah, not like that.” There’s a ghost of a smirk on his face before he lets go of your thighs, fingertips pushing your hands away and replacing them with his before he tears them in half, the soaked material sliding off of your body as you stare at him in shock.

“Jihoon, what th---”

“What? Didn’t think I was capable?” You’re at a loss for words; the sudden change in his demeanor from shy to slightly dominating, intoxicating. “I’m just… wow.” He laughs at your lack of response, gripping your thighs again as he leans back in, his tongue already on your slit as he licks up a stripe from your clit to your entrance. Your hands immediately tangle into his hair, moaning as his tongue laps at your wetness.

You feel like you’re floating on clouds, warm and dreamy while Jihoon eats you out. He hadn’t even used his fingers on you yet, only sliding his tongue through your folds and prodding at your entrance and you were sure you could cum just like this.

“Ngh, Jihoon… Can you… make me cum?”

The male between your legs hums in response before his tongue flicks at your clit, a groan leaving you when he draws harsh circles around the nub. You can feel the pressure in your body cresting as you try to grind down on his waiting tongue.

“Jihoon, I’m---”

When you wake up, Jihoon is still by the window, notebook full of music related jargon as he glances up at you. “Oh hey, I was wondering when you’d wake up. You fell asleep so fast after you laid down, I was gonna ask if you wanted to hear some of the stuff I was working on but you were out like a light.”

Your head is void of any thoughts as you stare blankly into Jihoon’s face; the entire thing had been a dream. A cold sweat coats your body as you sit up, the wetness between your legs insanely real.

“I… yeah, I guess I was tired… I--I didn’t say anything weird in my sleep, did I?”

Jihoon ponders for a moment, lips tilting cutely up into a pout.

“No, I mean, you made some weird little squeaky noises but… that was it. Why? Did you have a weird dream or something?”

“Uh… no, just… wondering.”

Fuck.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

A Certain Type

Warnings: noncon sexual acts, fingering, oral, cheating

This is dark!Steve Rogers (and some side Bucky) and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Steve Rogers has an unhealthy interest in his TA.

for @evnscvll​‘s 3k challenge, I used the prompts Professor AU + ‘Don’t’ by Bryson Tiller

Note: A quick one shot for y’all ft. Professor Steve and a little sleazy Bucky too.

Hope you enjoy it. Thank you. Love you guys!

Please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

Reader📚

You smiled at Lauren as you handed her back her paper; the first assignment of the year. On the due date, Professor Rogers had shuffled them all up and handed you half the stack. That had been the same day as your first lesson. It had all been so overwhelming but more than a month and a half into the semester, you were starting to get a foothold.

“Have a good day,” You watched Lauren go, the last of the students to shuffle out into the hall. 

You grabbed the three papers left in the file folder and crossed to the podium. Your advisor, Professor Rogers, worked at erasing his slanted writing from the whiteboard. You waited patiently until he set down the eraser and turned to you.

“I have some leftovers.” You clapped the bottom of the folder on the wood. “Absentees.”

“Ah, yes,” He neared the other side of the podium and took the file from you. He flipped through the papers inside. “Only three? I think that’s a new record…” He closed the folder and tucked it under his arm. “I’ll hold onto them until next class.”

“Alright,” You nodded. “So… did you get a chance to look over my lesson on Kant?”

“I did,” He bent to grab his bag. “You know, I can really tell you’re a history major first… but it’s good. I’ll send you my notes tonight.”

“I’m trying to break that,” You went to the seat along the first row where you often sat when it wasn’t your turn to teach. You lifted your bag onto the seat. “Trying to focus less on the dry who’s and what’s and more on ideas.”

“Well, so far, you’re a quick learner,” He offered as you packed up your notebook. “We do need to go over the marking scheme for next week’s assignment. You able to make Saturday?”

“Uh,” You glanced at the icon on your phone screen. You had several unanswered and unread messages. “Actually, I’m… busy. I can stop by during regular office hours.”

“I try to keep that reserved for undergrads,” He inhaled. “But I wouldn’t ask you to cancel.”

“I can rearrange--”

“Boyfriend?” He interrupted. “Finally making time?”

“He’s been out of town,” You said meekly. “How about tomorrow? I can come to campus between your afternoon blocks.”

“Hmmm,” He dragged his fingertips over his trimmed beard. “Meet me at Smoky’s. I usually have a coffee there after my morning class.” He pushed the flap over the top of his bag. “They have great carrot muffins.”

“Works for me,” You lifted your leather bag and tucked your phone up your sleeve. “Sorry.”

“Nah, don’t be,” He waved away your apology and went to the door. He opened it and waited expectantly. “We have lives. Some of us more than others.” He chuckled. “You deserve a Saturday to yourself.”

📚

You giggled as your head spun. Bucky pinned you beneath him as he rolled you over on the rug. What had started out as a none-so-innocent wrestling match had turned into your usual affair. He could never win an argument with you so it often ended with his lips, or his hand, smothering out your words.

Besides, you were eager for him. Almost desperate. Two weeks without him and you almost jumped on him the moment he opened the door. And after such a long week, you needed the stress relief.

His fingers tickled along your thigh and past the top of your stockings as he snaked beneath your skirt. You hadn’t started wearing them until you met him. He liked the short ones, especially on you. He pulled your panties aside and you gasped as his fingertips swirled around your clit. You latched onto his shoulders as his lips explored your throat.

“You’re wearing panties,” He growled.

“It’s cold out…” You breathed. 

“You’ve got a coat,” He nipped at your neck and slid his fingers down your folds. “Don’t you?”

You tried to close your legs and his pushed your knee down with his.

“Ah,” He warned. “None of your games.”

“I didn’t come here for a lecture,” You huffed. “I pay tuition for that.”

“We both know why you came here,” He lifted his head and pecked your lips. “How many times did you touch yourself while I was away?”

“That’s none of your business.” You snipped.

“Do you have toys?” His hot breath grazed along your cheek. “Do you think of me?”

“Bucky,” You whined as he poked his fingers inside of you. 

He purred as he dropped his head again and his teeth toyed with the tender flesh of your throat. He pulled your sweater up, rolling it with the tank top beneath until it was above your chest. No bra that day. He hummed and took you nipple in his mouth until your arched your back.

“Well…” He rolled your hard nipple between his thumb and index. “You’ve learned something.”

“Should I just come naked?” You asked.

“Preferably,” He chuckled as he ventured along your stomach, a trail of kisses and bites.

“Ugh,” You groaned as he brushed over your hips bones, his fingers still buried in you. 

He nosed along your pelvis and you tensed in expectation. He paused and raised his head. You looked down at him as his fingers stilled and he hovered close enough for his breath to tickle your cunt.

“What are you waiting for?” You snarled.

He smirked and closed the distance. His eyes never left yours as his tongue swirled around your clit and he sealed his lips around it. You gulped and let out a pathetic moan. His other hand gripped your hip and he hummed as your eyes rolled back and your legs hugged him closer.

“Ah, I missed you,” You stretched your arms out as you tilted into him. “Mmm, Bucky.”

He seemed pleased by your words as his fingers sped up and his tongue danced more firmly around your bud. You began to quiver as he set your nerves on fire. The knot inside of you tightened and the wire drew taut until you couldn’t bear it anymore. At once, you orgasmed, your hand flying down to grasp Bucky’s head as he lapped up your pleasure.

Panting, your body went limp and you laid sprawled out with his head between your legs, twitching as he drew out the ecstasy with his tongue. Slowly, he pulled away and slipped his fingers from inside you, rubbing them over your sensitive clit. He sat up and kneaded your thigh.

“Missed you too, baby,” He flicked open his fly with one hand. “God, I can’t wait any longer.”

Steve 📚

Steve hadn’t been to Bucky’s in a while. They usually met downtown for a beer or ended up at his place. As it was, it didn’t seem like they had much time for each other anymore. Well, Steve wasn’t surprised. His oldest friend was juggling a lot; his job, his fiancee, and apparently some new side piece.

He sat up as Bucky offered him a bottle of crisp beer. The top wisped as he accepted it and Steve felt its chill against his lips before he took his first sip. He sat back and bent his leg to rest over his other knee, rolling his ankle as he stared at the bare floorboards.

“What happened to the carpet?” He asked in realisation.

“It’s getting cleaned,” Bucky sat across from him and snickered. “You know, made a bit of a mess.”

“Anna?” Steve raised a brow.

“Nah,” Bucky shrugged. “She cancelled her flight. Apparently they had some emergency at the lab.”

“Hmm,” Steve rested the bottle atop the arm of the couch. “This other girl?”

“What am I supposed to do? I fly all the way to Germany for about twenty minutes of Anna’s attention. The last time…” He shook his head. “I just don’t know how to… end it. Don’t even know that I want to. I just want it to be over. Two years is a long time.”

Steve nodded. He wasn’t sure what to say. What advice could he offer? His last relationship hadn’t lasted long and had been so far back, he barely remembered more than her name. After a slew of bad dates and disappointing flings, he decided to focus on his work. Well, even that was becoming difficult.

“And when Anna comes back?”

“Well, you know, this girl, she’s still in college, she’s got a lot going on. It is what it is.” He said. “You know, she’d find another guy in an instant and forget about me.”

“College?” Steve blinked. He hadn’t known that. “A bit young.”

His cheeks burned. He wasn’t sure if he was reprimanding his friend or himself. The fact that Bucky was dipping into the campus pool reminded Steve of his own guilt. Sure, he hadn’t done anything, it was all professional, but his thoughts… His thoughts were what troubled him.

“You never… thought of it?” Bucky asked. “You spend so much time around these girls and you never even--”

“It’s against the rules,” Steve cleared his throat. “I’m there to teach. I do my job.”

“And when’s the last time you got laid?”

“Shut up,” Steve took a swig. “The carpet?”

“She’s funny. She likes to… play around first.” Bucky took a mouthful beer and his eyes turned dreamy. “It wasn’t me who ruined the carpet.”

“Mmm,” Steve jiggled his leg anxiously. The vision that flashed in his mind had him sipping again. It wasn’t Bucky and some faceless girl on the floor, it was him and the sweet TA. He cleared his throat and looked through the dark brown glass. “Just about done. You got another?”

“Maybe she has a friend?” Bucky offered as he stood.

He neared as Steve drained the last of his beer and handed over the empty bottle.

“Thirsty?” Bucky took it and disappeared, returning with a fresh one.

“Long week.” Steve rubbed his cheek as he leaned forward to take the second bottle. “Another ahead.”

“Well, I could ask her.” Bucky grabbed his own beer and stayed standing. “The young ones, these days, they don’t want anything serious.”

“But I do,” Steve grumbled. “Thanks but… no thanks.”

“Your loss,” Bucky said. “You know, she’s real wild. I took her to a baseball game. She hates the game but… what she did in the bathroom… wow.”

Steve gave a weak smile and chuckled dryly. He glanced around. The carpet wasn’t the only thing that had disappeared. That framed picture of Bucky and Anna was gone too and the mantle only held the antique gun mounted on mahogany.

“Too bad it’s off season now,” Bucky droned on as he lazily paced and drank his beer.

“Yeah,” Steve leaned back and felt something hard beside the cushion. 

He shifted but it poked him again. He reached down into the crevice as Bucky took the baseball he’d had signed years ago and began to toss it up and down as he complained about the last season. 

Steve pulled out the long cylinder and blinked at how familiar it was. He swallowed and tucked it into his jean pocket quickly as Bucky threw the ball in his direction. He barely caught it without spilling his beer and chucked it back with venom.

“The fuck, Bucky?”

“Good to see you still got it,” Bucky laughed. “Pizza?”

“Sure,” Steve huffed. “No pepperoni.”

“Boring,” Bucky said as he pulled out his phone.

Steve took a deep breath as Bucky set down his beer and lifted his phone to his ear. He stepped into the short hallway and greeted the other end, carefully placing an order for a large and a side of wings. 

As he did. Steve pulled out the pen and turned it between his fingers. The daisy pendant that dangled from the end, the initials etched into the rose gold, the little scratch along the tip. It was definitely hers. His stomach sank and he quickly hid it as Bucky’s voice died.

He’d have to be sure. He’d give it back to her the next day and see.

Reader📚

You were heartened by Steve’s interest as you finished up your last slide. The lesson had gone well and the class was interested in what could otherwise be a dry topic. You took questions but found many of them were simple enough. The students seemed to understand well enough and you reminded them to submit their next assignment by Wednesday night.

Several students stopped to ask you about your office hours before the room finally emptied. Steve approached as you slid your papers into your notebook and closed it. He reached over the podium and set down the metal pen. The one your mother had gifted you when you were accepted to your masters program.

“You forgot this,” He let it roll down to the lip and catch there.

“Oh my god, I’ve been looking for this,” You grabbed it and spun it in your fingers. “Thanks so much! I’d hate for anyone else to just claim it.”

“No problem,” His blue eyes were, for once, humourless.

“Where was it?”

His brows shot up and his lips parted. He looked over his shoulder then back to you.

“U-under the desk,” He pointed to your usual seat. “Caught my eye during one of my other classes.”

“Well,” You fiddled with it and gathered up your notebook. “It needs a refill anyway.”

You grabbed your bag and shoved your things inside. You were glad he’d found it, you had been convinced you’d left it at Bucky’s and he had been evasive since Saturday. Work, as usual. Well, what did you expect? He was older and unlike college boys, he couldn’t just skip.

“I liked it,” Steve hovered around you, a hand in his pocket. “I see you took my advice.”

“Oh, the lesson,” You looked up at him as you lifted your bag. “Yeah, well, it would’ve been a disaster without you.”

“Yeah?” He smirked. “So, you got another class now?”

“Thesis work,” You said. “Library.”

“Fun,” He remarked. “You know… if you don’t… if you need a quiet place, you can use my office. I have some stuff to take care of before my next block so…”

“Oh, I don’t… know, I wouldn’t want to…”

“It’s pretty big anyway. Even if I was there, I probably wouldn’t even notice you.” He said. “And there’s a bluetooth speaker in there. A gift I never really use but you’re free to.”

“I, um…” You considered the library and the stuffy, dry air. The noise of hidden food wrappers and buzzing whispers. “You sure you wouldn’t mind?”

“Go on,” He grabbed his bag and checked his watch. “I don’t mind.”

“Twist my arm,” You accepted.

“I’ll have to unlock it for you,” He went to the door. 

“Uh, sure,” You followed him into the hall and waited as he locked up the classroom.

Silently, you walked beside him. You realised you didn’t have much to say about anything besides philosophy. You pulled out your phone. A message from Bucky. Finally. After days of radio silence.

“Sorry, baby, going out of town.” You hissed and blackened the screen.

“What’s up?” Steve asked as you followed him out into the late autumn chill.

“Nothing,” You shrugged.

“That boyfriend again?” He asked. 

“It’s whatever,” You grumbled. “Really.”

“I don’t know, it seems like every time I see you, he’s up to no good.”

“Well, he’s… busy.”

“And? You are too.”

“Yeah, but...I mean…” You were quiet as you walked along the campus path. “I don’t know. I shouldn’t--”

“I don’t mind. A little bit of impersonal gossip is… fun. And your secret’s safe with me.”

You glanced over at him and then around at the students all around.

“He’s older,” You admitted. “So… he’s always busy.”

“Older? Like what? A year or two?”

“A bit more than that,” You said nervously. “More…”

You were quiet again. He led you up the steps of the philosophy building and as he always did, opened the door. 

“...Your age.” You finished.

He blinked and tailed you inside, gesturing you up the stairs. You often did prep in his office so you didn’t need much guidance as he followed you up.

“Oh, old-old,” He scoffed. “I get it.”

You laughed, despite yourself and he came up beside you as you reached the third floor.

“You’re supposed to say ‘No, Professor Rogers, you’re not old’,” He chided as he rounded the corner and stopped in front of his office door. “Or something like that.”

“Sorry, I--”

As he reached into his pocket for his keys, a chiming tune filled the hallway. He pulled out his phone instead and apologized as he put it to his ear.

“Hey,” He cradled it with his shoulder as he fished for his keys. “What’s up, Buck?”

He shoved the key into the slot and the audible friction of metal in metal was like a knife to your heart. ‘Buck’? You frowned as he pushed open the door and waved you inside. He stayed at the threshold as he continued his call.

“Germany? I thought you said-- Ahh, okay, yeah,” He leaned on the doorframe. “Anna will be happy to see ya. Oh yeah, been a while.” He tilted his head. “We’ll reschedule. No problem. Yep. Have a good one.”

You waited anxiously as he hung up and stepped inside. He tucked his phone away and checked his watch again.

“Sorry, old friend. He’s going to see his fiancee and well--” He stopped himself. “Anyways, desk is there, speaker is…” He went to the shelf and pulled forward a rather expensive gadget. “Here. Maybe you’ll have better luck figuring it out.”

“Uh, thanks,” You nodded, almost dumbfounded as your mind began to whir. “I appreciate it. I won’t be more than an hour or two.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He said. “Take all the time you need.”

“Thanks, again.”

“Not at all,” He went to the door and turned back. “See ya tomorrow.”

“Sure,” You smiled.

He closed the door behind him as he went. You dropped your bag and fumbled for your phone. You tore it out of your pocket and swiped up. You searched through your contacts and hit call. It had to be a coincidence. Right?

“Hey,” Bucky answered from the other end, a din of activity around him. “I’m just about to fly out.”

“You’re engaged?” You hissed.

“What-- I-- How did you--”

“You are!” You snarled. “Oh my god, I can’t believe you! So have you been busy with work or with her?”

“Baby, it’s--”

“Don’t call me baby,” You retorted. “In fact, don’t call me. Ever.”

You hung up. A floorboard creaked and you turned around. Steve stood in the open door.

“Sorry, I… forgot to grab something,” He pointed past you. “I didn’t mean to--”

“I gotta go,” You bent to pick up your bag. “I’m sorry, I--” 

You neared but he blocked the door with his body.

“Bucky?”

“Your friend,” You uttered. “I didn’t know. I-- Did you?”

“No,” He answered. “Not until… now.”

“Well, now you do.”

“You don’t have to go because of-- I don’t care,” He said.

“I do. I’m embarrassed.”

“Don’t be. He lied. How could you know?” He touched your arm.

“Isn’t he-- he’s your friend. You should be defending him,” You recoiled.

“And? He can be my friend and still be wrong,” He stepped closer and you back up, his hand lingered along your elbow. “He doesn’t deserve you.”

“Thanks, Professor, but I should--”

“Steve,” He corrected you. “I think we know each other well enough.”

He got closer again and you continued to retreat. He kicked the door closed behind him and you flinched.

“What are you--”

He leaned in and you were surprised by his hand on your chin. You dropped your bag and tried to wriggle away. He kissed you and you pushed against his chest. Your skin was alight as your insides wrenched. He parted, at last, his hand still around your jaw.

“What are you doing?” You breathed. 

“You deserve better,” His kissed your again and you bit his lip.

“Professor--”

“Steve,” He insisted and squeezed your chin.

“Let me go,” You grabbed his wrist.

He marched you backwards until you were against his desk. You clutched his wrist tightly but he didn’t budge.

“What? You’ll fuck him but not me?” He sneered. 

“It’s not-- you’re my advisor. I--” Your hand slipped down his arm as you panicked. “Please.”

“I’ve tried so hard not to think about it. About you.” He pushed you against the desk, bending you back until you were flat atop it, your legs hanging off. He loomed over you. “Thinking I was too old and yet I just wanted to have you... Right here… in the front of the class. Mmm, and then I find out you’re fucking him and I realise… you want it just as bad.”

“No, no, “Prof-- Steve,” You pleaded as his hand slid down to your neck. “I-- It was only… It was just sex.”

“Did you ever think of me when you were with him? Huh?” His lips were just above yours. “I thought of you. He told me about you but I didn’t even realise… I heard you do all sorts of naughty things.”

His other hand tugged at your blouse and you writhed helplessly.

“He told me you wore these little skirts for him,” He pressed his lips to your cheeks. “That you kept them on as he fucked you.”

“Steve,” You whined. “Stop!”

“Or what? It’d be a waste to toss away almost a semester’s work…” He snarled. “You know what they do to students who cross professional bounds? I have a duty to report such misconduct.”

“No, no, you--”

“Who are they going to believe?” He snapped. “Hmm, especially when it comes out you been fucking a man twice your age on the side.”

“They-- Steve,” You tried to catch his hand as he tugged on your pants. “You’re scaring me.”

“This isn’t exactly how I wanted our first time to be,” His hand snaked around and he pulled your pants down to your thighs in a single wipe. “That was before I knew how you like it.”

He held you down by your throat as he forced your pants past your knees, your panties twisted in the folds. He brought his foot up to push them further and free them from your ankles.

His hand flew back up your leg and he pushed two fingers against your cunt as you squirmed. He pressed deeper and rubbed along your folds as he bent over you again. He kissed you and drew back before you could bite him.

“You’re wet, kitten,” He purred. “We both know what you want.”

He toyed with you, flicking his fingers over your clit and dragging them back down. He repeated the motion several times until you bit your lips and slapped at the desk.

“Look at you,” He pushed his middle fingers inside of you and your back arched. “He didn’t care about you. Not like I do.”

He pressed the heel of his hand to your clit and curled his fingers. He squeezed and you gasped. He pulled his hand down and spread it over your chest, holding you down as he played with you. He sped up and his fingers clutched your blouse as he shook your body. You closed your eyes as you tried to resist the coil winding tightly inside you.

You mewled and he hushed you. You gritted your teeth and slapped your hand over his. He rocked his hand faster and you struggled to catch your breath. Your nails dug into the back of his hand and you pressed your lips together to hold in the sudden rise. You spasmed as you came atop the desk.

He slowed his hand and when he withdrew, you felt empty and cold. You opened your eyes as he brought his hand to his mouth and sucked clean his fingers. He hummed and ran his hands over your thighs. 

“Stand up,” He ordered. 

You stayed as you were, shaking, and stared at him. You drew your legs together and he pinched you.

“Now,” He growled.

You pushed yourself up and slid off the edge of the desk. He grabbed your open jacket and pulled it down your arms. Then he tore the hem of your blouse up and you were forced to raise your arms as he stripped away the cotton blend. Your bra fell loose as he swiftly unclasped the hooks and it fell away from your arms.

He grasped your shoulders and ran his hands down your front, cupping your chest as he took in every inch of you. He grabbed your arm and spun you to face the desk. He took your hands in his and placed them flat on the top. 

“Stay,” He bid. “I won’t tell you twice.”

His hand grazed your ass and he spanked you lightly. You winced and he reluctantly drew away. You trembled as you listened to him behind you. He dropped his jacket over your shoulder on the desk in front of you. Then his zipper whispered in the tense silence and he stepped closer until you felt his warmth against your naked back. He kicked your feet apart with his leather shoe and fumbled around behind you.

You flinched as his hand brushed against you and you felt him prodded along your ass. He leaned against you and guided your hand further over the desk. He dragged his tip along your folds, poking until he found your entrance. You tried to push away from the desk and he leaned on you heavier.

“He can’t make you feel like I can,” He rasped in your ear as he slid into you. “How does that feel, kitten?”

He impaled you entirely and your fingers curled against the wood. You gulped and hung your head.

“Answer me,” He wrapped his arm around your neck and forced your head up. “Be a good girl.”

“G-good,” You stuttered as he thrust into you.

“Yeah,” He breathed against your scalp. “Better than him?”

He rocked steadily against you as you struggled to keep yourself from folding over the desk. He grabbed your hip and sank his nails into the flesh.

“When I ask a question, you answer me,” He warned. “Like the good girl you are.”

“Y-y-yes,” You stammered as your thighs tingled. “B-b-better than… h-him.”

“Much better than I ever imagined,” His hot breath seeped into you as he nuzzled the crown of your head. “Fuck.”

You moaned as his arm wrapped snugger around your neck, his muscles hard through the soft fabric of his shirt. His flesh clapped against yours as he rutted into you. Deeper, faster. You slapped at his arm with one hand as your other remained planted on the desktop. You were on tiptoe as you orgasmed, barely muffling it as you bit down on your lip.

“That’s it,” He purred. “That’s it. Oh, kitten, I don’t think I can handle much more. Can you?”

He sped up again and your knees buckled dangerously. His arm tightened until he was choking you entirely, drawing you flush against him. You grasped at his arm and he pushed you closer to the desk until you were pressed to it. The soles of your boots, the only clothing still left to you, slipped on the floor and you came again as you fought for air.

“Ah, here I go.” He grunted.

He slammed into you as his other arm hugged your waist and he lifted you off your feet with his final thrusts. He spilled into you and slowed. As he still, he sighed and his arms loosened just a little. He turned you and rested against his desk, still inside you. 

He drew you into his lap as he slid back and bent his head against your shoulder. His hand fluttered along your cunt, hovering over it as he caught his breath.

“I’ll tell Bucky to leave you alone,” He muttered. “And you will do the same.”

[themetaphorgirl]

I asked for cute and cuddly things so I could write something adorable!! I tried to combine as many as possible!

@therestisconfettis​ : “the psolc babies making a pillow fort!!”

@birds-are-better-than-you​ : “My brain immediately goes to people actually listening to him talk instead of cutting him off, but thats just rooted in sadness”

@fragolinaa​ : “I just want people cuddling him, maybe someone who hasn't yet like Emily or Dave?”

@purpleturtle31extra : “Spending an off day exploring music together! Like showing him songs that remind you of him or a certain memory..”

anonymous: “cute cuddly idea: u mentioned Emily and Dave getting Spencer legos. Write a little thing of a rainy day or whatever and everyone’s just chilling building random shit with legos and then there’s gonna be Spencer actually building something with proper ratios and actual potential urban planning and everyone else is just like “hmm... I have built something vaguely resembling a plane”

anonymous: “omg cuddly mom alex?? maybe spencer napping with her and he has a nightmare??”

I hope I touched on everything!! I think I captured at least a little bit of everything!!!

----------

“Hey,” Emily said. “Are you feeling okay?”

Spencer dragged his fork around his plate, his chin resting heavily in his hand. “I’m not hungry,” he said dully.

“This is your last day to eat whatever you want,” she pointed out. “Go get something sugary. Donuts or something.”

He shrugged, and she bit back a sigh. Everyone else had left on Wednesday afternoon to spend Thanksgiving break with their respective families- literally everyone, even Hotch- and while they’d had a nice Thanksgiving at James’s house, and she was enjoying having her room all to herself, she and Spencer had been left behind, and the kid was moping like it was his job. She was starting to figure out that while he liked doing things on his own, he needed the security of knowing that everyone else was nearby.

“I guess I’ll go get some chocolate milk or something,” Spencer sighed, sliding down from his chair. 

“See? There you go,” she said. “Treat yourself.”

As soon as he slid down from his chair and trudged away she pulled out her phone.

the cause of hotchner’s headaches

9:09am

You guys need to help w the kid hes so sad i dont know what to do

James texted back first, which didn’t surprise her.

doctor james, medicine man

9:10am

Is he okay? 

the cause of hotchner’s headaches

9:10am

HES SAD I CANT HANDLE IT COME HELP ME

spaghetti grandpa

9:11am

He’ll be fine. He knows everybodys coming back today right?

the cause of hotchner’s headaches

9:12am

HE IS SAD NOW COME OVER

She set her phone aside as Spencer walked back up to the table with a carton of chocolate milk in his hands. “Can you open this for me, please?” he asked. 

She did and handed it back, but he didn’t drink it. “How about we go watch a movie or something?” she suggested. “While we’re waiting for everybody to get back on campus. That’ll be fun, right?”

He shrugged. “I guess,” he said. “What time is it?”

“A little after nine.”

He scrunched up his face, calculating. “Who do you think will be back first?” he asked.

“I don’t know, babe, we’ll have to see,” she said. “Drink your milk and we’ll get out of here.”

He sighed. “I don’t think I want it anymore,” he said. She shot him her best impression of Alex’s mom look. He rolled his eyes, but he drank it anyway.

Outside the dining hall it was cold and gray and dreary, rain falling just steadily enough to be irritating. She pulled the hood of her jacket over her head and made Spencer put his purple galaxy-print raincoat on over his his sweater before they walked down the steps. 

“Do you think the weather will ground planes?” he asked anxiously. 

“Your guess is as good as mine, squirt,” she said. “It’ll definitely rain all day, but I don’t know if it’ll affect planes. You’ll probably know better than me.”

He said nothing, but he slipped his small hand into hers. She squeezed back gently. The kid had been perfectly well-behaved the whole time she’d been left to watch him, but it was frustrating to see him so sad and quiet and droopy. She didn’t think it was possible to be homesick for other people, but Spencer definitely had a bad case of it.

They settled in the common room, but the cozy space seemed cavernous and empty without the rest of the group. Spencer left his coat and his shoes in his room and settled into Alex’s usual spot on the couch, leaning on the armrest. 

“So what do you want to do, kiddo?” she said. He raised and lowered one shoulder. She huffed. “I’ll just pick something then.”

“Nothing scary, please,” he said, his chin resting on his folded arms.

“No, don’t worry, I learned my lesson,” she said. She grabbed a Star Wars off the shelf- she wasn’t sure which one it was, but she figured she couldn’t go wrong with something sci fi.

“Hotch’s plane lands at eleven, right?” he said as she plunked down on the opposite end of the couch.

“I think so,” she said. She reached over and ruffled his hair lightly. “Stop overthinking, you’re going to blow a fuse in there. Everyone will be home soon, don’t worry about it.”

“I’m not worried,” he mumbled.

They got about halfway through Star Wars (she still wasn’t entirely sure which one it was) when they heard Dave and James on the stairs. “Hey, guys!” Dave called. “We’ve got presents!”

Emily paused the movie. “What do you mean, presents?” she said. “What’d you bring me?”

James and Dave each held large plastic tubs that they dropped with heavy clatters on the floor. “Spencer, you’ve been having fun with the legos we got you for your birthday, right?” James said.

Spencer raised his head. “Yeah,” he said slowly.

“Well, we decided to dig around for our old lego collections you can have your own giant collection,” Dave said. 

He slid off the couch. “Really?” he said.

“Yeah, absolutely,” James said. “Go get yours, we’ll put them all together.”

Spencer’s eyes lit up. “Okay!” he said, darting off to his room.

“Oh my god, thank goodness you two are here,” Emily said. 

“You know, you said he was sad, and I didn’t believe it till I saw him,” Dave said, wrenching the lid off the first bin. “He looks like a deflated balloon.”

“See? I wasn’t lying,” Emily said. “Poor kid has been moping all week.”

James checked his phone. “Hopefully everybody will get in without any problems,” he said. “Alex texted me a little bit ago and said they delayed her flight by an hour.” 

“Oh, yikes,” Emily said. “She’d better get back here soon. And don’t tell the kid that, he’ll worry more.”

Spencer ran back into the room with his legos. “How should I organize them?” he asked. “Color first or size first?”

“How about we, you know, build something?” Dave suggested as he sat down on the couch. “C’mere, passerotto, I think I have all the pieces to the batcave.”

“Ooh, which version?” James asked as Spencer sat down on the floor in front of Dave.

“I don’t know. I think I built it once when I was Spencer’s age and then never touched it again.”

Emily leaned over James and scooped up a handful of plastic pieces. “What are you going to build?” she asked.

“Hey, don’t copy me!”

They worked on their projects mostly in companionable silence, sometimes absent chatter. Rain continued to tap at the windows. At least Spencer seemed distracted at last, focused on his projects.

Lightning cracked, white light shining through the window for a brief moment, and everyone jumped; Spencer knocked over one of his structures. “Holy shit,” Emily said. “That was terrifying.”

“You okay?” Dave asked, touching Spencer’s arm lightly.

He nodded, leaning against Dave until he lifted him onto his lap. “Do you think everybody’s okay?” he asked. “Planes can’t always fly in this sort of weather.”

“I’m sure everybody’s fine,” Dave reassured him. Spencer bit his lip, still staring out the window. “So what have you been building?”

“Scale model of campus,” he said. “Well, it’s not exactly to scale. But it’s pretty close.”

James held up a lump of legos. “This was supposed to be a plane,” he said. “But it doesn’t look particularly aerodynamic.”

Spencer laughed. “What kind of plane is it supposed to be?” he asked. “It looks like an off-kilter Cessna.”

“I don’t know. Just...a plane,” James said. 

“I’m trying to see how tall I can build this thing without it falling over,” Emily said. “Not much success yet.”

“I’m sure you know, caro,” Dave said, poking Spencer lightly in the side. “How tall is the tallest lego structure ever?”

“The tallest one is in Milan, it’s a hundred and fourteen feet, eleven inches tall,” he said. “The previous tallest was just a hundred and fourteen feet tall, in Budapest.”

“Milan, hm?” Dave said. “Maybe I’ll go see it next time I’m over there.”

“There’s one in Tel Aviv that was built to be four feet taller but-”

Lightning cracked again and Spencer jumped. Dave rubbed his back lightly. “It’s okay, it’s just a bad storm,” he said. It was too late, though- the attempts at distraction had failed, and Spencer was clearly back to worrying, the corners of his mouth tugging down.

Dave looked over at Emily. What should we do? he mouthed. She shrugged helplessly.

Thankfully, right at that moment heavy footsteps echoed on the stairs. Spencer raised his head. Please let it be one of our group, please let it be one of our group, Emily thought fervently.

A tall figure in a rain-soaked coat made it to the top of the stairs, almost terrifying for a split second, but he threw back his hood and shook his head. “Jesus, that was a nightmare,” he said. 

Spencer scrambled to his feet and ran towards him, nearly kicking Dave in his haste. “Hotch!” he shrieked, throwing his arms around his waist.

“Hey, kiddo!” Hotch said, bending to hug him. “Hey, careful, it’s raining really hard out there, I’m drenched and I don’t want you to get wet.” 

“How was your flight?” James asked.

Spencer, undeterred, still clung to Hotch; Hotch ran his fingers through his thick short curls. “Unbelievably shitty,” he said. “Flights were getting canceled left and right, it’s just storming bad everywhere. If I hadn’t gotten such an early flight, I might not’ve made it back.”

“That’s what we’ve been worrying about,” Emily said. “And when I say we I mean Spencer.”

Hotch tugged him back so he could see his face. “Hey, stop worrying,” he said. “Everybody will get back eventually. I promise.” 

“I can’t help worrying,” Spencer said. “What if everybody’s flights get delayed? What if something happens to their planes. What if-”

Hotch scooped him up. “Hey, I think the dining hall’s open for lunch,” he said. “Anybody else hungry? I didn’t have time for breakfast before my flight and all they gave me was one packet of pretzels.”

“They stopped giving away peanuts because of allergies becoming more common,” Spencer said, leaning his cheek against Hotch’s shoulder even though his coat was soaked with rain.

“Yeah?” Hotch said. “How about you go get your coat and your shoes, okay? I’m starving.”

“Okay,” Spencer said reluctantly. Hotch set him back down on his feet and he ran down the hall to his room.

“I am so glad you’re back, Hotchner,” Emily said, sweeping her lego tower back into the bin. “He’s been so sad with everybody gone.”

“I can tell,” he said. “Has he been like this the whole time?”

“Oh, yeah,” Emily said. “I’ve barely been able to get two words out of him.”

“Even when they came over for Thanksgiving he wasn’t talking much,” James added.

Hotch sighed. “I didn’t even think about this,” he said. “Poor kid.”

Emily’s phone buzzed. “Oh, it’s Penelope,” she said. “I’ll put her on speaker. Hey, Pen, how’s it going?”

“Terrible!” Penelope said, her voice crackling over the line. “I made the flight from California to Texas for my layover, but they canceled my connecting flight. It’s storming too bad.”

“Oh, yikes,” Dave said. “Are you going to be okay?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” she sighed. “They have me booked for a flight first thing in the morning, and the airline is putting me up in a hotel for the night, but it’s so frustrating.”

“I’m sure,” James said. “Stay safe, okay? Do you need anything?”

“Are you kidding? The hotel has like a million channels and room service, I’m doing great!” Penelope said. “I’ll call you guys in the morning before my flight, okay? Talk to you soon!”

Emily sighed as the call ended. “Well, that’s one down,” she said.

“Penelope’s not coming?”

Spencer peeked out of the hall, his rainboots on and his coat dragging from his hand. “Yeah, her connecting flight got canceled,” Dave said. “But she’s safe, and she’ll be on a flight tomorrow, okay? So don’t worry.”

Judging by the way he pressed his mouth together, he definitely was worried. Emily pushed herself up from the floor. “Let’s go get lunch, okay?” she said. “Before Hotch starves.”

The rain had gotten decidedly worse, coming down in heavy sheets and flooding patches of the courtyard. Her umbrella helped a little but not much; Dave complained loudly the entire walk over. Spencer stayed glued to Hotch’s side, clinging tightly to his hand even once they made it to the warm safety of the dining hall. 

Hotch pulled Spencer’s hood down as they got in line. “What do you want?” he asked. 

“I’m not hungry,” he said.

He frowned, then covered Spencer’s ears. “Emily, be honest,” he said. “Did he eat while we were gone?”

“Not for lack of trying,” she said. “I kept putting shit on his plate and he barely touched it.”

“Did he just eat ice cream and candy?”

“He didn’t even want sweets. Or coffee, even.”

Hotch’s frown deepened. “Well, shit,” he said. He dropped his hands to Spencer’s shoulders. “Okay, kid, you have to eat something. If you don’t pick, I’ll pick for you.”

Spencer shrugged. “That’s fine,” he said. 

Hotch met Emily’s gaze, eyebrows raised. “I told you,” she said. 

She followed Hotch down the cafeteria line as he filled up two plates. Spencer stayed so close he ran the risk of getting stepped on, his small hand clinging to the hem of Hotch’s jacket.

Dave and James had beaten them to their usual table, and neither of them looked particularly happy. “Bad news,” James said. “JJ just called. Her parents rescheduled her flight. They were worried about the storms, so she’ll be here tomorrow afternoon.”

Emily glanced over at Spencer. “But she’s okay?” he said anxiously.

“She’s fine, caro,” Dave said. “And she’ll be here tomorrow.”

“What about Derek and Alex?” he asked. “Have they called? Or texted.”

“Not yet,” James said. “Maybe they’re already on their flights, though. I”m sure we’ll hear from them soon.”

Hotch set the tray down on the table, then picked Spencer up and set him down in his chair. “They’ll be fine,” he said. “So how did Thanksgiving go for you guys?”

Even with their attempts at changing the subject and trying to draw him into the conversation, Spencer seemed to sink further into himself, his legs tucked up under him and his chin resting in his hand, his plate still mostly untouched. Emily couldn’t blame him for being sad. All week it had been just the two of them in the nearly-deserted dining hall, and even with the boys there it seemed wrong without the rest of the group- Penelope shrieking about something that didn’t need to be shrieked about, Derek regaling them with stories from football practice, JJ’s pretty laugh bubbling over, Alex keeping the peace and stopping cups and plates from getting knocked over and tilted onto the ground.

Hotch didn’t make much headway getting Spencer to eat, but at least he ate a little bit, and their little group braved the storm to get back to Lincoln House. “What have you guys been up to?” he asked as they settled in the common room again, coats and umbrellas hung up to dry.

“Legos,” James said. “This was supposed to be a plane.”

Hotch laughed. “Yikes,” he said. “I’m glad you’re not planning on going into engineering.”

“Yeah, probably for the best,” he said ruefully. “I-”

“Hold on, hold on,” Dave interrupted. “Did you guys see the group chat?”

Emily fumbled for her phone. “No, I didn’t, I...oh.”

“What’s wrong?” Hotch asked.

“Derek’s flight got canceled too,” James said. “He says it got delayed and he sat on the tarmac for three hours, but they pulled everybody off the plane. His mom’s already picked him up, so he’s fine.”

Emily glanced over at Spencer. He curled himself up smaller, his knees tucked up to his chest, chewing on his thumbnail. “But he’ll be here tomorrow?” he said. 

“Yeah, he’ll be here tomorrow,” Dave reassured him.

Spencer lifted his head. “Can we call Alex?” he asked quietly. 

“Yeah, of course,” Emily said, immediately pulling Alex’s contact info on the screen. “Here, kiddo. Just press-”

Lightning cracked, and with a sharp pop the common room went dark.

“Holy shit!” Emily shrieked, the phone falling from her hand.

“Did a fuse blow?” Dave said.

James got up and looked out the window. “Well, judging by the other buildings on campus...I think the power’s out everywhere,” he said.

“Well, fuck,” Hotch said.

Emily raised an eyebrow. “Watch your language!” she said in mock horror.

“Oh, shut up,” Hotch said good-naturedly. “Well, I guess we’ll just have to wait for the power to come back on. Spencer, do you want to go ahead and call Alex? She’ll probably be glad to miss the power outage.”

“I think the tower’s down too,” Spencer said in a small voice. “There’s no signal.” He held the phone back out to Emily. “Thanks anyway.”

She reached for the phone, and as the lock screen flickered she caught the faint mark of tears on his cheek. “Oh, no,” she said. “Oh, fuck. Spencer, don’t cry.”

“I’m not crying,” he said, but there was a distinct wobble in his voice.

“Spencer, it’s going to be okay,” Hotch said. “The power’s going to come back on, and everyone will be home soon.”

It was too dark to see, but she could hear Spencer sniffling in a valiant effort to keep form crying. “I know,” he said. “But I-”

Hotch picked Spencer up and placed him in Emily’s lap. “Stay here with Em for a second,” he said. “James, Dave, come with me.”

Spencer dropped his head against Emily’s collarbone as she wrapped her arms around him. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled.

“Don’t be sorry,” she said. “It’s been a rough week, dude. You didn’t get to go home and see your family, and you miss everybody. And you’re worried because of the storms. It makes sense.” She kissed the top of his head. “And now we’ve got all this power outage shit. But it’ll be okay.”

Hotch dumped an armload of stuff onto the nearest armchair. “Thank goodness for Penelope’s illegal candle stash,” he said. 

Emily twined one of Spencer’s short curls around her finger. “What’s with all of the pillows and blankets?” she asked.

In the dim light she could see Hotch grin. “We’re going to make a blanket fort,” he said. “C’mere, Spencer, I could use your brain for this.”

Emily set Spencer on his feet as James and Dave brought in their collections of pillows and blankets. She busied herself lighting candles and placing them in safe places around the room as Spencer directed the older boys in their construction. He seemed to perk up a little bit with something to focus on, especially as they let him be in charge.

“Okay, I’ve made some blanket forts in my day, but this one is pretty cool,” James said. 

“That’s because Penelope has about eight million blankets and they’re all soft as baby puppies,” Emily said as she crawled into the fort. “I claim the blue pillow!”

All five of them fit comfortably inside, the interior lit with a string of battery operated fairy lights, also taken from Penelope’s room. Spencer nestled himself between Hotch and Emily. “Are we going to tell Penelope that we borrowed all of her stuff?” he asked. 

Hotch handed him his favorite blanket. “I think if we leave the fort up till she gets back, she won’t mind as long as she gets to hang out in here,” he said. 

“What should we do?” Dave asked. “Power’s still out, and there’s no wifi either.”

“Oh!” Emily said. “Okay, I’ve been trying to get you to listen to this album for weeks. Now is the perfect time! You’re a captive audience.”

They took turns passing each other’s phones back and forth, listening to different songs in the comfort of the handmade blanket fort, playfully arguing over each other’s tastes in music as the warm glow of the fairy lights cast soft shadows. Spencer seemed a little less tense now, snuggled safely between Hotch and Emily with his blanket hugged to his chest.

She hadn’t kept track of time, but it was at least two hours before the power switched back on, the overhead lights suddenly way too bright after the dimmness of the tent. “There we go,” Dave said, sitting up and checking his phone. “And we’ve got signal again!” He stretched his arm over James and Emily to hold out the phone to Spencer. “Here, passerotto, see if you can call Alex.”

He took it eagerly and tapped at the screen to bring up her info, but his excitement faded almost instantly. “It went right to voicemail,” he said. “Thanks anyway.”

James scrambled ungracefully to his feet. “Hey, since the power’s back, who wants to watch a movie?” he said. 

“Not a Star War, please,” Emily called. “I can’t tell any of them apart.”

Hotch propped himself up on his elbow. “Hey, Spence,” he said. “It’s okay. I’m sure Alex is fine.”

“Yeah,” Spencer said. He turned to Hotch, one corner of his mouth tugging up in a rueful little half smile. “I bet her flight got canceled too. It’s okay.”

James flipped the overhead lights off, leaving them back in the glow of the candles and the string lights, and crawled back into the fort with the remote in his hand. “All right, if anyone has objections, y’all can get up yourself and change it,” he said.

Emily settled back as the movie started. Spencer was quiet beside her, but after a while he rolled over onto his stomach, his forehead pressed against Hotch’s arm and his blanket tangled around his legs, and she smiled when she heard his first little snore.

“Hotchner,” she whispered. “This blanket fort idea was genius.”

Hotch grinned. “Sean made me make one for him while I was home,” he said. “I figured Spencer might like it too.” He paused. “Is he asleep?” Emily nodded. “Thank god.”

James sat up and pushed his hair out of his eyes. “Guys, I still haven’t heard from Alex,” he said. “It’s still going right to voicemail when I call her and she hasn’t answered any texts.”

“Maybe her signal’s out too,” Dave said. “Don’t worry about it. Alex can take care of herself.”

James pouted. “Yeah, but...I might be a little worried about her,” he said. “It’s not like her to not answer.”

“Awww, you miss your girlfriend,” Emily teased. 

“I do! I do miss her!” James said. 

“Guys, if any of you wake up Spencer, I will murder you,” Hotch hissed. 

“I’m sorry!” James whispered back. “I just- I think I need to be worried about Alex.”

Suddenly a familiar person knelt down and leaned into the tent. “You’re worried about me?” Alex said, her long red hair hanging loose around her shoulders. “That’s so sweet!”

James scrambled up, smacking Dave in the face in his haste. “Oh my god, I missed you!” he said. He tugged her closer, cupping her face in his hands, and kissed her deeply. “Oh my god. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she laughed, running her fingers through his hair. “My phone died and I didn’t pack any of my portable chargers in my carryon. Where’s everybody else?”

“Everybody’s flights are delayed,” Emily said. “Spencer’s been beside himself.”

“Oh, poor thing,” she said. “Is he sleeping? I don’t want to wake him up.”

“Yeah, he just dozed off,” Hotch said. “He’s going to be so relieved to see you.”

Emily scooted over to make room. “C’mere, the movie hasn’t been on for very long,” she said. 

“Hey!” James protested. “She’s my girlfriend, shouldn’t she be next to me?”

“Well, she’s my roommate, and I’ve had her for longer,” Emily said. Alex laughed as she settled between her and Spencer, busying herself with snuggling him against her side and tucking him in. Emily leaned over to whisper in James’s ear. “Besides, we all know you two are gonna go fool around the second you get a chance. You’ll get your quality time, don’t worry.”

Even in the dim light she could see him turn red. “What are you guys whispering about?” Alex asked. 

“Nothing!” James squeaked. Emily made a rude hand gesture and he smacked her arm. “Emily! Stop it!”

She snickered as she leaned her head against Alex’s shoulder. “How was your week being in charge?” Alex asked as she adjusted Spencer’s blanket around him.

“Could have been worse...could have been a lot better,” Emily said. “He was so sad. I’m not good with sad kids.”

“I’m sure you did great,” Alex reassured her.

The movie was almost over when Spencer began to shift and whimper in his sleep. “Is he okay?” Emily asked.

“He’s-” Hotch winced as Spencer kicked him in the shins. “Ow. Bad dream, I think.”

Alex sat up. “Okay, I’m going to wake him up,” she said. 

“Careful, he can be pretty feisty,” Hotch warned.

Alex stroked his hair back from his forehead as he tried to pull away from her. “Spencer, wake up,” she called gently, her hand resting on his chest. “Come on, darling.”

She kept coaxing him until his eyes finally opened. “What’s going on?” he mumbled.

“You had a bad dream,” she said. 

He blinked. “Alex?” he said sleepily. “Did your plane land safely?”

Hotch laughed. “Yeah, kiddo, her plane landed safely,” he said. “Get the sleep out of your eyes.”

Spencer rubbed his face and blinked again. “Alex!” he yelped, throwing himself into her arms. 

“Hi, baby,” she said. “Did you miss me?”

“A little bit,” he said, tilting his face so she could kiss his cheek. “Was your flight okay? Was there a lot of turbulence?”

“Everything was fine,” she reassured him as she cuddled him against her side. “Now, sh, I think Dave is getting invested in the movie.”

“No, I’m not,” he said absently.

“Yes, he is,” Emily teased.

Spencer settled down with his head on Alex’s knees; Hotch tugged his blanket around him. “Everybody else will be here tomorrow,” he said. “Penelope’s connecting flight got canceled, and Derek’s got canceled, and JJ’s parents rescheduled her.”

“That’s good,” she said, stroking her fingers through his hair. “Go back to sleep, darling. You look so tired. And everything’s going to be okay, nothing to worry about.”

The rain had settled back into a light tapping on the window; the thunder and lightning had long since stopped. Emily leaned back against her pillows, smiling in contented relief. Alex was right. Everything was going to be okay.

[magalidragon]

Ice is Hot Too | another drabble

Woooot, back to Madam Dany we go-- this is another drabble in the Ice is Hot Too universe, in the drabble collection Frostbite and Burns.  It’s in answer to an ask from @aenarsnow​ that I did NOT forget about, but I accidentally answered it so I can’t find the ask anymore, lol, but I did remember it!  It’s for the prompt “Prove it” and is spicy spice.  

This is set after the angst-filled drabble “Melting” I did for these beans, which is why it is sexy and also ends with some fluffy happiness.  But no, Robb isn’t in this one, maybe the next one, lol, I just love this GIF.

Jon Snow was annoying her.

She was furious with him.  Furious that he dared leave their house this morning looking the way he looked, all beautiful in his crisp tailored gray suit, his boots shiny and his curls luscious.  Furious he smelled like the mix of spearmint gum, faint scent of his e-cigarette, and the pine fresh of his shampoo.  Furious he hadn’t tugged those curls back into the knot he usually kept them in at work and they hung free around his fine face, his beard dark and rather messy as he hadn’t been to the barber for a cleanup in a week or so.  

There was also the drawl in his voice, the burr of his accent, when he spoke with Missy, Tyrion, Varys, and the other members of the company.  She left the room at one point, too annoyed to carry on.  There was the other time when he’d had to call a couple clients, dress them down for trying to pressure the boys into sexual conduct when they were not within any rights to do so if they didn’t want to.  He was so firm with them, but polite, and of course they apologized.  They just really loved her boys, after all.

She sulked, waiting for him to finish, for everyone to leave, and the door to close behind Missy, who smirked at her knowingly.  She cocked her head at her best friend, appalled she would think such things.  Who am I kidding, she knows us too well.

Jon glanced over at her across the conference room table.  She didn’t like coming to the main offices here at the tower in downtown Kings Landing, she preferred the darkness of her lair in the Dragonpit.  “I think that went well,” he said, closing his laptop.  “And we’ve secured the generous donation from Olenna too.”  He scowled.  “I’ll have to thank Robb for that one.  No doubt he convinced Margaery to convince her.”

“Hmm.”

“Before I forget, we have Arry’s school play tonight.”  He beamed, proud father that he was.  “She’s so excited, she gets to play Aegon the Conqueror.”

“Hmm.”

He glanced sideways, brow furrowing.  “What’s your problem?  You’ve been bratty all afternoon.”

“Do you ever get sick of the sound of your own voice?” she snapped.  She couldn’t explain why she was just so testy. Her mood had been shifting so rapidly lately.  Nothing made her happy.  Everything pissed her off.  She’d fucking cried when Jorah had to stop the car this morning because a fucking deer jumped across the road.

He drew back, lip curling, wolf-like.  “Do you?”

“No.”

He pushed his laptop and folders aside, drawing himself up, walking around the edge of the table, advancing on her.  “You’ve been pissy.  You want me to make you feel better?”

“You can’t,” she huffed; she wasn’t sure why.  She crossed her legs, her heel dangling off her foot.  She scowled up at him.  He was part of the problem; he couldn’t make her feel better.  Looking the way he looked.  Talking the way he talked.  She slouched further in her seat.  

“I bet I can.”

She eyed him.  “Oh?”

“Hmm,” it was his turn to murmur.  He reached up for his tie, loosening it.  He slipped his jacket off, neatly hanging it on an opposite chair and yanked off the tie.  He set it down over the jacket.  In his crisp black shirt and suspenders, he looked good enough to eat.  He smiled again, wolfish, and knelt in front of her.  He pushed her knees apart.  “I think I can.”

“Prove it,” she sneered.  

His fingers danced along her legs, reaching under her skirt.  He snapped her garters, the clasps stinging her bare skin.  She shivered but gave him no satisfaction.  He leaned down, kissing the inside of her calf, slowly stroking along the underside of her legs.  “You were like this last night too,” he murmured, his gray eyes fixed on hers, unblinking.  “Care to share?”

“No,” she pouted.  It was so stupid and she hated herself for feeling like such a foolish girl.  She sniffed at him.  “Are you going to get to it?”

“My, my, my, the dragon really is upset.”

“Put your tongue to good use then and stop talking.”

So he did.  It was never the same, she would give him that much, sliding in the chair as he teased her.  That tongue of his should come with a warning label, perhaps even a patent on it.  She needed to trademark it.  She wasn’t sure how he did it, his fingers tight on the insides of her thighs, holding her apart, one of her legs hiked up and resting on the table, the other over the arm of the chair, one heel off and the other scraping atop the glass tabletop.  She grabbed hold of her knee, for something to hold, to dig her fingers into, while her other hand clutched his curls.  She babbled in Valyrian, almost begging him, but staved off—he knew what those words meant, and she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.  

“Jon,” she exclaimed, when he edged off of her, she cried, tears trickling down the corners of her eyes, furious with herself.  He toyed with her, over and over, almost to the brink before he rocked back on his heels, licked his lips like the wolf finishing his dinner, and then dove back in again.  When his fingers joined, she couldn’t handle it, fucking his hand and riding at his face, almost slipping clear off the chair to the floor.

He moaned against her cunt, working her over, jaw moving as he suckled her clit and fucked her with his tongue, drinking up all her desire for him, and crooking his fingers along her silken walls, searching along the nerves for the ones that would send her flying.  He certainly did, her climax hard, brutal, and smothering out any sound she could make, her eyes clenched shut as she came.  

Then the tears came, but she didn’t know why.  She slipped right off the chair into his arms, sobbing against him.  “I hate you,” she mumbled into his shirt, wiping her eyes with the lapels.  “And I don’t know why, because I love you too.”

He gathered her in his arms, kissing her hair.  “I love you too, you’re just tired, come on.  You’re working too hard.”

She sniffed, attributing the strange mix of her emotions to that.  He helped her up, back into her shoes, her stockings shoved into the pocket of his suit jacket.  She leaned against him, her knees a little wobbly still.  “You proved it,” she mumbled, trying not to smile.  

He smirked.  “Thought I did.”

They left the conference room, Tyrion giving her a disgusted look, while Missandei just shook her head.  Her best friend walked with them, passing her a small shopping bag.  “I took the liberty of stopping at the drugstore and picking you up something…might make you feel better.”

“Thanks Missy.”  Dany didn’t think much of it, until they got home.  She wondered what it was.  Just some aspirin?  She opened the bag, staring into it, eyes wide.  Oh fuck.

Several minutes later, she stared at the object in her hand.  She smiled to herself, tears trickling down her face.  She hadn’t allowed herself to think it again.  Just in case…well…in case it happened again.  Why did they call this?  A rainbow baby, she thought with a watery smile, her hand pressing to her belly.  She took a deep breath and towed the test away, going to lay down.  She had to think about some things.  And they had a play to attend.

That night, after tucking Arry in, she went back to her room, Jon taking off his watch and sitting on the edge of the bed.  “She go down easy?  She was exhausted.”

“Hmm.”  She crawled across their big bed to him, kissing his shoulder, whispering.  “I love you.”

He smirked.  “Yeah?  What’d you say to me earlier?  Prove it.”

“Oh I think I can.”  She reached for the nightstand and took out the box, leaning over and dropping it into his hands.  

It took him a moment to realize what it was.  He whipped his head up, eyes wide, smile beaming.  “Really?”

“Really,” she giggled, pulling him down onto her.  “Now prove to your baby mama that you love me, Jon Snow.”

He laughed, kissing her hard.  “Oh I certainly will.”

[whentherewerebicycles]

good morning! I got up around 7 and have been course planning in bed since then.

I was telling @bottleupandexplode earlier that the one silver lining of virtual hell year is that it forced me to create incredibly detailed, well-organized lesson plans and activity materials. I had set aside multiple long days for course planning this month because I’m so used to having to sift through scattered, fragmentary notes-to-self to try to reconstruct what I did the previous semester. but I read through my past stuff just now and was surprised by how organized and complete things feel already.

this morning I created a rough fall syllabus with readings, model projects, and proposed speakers for each date. I also made an initial list of the “mini-lessons” I want to weave into different activities, which I can refer to once I actually get into lesson planning.

for syllabus stuff I still need to:

finalize and format the syllabus

upload all readings, materials, and resources to Google Drive

review and update the learning outcomes

contact the former fellows who are going to be guest speakers [my tentative plan is to have us study the speakers’ projects in advance, then to have them do a short moderated conversation and Q&A about their research practice and experience, then maybe to put them in groups and have them do the activities alongside the current fellows, so the current fellows get to know them a little better (and might feel more comfortable reaching out for advice). they’re getting paid for all of this so I don’t feel guilty about asking them to do some extra stuff!]

after completing the rough schedule I spent a lot of time brainstorming some system and process level stuff (especially around feedback) that I want to tweak or add in order to address some issues that came up last year. I still need to figure out the logistics of how I’m implement those changes but I think it’ll just take an afternoon of experimenting to figure it out.

hmm and I will have to devote a few hours this month to updating and moving all of last year’s resources from the program handbook to the Google drive folder. I also need to create some new resources now that I have examples to draw in from last year’s student work (note to self: email to ask about using grad app SOPs and cover letters).

all in all though I’m in really good shape for the first week of August! I might come back to planning work later this afternoon, but for now I’m going to close this morning work session by making a running course prep to-do list. then I’m gonna write!

[revengeoftheantichrist]

What Kind of Man

Warnings: recovering from injury, possessive behaviour    AO3  <<<Previous

Chapter 6: Haze

You woke to the sensation of someone running their fingers through your hair. Slowly opening your eyes; it must have been the afternoon. You don’t remember going to bed. You started to whimper; your leg hurt so much. Why did it hurt? What happened while you wandered the halls? “Shh shh my love, it’s alright, you’ll be better soon,” cooed the voice. You looked up, confused, why was Michael here? “M- Michael, why are you here a day early? Did something happen?” you questioned. As you tried to get up, the pain in your leg shot through you, bringing tears to your eyes. He gently pushed you back down, wiping the tears. “It’s Friday my dear,” he stated. “What do you mean its Friday? I went for a walk on Monday. And why does my leg hurt?” the questions just spilled out of you. Michael lay next to you, holding your hand in his, stroking it with his thumb. Just feeling the warmth again calmed you down a little. “I arrived on Wednesday,” he started. “Mrs Mead found you in the servants’ hallway on Monday night. You had collapsed from your fever and set fire to your night gown in the process. The fire was put out, but …” he hesitated. “your leg has been burnt a little.” A wave of nausea hit you. You finally looked down to your leg, it was wrapped in gauze. As you looked you felt the pain get worse, finally acknowledging your injury. “The shock and the fever combined had you out cold for a few days. You did wake occasionally, albeit you were a little delirious.” “H-How bad is it?” you asked. “second degree nearer to your foot, first up to your thigh. Mrs Mead had put you out very quickly. The physician is due to visit today to check the progress, to see if it’ll scar or not,” he explained. You started to cry. From the pain, from the fever, from the turn your fate seemed to have taken since you married this man. Why had the universe been so cruel to you? Who had you wronged? Had you done something in your past life and was this your punishment? He pulled you into his chest, warm arms enveloping you. He stroked his fingers through your forehead, letting you sob into him wholeheartedly. “I want to se my m-mother,” you cried. “Oh little dove, I was already on my way back before any letters could reach me. You know I would have brought her with me if I could, I’d give you the moon if u asked.” You cried until you tired out, but the pain was still unbearable. You just wanted to be held and to sleep. “No sleeping for you Mrs Langdon, you need to eat something before you put your head down again,” Michael stated. As if on que, Mrs Mead came in with a tray of food. A hearty soup and some bread, the same as before. “Dinner time seems to be the crying hour for you,” she joked. You pressed you face further into Michaels chest, embarrassed at her observation. She set the tray down and left, leaving just you and your husband. He rearranged the pillows so you could sit up comfortably and brought you meal over. As you reached for your soup, he slapped your hand away. “You’re sick, I’ll help you.” “Michael, my leg is burnt, not my hands,” you stated. “That is of no concern to me, now say ‘ahh’,” he replied, holding the spoon up to you. You hesitated and looked away before opening your mouth. You knew he wasn’t about to take no for an answer. He fed you the rest of the meal; time flew as you asked about his trip, wanting to take your mind off the pain. //// You had fallen asleep again by the time the doctor had arrived. Woken by a cold press on your forehead, your fever had returned. “Good afternoon Lady Langdon, its nice to see you finally awake. I’m Dr Montgomery and it’s a pleasure to meet you,” he introduced. You could only nod in reply, the pain making you unable to speak. “I’ve already checked your leg; Medina has changed the dressing. I suggest bed rest until next week. The wound will take a few weeks to fully heal; you’re extremely lucky, the wound isn’t too deep so scarring will be minimal,” he finished. “Will it still hurt?” you asked. “Your pain should reduce in a few days, however your fever is making it feel worse, so I have prescribed some Laudanum. All I can suggest for your illness is rest, and that too shall pass.” “Why am I sick?” you asked again. Dr Montgomery sighed, “It isn’t uncommon in new brides. Especially moving from the south to the north. It’s a sort of homesickness. The faster you get accustomed to the temperature and new surroundings, the better.” Something deep in your gut told you that he was lying, your sickness was caused by something else. And what about your nightmares? What could explain those? A simple fever could not be the culprit. But you kept your mouth shut, this man was not to be trusted. He left you alone with Medina, and you drifted off again. //// The laudanum was helping with the pain, but the constant daze it kept you in frustrated you. Michael had moved his office into your room for now to keep an eye on you; you had tried to leave the room far too many times to leave you unattended. The rustling of paper and the scratch of the pen remined you that you were being watched. Despite that, you still tried to get out of bed. “How many times do you have to be put back in bed?” you heard from the other side of the room. His tone was stern. “I’m getting sick of staying in bed all day,” you slurred out. Michael sighed and walked over to you. He lifted you and carried you over to his desk, sitting down and placing you in his lap. “There, now you’re not in bed.” You couldn’t bring yourself to feel embarrassed. He adjusted you so the pair of you were comfortable. The scratching of the pen starting again. “what are you doing,” you asked. “I’m finalising plans for a trip.” “You’re leaving again?” “I’m taking you with me. Once your leg is healed enough, we’ll be going to Paris,” he smiled at you. Paris. How you hated the sound of that city. Your brother’s stories echoing through your head, the anger breaking through the haze of the medication. “I don’t want to go.” “Why not, it’ll be our honeymoon and it truly is a beautiful city, quite romantic at night.” You answered before you could stop yourself, “of course you’d know all about the city at night.” Michael stopped writing, putting his pen down and inhaling. “And what do you mean by that hmm?” “Nothing,” you replied, you could feel the rage building inside him. He grabbed your face, making you look up at him. “Answer me properly. What are you talking about?” “My brother spoke about your grand tour,” you mumbled. His nostrils flared and his grip on your jaw tightened enough to bruise. The drugs only allowed you the feel the pressure and not the pain that would have come with such a tight grip. You winced anyway. “Gabriel needs his tongue cut out it seems.” “Sho itsh all true then?” you tried to get out, he was still squishing your cheeks. He finally let go of your face. Pushing your hair from your face and stroking your jaw instead. “I am a changed man Y/N. I was a different person two years ago. I was young and unmarried. I’d be a fool to betray you in such a way,” he sighed. “I’d kill you if your ever did,” you smiled at him, the Laudanum seemed to have removed all filters, making you say what was on your mind. You lightly pecked his lips, settling into his chest for another nap. //// You had been given the clear for your bandages to come off, and your fever had gone. You decided to have a bath while you were alone for the first time in almost two weeks. The water was a little cooler than you would have liked it to be, but you didn’t want to agitate your burns. You tried to relax, thinking about the past few weeks of your life. You had been married almost a month now. There was a sense of foreboding before you walked down the aisle that day; every single event since has just made it worse. The nightmares, Michael’s volatile attitude, the painting and now being scarred for life; it all weighed heavy on you. You think that you might be driven insane, or maybe even killed. You didn’t know. would you even last the year? The painting. You had forgotten about it in all the commotion. It had scared you enough to almost die. Why was Michael’s mothers face painted over? Did he want to forget her? Your thoughts stopped in their tracks as the feeling of being watched overwhelmed you. Just like the first night you were here. You got out of the tub, carefully drying yourself off before heading to the dressing room. //// The dressing room was cold as usual, making goose bumps rise all over your skin. You caught a glimpse of your scar in the mirror, moving your robe aside to get a closer look. It started just above your ankle, all the way up to your outer hip. You let your robe hang loosely around your shoulders, as you untied it to inspect the top of the scar. The skin there was sensitive, it felt different to the healthy skin around it. It made you a little self-conscious. No one would ever see it, but you would always know it was there, a reminder of the fear you let overcome you, of your fragile state of mind. You felt weak, so far from the girl you used to be. Your reputation in the local area of your home was one of an intelligent and brave girl, a tongue so sharp that even the priest had banned you from attending church on occasions. But here you were now, pathetic, letting your dreams out of all things, control your actions. “it seems that Aphrodite herself has blessed me with her presence today.” You quickly went to retie your robe and cover your leg, but Michael stopped you before you could. He rested his chin on your shoulder, looking at you through the mirror. His hair was damp, and he donned a robe; he must have had a bath too. His pulled your robe aside, exposing you leg to him. You wished he would never see it. “Don’t you see what I see? Does the mirror not show you the form that occupies my mind?” he asked, as he trailed his fingers over your scar, you almost wept at the tenderness of his touch. He let go of your waist, moving in front of you before he knelt down. “Michael! What are you doing? Get up from there please!” you cried out. This man, who many saw as a god, had knelt before you. He looked at you with a hunger and devotion seen in the faces of the worshippers in temples of the ancient world. He paid no mind to your distress. Instead moving to kiss your scar. He started at your ankle, looking up at you as he made his way up, leaving no part untouched. He stopped briefly to pull the stool behind you, making you sit down. Without a word, he started working his way up to the inside of your thighs, alternating between kisses and little bites. His actions ignited a fire in your belly. Making you shift around to alleviate some of the tension you were feeling. He stopped and rested his cheek on your thigh, you ran your fingers through his now dry hair. “There’s a hunger in me that only you can satiate,” he whispered. He pried your thighs apart, looking directly at your wet folds. “You wouldn’t be cruel enough to let me starve, now would you?” He ran his fingers through your wetness, making you moan and grip his hair. He hooked his arms around your thighs, pulling you towards his face. You had to hold the edge of the stool to stop yourself from falling back. He licked a broad stripe from your entrance to your clit. The sensation was so foreign to you, but you wanted more. He licked and sucked on your lips and clit, like a man truly starved. You felt his groans vibrating through you, bringing you closer to the edge. “M- Michael, that feels so good,” you moaned out. You could feel him smirk as you gripped his hair tighter, lightly scratching his scalp in appreciation. He dove in further, his nose pressed against you as he fucked you with his tongue. He felt you begin to tighten around him and moved up to suck on your clit, he looked you in the eyes as he brought you over the edge, licking you through your aftershocks. Both of you were breathing heavily as he finally pulled away, looking up at you with your juices covering the bottom half of his face. He got up and pulled you into a hungry kiss, tasting yourself on him. “You taste divine.” You could see his hardness through his robe. You averted your gaze, “can I return the favour? “My my, my little dove has gotten bolder hmm?” moving to make eye contact with you. “Some other time, I do not want to agitate the burn and I need to be inside you.” He pulled you from the stool, sitting down, before seating you on his lap to face the mirror. “I need you to see what I see,” he said, as he untied his robe, bringing out his dick and running it over the wetness of your folds. You mewled and tried not to look in the mirror. “Look at us as I push into you,” he ordered, “look at your greedy pussy swallowing me whole.” He pushed into you, making you watch as he did so, the sight making you wetter than before. He bottomed out with a groan and sat still. He brought your hand over your stomach, pressing it down. “Can you feel me inside you? I’m so deep.” You pressed further and made him hiss. He gripped your hips, lifting you up and down, you matched your pace with his. The pair of you mesmerised by the sight of the image in the mirror, the sight of him splitting you in half. You turned to kiss him, your tongues dancing as you picked up the pace. Neither of you lasted long, you were already sensitive from before; he was (you hoped) pent up from all those days away. The coil finally snapped, you squeezed around him with cries of his name. He followed behind, painting your insides with his seed. He pulled out and you both watched as your mixed fluids seeped out of you. “Look at yourself, you must be a goddess,” Michael stated. You looked at your fucked-out form in the mirror, lips swollen from kisses, hair mussed, and skin covered in a sheen of sweat from the exertion. In the haze of pleasure, you could almost mistake yourself for a carnal version of Botticelli’s ‘Venus’. You smiled at the thought. “We’ll need to bathe again,” you pointed out, making you and Michael laugh. //// You had your second bath of the day together. Getting ready for the evening; dinner would be served in your room as you needed to sleep early; you left for Paris tomorrow. Michael had brushed and braided your hair, and you had done the same for him. As you waited for MRs Mead to bring your meal, Michael had brought out a box, one that you had recognised. “Your mother sent this for you, your embroidery seems to be quite well known in the area and she was surprised you forgot to pack your materials.” Michael handed you the box. It was your grandmothers, then your mothers, and now it was yours. How had you forgotten your most prized possession? “Thank you so much Michael,” you hugged him. “It’s a family heirloom,” you explained, opening the compartments. You floss and needles were just as you left them. Michael reclined next to you, watching you inspect the item. “I’m sure it’ll continue to be passed down generations of Langdons,” he said. You blushed at the thought of children, you hadn’t given it much thought before. “I’ll take you to the finest cloth merchants Paris has to offer to get more materials for your liking,” he smiled at you. “I’m sure Mrs Venebale will know some locally?” “Nonsense. Why go to Paris if not to take full advantage of what the city has to offer? We can also see what the new seasons fashions are.” You raised your eyebrow, “I see, this tip is for you to dress yourself isn’t it?” “Well my love, the wardrobe does not curate itself. Personal shopping trips are must in high society,” he winked at you. You laughed and shook your head, thinking about your next project, trying to calm your nerves for the trip.

Next>>>

[melodious-madrigals]

“person A grows a beard; how does person B react?”  -wondertrev edition 

***

It's almost midnight, but Diana is just getting home. She's been on a business trip for the better part of a week, and is endlessly relieved to be back. She opens the door, already feeling the tension drain from her shoulders at the prospect of seeing Steve, and makes her way to their bedroom, where she suspects Steve will still be up, reading. 

She enters, drops her bags, and when she finally focuses on him, blinks in dismay. 

"What is that?"

Steve looks up from his novel. "Hello to you too."

Diana just stares at him in abject horror.

"Your face," she manages, inelegantly.  

"Oh," says Steve, reaching up and running a hand over the several day old stubble now adorning his chin. "Something new I'm trying."

"No." It falls out softly, reflexively, without her brain's permission, and immediately her hand comes up to cover her mouth. "Sorry," she says, at his amused look. "It's your body."

"How do you really feel?" Steve asks, mirth in his eyes. The war inside her is evident: she clearly hates the beard, and is also not willing to insert herself into his bodily autonomy, something she feels strongly about on every level. He chokes down a laugh at the expression on her face, tries not to betray how funny he finds the whole situation. 

"That it's your body, but I'm the one who has to look at it," she says finally, her bluntness winning. Steve's pretty sure it's a subtle mark of trust that she's willing to say it aloud. 

He's not offended in the slightest, and doesn't pretend to be. "Noted," he says, "So far it's working for me, but I'm still experimenting." 

"Hmm," Diana says, doing her best not to be too disapproving. She drops the subject, but takes another moment to glare at the beard before proceeding on to more normal conversation. 

*

"It's itchy," complains Diana the next day, as it scratches against her cheek in an unfamiliar way. 

"You're telling me," says Steve. "The first few days were hell." It was only after everything grew in that the itching stopped. 

Diana, trying hard not to be petulant in her dislike for Steve's beard, once again moves on, silencing her misgivings and resigning herself to the ticklish sensation of the scruff scraping across her face and neck when they kiss. She'll get used to it. 

Probably. 

*

Perhaps her vendetta against the beard would not be nearly so pronounced if there weren't so many people remarking on how much they like it. 

"Oh, Steve, you look so handsome," coos their eighty-something year old neighbor, Mme. Giraudet, when they run into each other in the hallway, and Diana bites her tongue as Steve grins and thanks her. 

"Your new beard suits you," comments Diana's colleague, Inès, when Steve stops by the Louvre for lunch one afternoon. The interns, meanwhile, titter amongst themselves, and Diana's sure they're also talking about the beard too, given that they gossip about everything else.

"Love the beard," says Arthur at the next Justice League meeting, and Diana huffs as they talk about the best trimming techniques and Arthur asks if Steve plans to grow it any longer. (The answer is no, thankfully.) 

"Maybe I should grow one too," says Barry thoughtfully, and Diana rolls her eyes, because Steve has officially crossed the line into bad influence. 

"I know an excellent styling product should you wish to give it a little panache," says Alfred, and under her breath Diana mumbles, "Don't encourage him." 

*

"You are lucky my skin heals so quickly," Diana grouses one evening, as she examines the inside of her thigh, where there's a light trail of irritated skin, already starting to fade. 

"Perk #327 of dating a literal goddess," Steve quips jovially. They both know her skin will be completely unmarred in the next quarter of an hour, as if there had never been even the slightest bit of beard burn. 

Diana shoots him a dirty look, vaguely annoyed at his flippancy and simultaneously charmed by his infectiously good mood. 

"Shall I take a look for you?" he asks, far too innocently. 

She can't help it; it makes her laugh. 

"Maybe I can kiss it better," he continues, as though that isn't exactly what precipitated this situation in the first place.

But honestly, the red is entirely faded now, and his smile makes her feel warm, as does the way his pupils are suddenly blown wide. She just might let him. 

*

It's been a couple of months since Steve grew the beard, and Diana has resigned herself to its permanence. He likes it, and there's no getting around that. 

So when Diana comes home one afternoon, she's treated to a proper shock, one that makes her freeze upon entering the room. Steve's focused on the computer, typing out an email, and she stands there staring at him an obscenely long time, because his beard is just...gone. 

"Your beard," she manages finally, slightly strangled. 

"Huh? Oh, yeah. I shaved it," says Steve absently, casual as anything—like he didn't care about it, like it wasn't secretly the bane of her existence—still focused on whatever he's writing. 

"You shaved it," she repeats faintly. 

"Eh, it stopped being exciting," he admits, then looks up at her. "Besides, you hated it. It was a little funny at first, but ultimately not worth it."

"Right," she echoes, "I hated it." 

He grins at her, soft and sweet, and closes the computer in front of him. 

"Seriously, I wasn't trying to torture you or anything. You know that, right?" 

Finally, something else that she can latch onto. She laughs at its absurdity. "Of course I do," she says. "A beard is hardly a torture device, no matter what I wanted you to think." 

She leans in to kiss him, and touches his face lightly as an anchor, taking a moment to feel the now-smooth skin of his jaw. He laughs, taking it as another retroactive indictment of his beard, when in fact it's anything but. 

She finds herself conflicted; she spent so much time thinking she hated his beard, and now that it's gone...she misses it. Objectively, it did look good on him—didn't soften his jaw too much or make him look scruffy in an unappealing way—and as much as she complained about the beard burn, it wasn't actually as annoying as she'd made it seem. In fact, it became a rough sensation she finds she may have liked, not that she'd admit it. And she liked how much he liked it, the way he smiled every time he decided that nah, I'm still keeping it for today, that she'd have to try to convince him to get rid of it tomorrow, instead. He clearly enjoyed having the beard. 

Which leaves her in a quandary: she can be silent, or she can set aside her pride and do an about-face on her opinion of the beard. 

"Steve," she says hesitantly. 

"Yes, Angel?" 

"I just...I do not want you to go without a beard because of me." There. Perhaps there's a middle path. 

"It really doesn't make that much difference to me; I'm happy to be clean shaven if it matters to you." (Or maybe there isn’t a middle way. Drat.)

"It doesn't, really," she admits, almost too softly to be heard. 

"What was that?" asks Steve, the sneaking start of a smile edging along the corners of his lips. Shit, he knows. She rarely gets anything by him, and today is no different; he knows her too well. 

"I did not really mind the beard, after all." 

Steve opens his mouth to say something, but Diana gets there first. 

"Not a single word," Diana warns, face hot.

"No, ma'am, not a one," agrees Steve, but his smirk—wide and mischievous and knowing—says it all. 

Oh, she's in for it. One way or another, that damn beard is going to be the death of her. 

***