#i sent a message there when forced twice in the last six months

[plantpages]

.

[whoizzzthatgirl]

PMA this is how we go, but life happens sometimes! It really does. I've never shared anything that I was going through last year. I didnt feel comfortable talking about it in public, only with the people I trust or with those who I know could come up with decent advise. I really appreciate each and everyone who participated in my journey and helped me along the way. My life story is really crazy, especially when it gets down my music path. I'll be unfolding this slowly, sharing my diary's notes throughout the year once I started working on my LP album. But here's a summary of what happened.

Long story short:

My name is Sana, and I am a proud mother to my 7-year-old daughter, Eva. I am an LA-based recording artist with a deep passion for my music.

A year ago, I began working on my debut LP album with music producer Gabor Z Varga. Everything was fine for the first month, but after that, it turned into a disaster. In short, he trapped me, forced me into a sexual encounter, physically assaulted me, causing injuries and the loss of teeth, crashed my car in the middle of the road, and broke into my house twice. The first time, he only scared my neighbors and damaged my property. He also falsely claimed to the police that I was in the country illegally, which is untrue. The second time, he came with a gun, threatened my friends, slapped one of them, stole my hard drives and laptop, and sent numerous threatening emails and text messages, including threats to my life and the safety of my daughter, Eva.

On one hand, it's a good  that I wasn't there because, if I had been, I might have been six feet underground now, given his intent to harm me, as he stated. On the other hand, I felt deeply concerned for my friends who were in the house at the time. He never apologized for anything and denied being at the house. 

He also falsely claimed my music as his and sold it to established artists. I won't name names, but these are individuals in the industry who may not fully understand the extent of his actions or choose to overlook them due to his talent.

I attempted to take legal action, but lawyers informed me that it would cost at least $20,000. I've already spent a significant amount of money on him, the production, dental and car repairs, moving, and resuming my life after this traumatic experience. I've also invested in creating my music video and preparing for its release. This has been particularly challenging as a single mom in LA, where the cost of living is high.

Despite the challenges, I am determined to seek justice for what Gabor has done and help other artists facing similar situations. My goal is to guide them through the necessary steps, providing both emotional and financial support. Together, we can bring about change in the industry. The music industry needs a global transformation, and I'm committed to making it happen. 

I kindly ask for your support on my journey, alongside other artists in LA and around the world who need assistance but can't escape their difficult situations or speak out against predators. Together, we can make a difference.

Love and peace to all.

[hyungieyoongi]

Epilogue: “Run Away to You” Part 7

To the person who never stopped supporting and loving me, even when I ran away from him – I promise from now on to always run away to you.

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Former Actress!Reader

Word Count: 1.6K

Genre: Angst (if you squint) + Fluff (nobody look at me I’m so soft)

Warning: Brief mention of reader’s panic attacks and mental health

Series Masterlist: Run Away to You

Premise: You ran away from your acting career one year ago, disappearing from the spotlight without a trace. No one from your past life knew where to find you. On the anniversary of your disappearance, your carefully constructed reality is shattered.

Part 6 \\

--- 

One year later...

You stood in the wings to the right of the stage, watching Yoongi stand side-by-side with his fellow members as they took their final bow. The love and energy from ARMY was overwhelming, your heart swelling with pride as you saw the look of pure happiness radiating from Yoongi and the rest of the boys.

BTS had held a series of surprise concerts in the past couple of months, and tonight was the last one in Seoul. Yoongi had made sure you attended each one with him, no matter where it was in the world. He told you he had always wanted to travel with you.

You looked out into the stadium, ARMY bombs lighting up the seats, illuminating the arena with a wash of purple light. You smiled, tears coming to your eyes at the beauty of it all.

As you took in the sight, you couldn’t help but reminisce on the past few months with Yoongi and everything you both went through to get to this moment.

You had been honest with the world in your video, explaining that you had to step away from your career for your mental health. You opened up about dealing with panic attacks and the toxic pressure of the acting industry. You explained how you needed to get your creativity and passion back for new projects by disappearing for a little while. There were so many people who had sent you messages of love and support, welcoming you back with positivity and warmth.

But the other side was picking you apart relentlessly. They accused you of trying to use Yoongi to get back into the spotlight now that you had gotten tired of living the “normal” life. They were saying that the pictures of you and Yoongi were all a ploy to get attention to restart your acting career.

If only they knew how much trouble those pictures had caused you.

You remember how you found it ironic how much the first few weeks of your life back in the public eye were so like your life when you first went into hiding. Moving into a new apartment, donning baseball hats and masks whenever you stepped outside, the threat of unwanted and uncontrolled publicity controlling your every move.

You had to have security with you, especially in the early days. The press wanted to get the scoop on your disappearance and your time with Yoongi, often flanking you with cameras if you popped out to get a coffee or go to the store.

Yoongi’s label put out an official statement to explain away the potential romantic implications of the picture, saying that the two of you knew each other from your time in the business and you were “old friends.” They cautioned the two of you to avoid being seen alone together in public, but Yoongi put his foot down, telling the label that you were not going to be hidden away forever.

Your publishing company was thrilled to hear that you no longer wanted to publish your book under a pseudonym; your name recognition was guaranteed to start a buzz around your upcoming release. Yoongi would often try to peak over your shoulder when you were working together, trying to read what you were writing. You would tease him, telling him he had to wait to read it just like everyone else.

Not to mention you were a little nervous to tell him that the story that you were writing was not-so-loosely inspired by your own relationship with him.

Navigating the public world again was made better by having Yoongi there with you, albeit privately at first. You would often have dinner with the boys or go watch Yoongi rehearse when you weren’t in editorial meetings or writing your book.  

Being in love with him again had been the easy part.

The harder part was the conversations late at night about when and how you wanted to go public. You both were trying to balance the needs of his job as an idol with your timidness over putting too much of yourself back out there too soon. You were attempting to show the world your genuine personality this time around. There was no production company to impress or an acting job that was dependent on your popularity; you were just hopeful that his fans would be more receptive to your relationship if they already felt like they knew the real you. You never wanted to go back to feeling like you were suffocating under the weight of the pressure.

You decided as a couple on a deadline – six months. After six months of dating privately, you had to decide whether you wanted to be together publicly.

Yoongi came to your apartment six months later, looking pale with nerves and a bouquet of your favorite flowers in his hands. You hadn’t spoken over the past two days, wanting to give each other the space to decide what was best on your own.

You told him you had already made your choice the night when you went to dinner with him and the boys at his apartment – you weren’t about to change your mind. He carelessly dropped the flowers on the ground, sweeping you up into his arms.

You both knew that you would face backlash, maybe even some hate, but you were stronger together than apart. He was it for you, and you weren’t going to let him go just like he promised you he wouldn’t. It hadn’t been easy, but it certainly was worth it.

You turned your head to watch as the boys waved goodbye, exiting stage right and stage left. Yoongi walked toward the side of the stage with purpose, eyes alight with adrenaline. You smiled brightly at him, his arms coming around you as he practically collided with you, head landing between your shoulder and neck as he breathed out heavily. Your hands instinctively went to his head, running your hands through his slightly sweaty locks as his heart rate came down from the high of the concert.

“You were amazing, Yoongs,” you told him. He leaned back, placing a firm kiss on your lips, surprising you. When he pulled back you were greeted with a gummy smile. Staff started to flutter around you, dabbing Yoongi with a towel and handing him an open bottle of water. You stepped away to let them through, not wanting to interfere with their jobs. Before you could move too far away, his hand reached through the bodies surrounding him, searching for your own. You wrapped your fingers around his, Yoongi using the grip to pull you back to be closer to him.

The staff adjusted to your presence again, shuffling you both along toward his dressing room. Intertwining your fingers with his, he brought your hand up to his lips, kissing the back of your knuckles. You thought you saw Jin amidst the flurry of activity, hearing a distinctive laugh that you were pretty positive was directed toward the blatant show of public affection between yourself and Yoongi since he got off the stage.

With how lucky you felt in that moment, you couldn’t seem to find it in yourself to care.

---

“Remember, I warned you that you might not like the book. I was dealing with a lot when I started writing it, and I promise I changed the characters enough. Only you or I will even notice the similarities. I mean, the characters get a happy ending and so did we, but…” you were rambling, your newly printed hard copy gripped firmly in your hands. 

A week after his final surprise concert wrapped, you had come over to Yoongi’s apartment to gift him the copy of your book you had promised him, but you were reluctant to actually let it go. Yoongi was trying – and failing – to get it from you, leaning back with an exasperated sigh when he realized you weren’t going to budge.

“We have been dating for over a year now, Y/N, I think I can handle the fictional book version of our relationship,” Yoongi said, rolling his eyes in annoyance.

“But it might bring up old memories. Bad memories,” you said quietly, averting your eyes. Yoongi propped your chin up with his index finger forcing you to look at him.

“Stop worrying so much. Our past is the reason why we are together now. I’m not scared of it anymore,” Yoongi admitted with a nonchalant shrug. Your cheeks burned, Yoongi chuckling at your pink face before kissing you sweetly. Even after all this time, you still became flustered at his romantic gestures.

You finally handed the book over.

“You should probably check the dedication page first,” you murmured, slightly embarrassed. Yoongi’s lips quirked up in a smirk, slowly flipping to the dedication page in the copy of your book in his hands. His expression changed to something unreadable and soft as he read the words dedicated to him:

To the person who never stopped supporting and loving me, even when I ran away from him – I promise from now on to always run away to you.

I love you.

You held your breath as you watched him read the page twice, your knee jumping up and down in nervous anticipation. Yoongi put his hand on your knee, stopping your movements. He leaned forward, your book still in his other hand. You felt yourself instinctively move closer to him, seeming to melt into his warmth.

“I love you, too,” he whispered into your ear.

He would always be your happy ending.

Part 6 \\

---

To everyone who read and followed along with this fic – it has meant so much to me to have people read this little series of mine and interact with it. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart. 

Taglist: @loveyoongles​​​ @agustd-2020​​​ @delacyrose224​​​ @sunshinejunghoseokie​​​ @jinsearthh​​​ @alpacaparkaseok​​​ @sheebaba​​​ @diamonddia-mond​​​ @dearyoongii​​​ @tarahardcore​​​ @kawaiiixchan

Check out my other work! ❤️

[batarella]

3 birds 1 stone - BLUE

From a world once so cruel, that never seemed to have granted them the time enough to be together, it’d never built up into anything more perfect.

WORDS: 7785 WARNINGS: Sexual Content

MASTERLIST | 3 BIRDS 1 STONE MASTERLIST | RED | YELLOW

-----

Dick:

It was concerning how at the moment he stepped into the narrow elevator, he wasn’t the least bit surprised at the pile of animal shit at the corner. It wasn’t until the doors closed when he noticed it, or rather his nose did, and he had to clog his nostrils just so he doesn’t pass out on the floor.

“Gar!?” he yelled just as the doors opened. No one was there, save for Raven with a book sitting at the couch. She didn’t glance at him. “Gar, I swear if you took a shit in the elevato-“

“That wasn’t me!”

Gar’s voice came from the kitchen, panting and occupied with something unruly. Then he heard plates falling to the floor, breaking, then there was a whimper. Not one that came from a human.

“Then who was it!?”

His question was soon answered, when a dog, a brown-furred mutt, sprinted out into the living room with a strip of bacon lodged in its teeth. “Gar!”

“I told you!”

Gar came out of the kitchen with a leash that had been ripped. “It wasn’t me!”

“You brought a dog into the tower?!”

“It was hungry!”

The mutt had finished off the bacon and headed straight for Raven’s lap. She gave it a scratch under its ear.

“Not on the couch,” Dick said.

“But Dick-“

“You’re not allowed on the couch either,” he told Gar. The boy murmured something Dick couldn’t hear, and after a second, no longer was he a boy but a green parrot. It squealed against Dick’s ear before it flew to Raven’s book.

“Jesus-“ he rubbed his ear. “I’m not in the mood.”

“SQUAWK-,” the parrot said. “WHAT’S UP WITH YOU?”

Having some coherent answer to that would only cement it as some grueling reminder. Hell, even thinking about it hurts more than the coward’s way out of pretending the past year never even happened. But then again, here he was, back in the Titan’s Tower to escape from the love of his life he could never be with and force himself into this infernal damnation of having forever to get over her. Here. Thousands of miles away. Where he’d only have his thoughts to battle and nothing else.

But all he said was: “Nothing.”

Dick should have told her, at least. Given her that kind of closure instead of his current disappearing act without so much as a note or a text or even a notice memo at the manor’s announcement board, which Alfred insisted with there being eight kids around.

But being away will be good. For her. For him. The first step to moving on. And with that, cutting all ties. Make it hurt less for both of them.

Maybe not all ties. He’ll have to go back to Gotham soon enough. But at least he was trying something. Not like the past five, six, seven years. God, has it really been that long?

She was probably over at Tim’s office, or Jason’s apartment doing whatever. Thinking about it won't do him any good. Doesn’t mean he subconsciously won’t.

It was apparent, and out into full consciousness, when he pulled out his phone and saw her name in five missed calls, with voice messages she’s left behind. A whole lot of minutes of them, too, it seems. She’d called while he was on the plane.

He could listen to them. Hear her voice one last time. Let his mind trail away. God, he was pathetic.

Dick put it up to his ear, his other hand stuffed to his pockets as he went out to the tower’s highest balcony so at least the air wasn’t so stuffy and he wouldn’t choke so much.

He wasn’t even nervous when he heard her speak. “Hey, Dick.”

A plane. A helicopter. Some folks over at the apartment building nearby partying it out. At least he’d have something to look at. He was exhausted, too. It was eight am over at Gotham. Shouldn’t have taken the overnight flight.

“You weren’t at the manor. I tried calling there first. I wanted to see you. Call me when you get this?”

He might. After he listens to the four other messages she’d left behind.

“Hey. I know it’s only been an hour. But please call me.”

Another one.

“Dick, where are you? I hope you didn’t change your phone. or I’ll look stupid leaving all these messages behind, which I’m not about to stop doing. Call me. Please. No one knows where you are but no one’s panicking either. It’s worrying me.”

Next one. From another hour after. He’d been gone a little over ten hours since he left. If Bruce didn’t have a tracker on him, they’d have called the police by now. But he highly doubted Bruce would take the time to announce his little trip to the West Coast to everyone in the house.

“Dick, if this is you ignoring me, you’re doing a hell of a good job at it. Did I do something?”

He heard her huff over the phone. No one else seemed to be around her.

“Please, I just wanna talk. Call me.”

The last one. Sent just four hours ago, which meant she’d been awake at four in the morning.

And, on top of that, the last one was five whole minutes long.

A call to tell her she was dating Tim again? Explaining how there are no hard feelings? Catch a movie sometime? An ass of him to think she’d be that cruel, but he was jetlagged and exhausted and the smell of dog shit still hadn’t left, which could be explained because that mutt had made a home just a few feet away from where he stood.

Dick played the message despite all that. Even if she called to tell him she’s getting married. He’d answer it.

“Dick…”

He could hear the rain, sheets shuffling under her feet.

“I’m sorry…” she said. “I… I probably took too long… I guess, if you’re ignoring me, you still deserve to know. I hope you get this message. I’ll tell you now, I guess. So you won't have to respond if you don’t want to.”

Tears. He could hear her wipe them off her skin.

“I kept you waiting for… I wanna say months but it’s a lot longer than that. Years… God, and I didn’t even see it… I took too long trying to figure this all out for myself, and you just kept waiting for me. No one should be worth waiting for that long.”

He was laughing as if it were one of her god-awful jokes. Funnily enough, it was worth it. Even when it sent him nowhere in the end. All that waiting was worth it. Somehow.

“Which is why I don’t blame you. Because you shouldn’t have taken this long. I thought even if I took another few weeks before I’d have enough courage to finally ask you to be mine, you’d still be there waiting for me. Selfish as it is, but I guess that’s your fault, too. Spoiling me and whatnot. Now my expectations for men are out of hand. Sorry.”

She even fucking laughed all the while he could hear her biting back her sobs. If he were there, he’d hold her by the shoulders and squeeze the fucking sense back into her and tell her yes, I did wait for you, and I’d wait for you for a hundred more years if I had to but I know you love someone else and-

Wait.

Wait.

Wait.

Backtrack.

What the hell did she just say!?

“I mean, I’m…” she continued, completely ignoring his panic. Was there a rewind on this thing??? “The past two days all I did was read your letter. Over and over again, trying to find something I could have missed. I memorized it by now. I’m a wreck. I’m sorry. I know it’s all so complicated, but I can't stop thinking that if the timing had just been good to us the past few years, all this would have been so different.”

Shit, shit, shit, shit, SHIT, is she actually saying she-

“I’m so sorry, Dick…” she sighed. “I kept you waiting. But even if… even if you’re not anymore, I already made up my mind. I’ll be here. It’s my turn to wait for you. As long as it takes. I love yo-“

Something hit the back of his knees.

Which, unfortunately, with him not in some defensive stance, caught him in a rather vulnerable position.

And with that, Dick tumbled off his feet, almost fell off the railing, and failed to catch his phone from slipping right off his hands.

“NO!”

“DOWN BOY-SQUAWK!” Gar the parrot cried and followed the obnoxiously unruly dog running around the terrace. “SORRY, DICK!”

The dog kept running around and almost crashed to his feet twice with it being too fast even for Gar's supposedly swift wings, and if he wasn’t so frozen and horrified, watching his phone descend from almost a hundred stories above ground, he would have grabbed that mutt by the neck.

“GAR, I SWEAR TO GOD-“

“I’m sorry!” He turned back into a human and caught the dog. “It was him!”

“My fucking phone just fell over the railing!”

“Want me to go get it-“

A car alarm. He could hear it even from above. Or Gar did. Because he went to look over and caught sight of his phone breaking a car’s windshield below. He scratched the back of his neck. “Sorry.”

“I have to…” Dick pulled on his scalp. “I have to go call her.”

“Call who?!”

“Give me your phone!”

“I don’t have a phone!”

“Give me Raven’s phone!”

“She talks to people with her mind,” Gar twirled his finger against his temple. “She doesn’t need a phone!”

“Just get- UGH!”

He stormed back into the building. “Where the hell is everyone else!?”

“They’re all out of town!”

“So it’s just you and Raven in here?! Without adult supervision!?”

“Why do you think we got a dog into the building?!”

Said dog stuck his tongue out at him like it was just so awfully adorable.

“Ok, ok, ok, ok, ok.” He can do this. He can calm down. “I have to go back. Or call her at least.”

“You’re going back to Gotham now?!”

She said she’ll wait. But to hell with keeping her waiting. “Yes. I do. I’m going back now. As soon as I can call her and tell her I’m on my way-“

“I wouldn’t do that.”

Raven didn’t even look up from her book, legs up on the couch as seemingly relaxed as if the whole wreck of a home they lived in wasn’t a mess at all.

“Next flight to Gotham’s in an hour.” She levitated an apple to her mouth and took a bite. “And the one after that’s in two days.”

“Two days!?”

“Airline shutdown. Some strike is happening,” she pointed at the TV playing the news. “I’d hurry if I were you.”

“God fucking dammit-“

“Good luck.” Raven took another bite.

Of course. Of course, this would fucking happen.

But, fuck, he didn’t know if he should just leap out the window to keep up now that everything he’s ever wished for had finally come to be. Because, to his own beliefs up in the clouds, he could probably fly with just the flap of his measly arms.

Y/N chose him.

He left for the elevator, just before Gar stopped him for leaving his wallet, then he was sprinting his way back to the airport.

.

You:

“I already made up my mind,” you said to your phone as if there were anyone else on the other line. As if he was there, listening to you. And that in a few seconds, he’d respond.

“I’ll be here. It’s my turn to wait for you. As long as it takes. I love you, Dick.”

Quite haunting how easy it was for those words to just roll off your lips, because as much as you thought all this to be so complicated and difficult, it was the easiest thing you’ve ever had to say.

At four am, alone in your studio with all your lights off and your sheets in an unkempt mess. You stuck your knees so close to your chest, trying to conceal at least some kind of warmth against you. But even with it so easy, it didn’t mean it wasn’t hurting.

“I can't,” you stuck your palm to your forehead. “I know things are so hard between us… and this past year is just…”

You breathed, longer than you’d hoped, just to get enough air into your lungs just so you wouldn’t collapse.

“God, I don’t even know what to tell you anymore. It all just… It feels like it’s too late. Everything went so wrong between us and I can't stop but think maybe it’s the world saying we’re just not meant to be,” you swallowed. “And the scary thing is… I don’t even care.”

The blue rose you painted, staring back at you once so bright, but as the passing days of you still wondering if were brave enough to do this at all, it had dried up and was now blank, patronizing even, that maybe it just wasn’t right, even when you wanted it to be.

“I don’t care if it’s so complicated, I want you…”

On the bed, just by your feet, you locked your eyes onto Dick’s beautiful handwriting, some that had been smudged with the sweat from your hands with the paper now crumpled up after all those months of reading and rereading.

You closed your eyes.

“You sent me an awfully painful, heart-breaking letter,” you said. “This is my awfully painful, heart-breaking reply.”

.

‘I usually just say all this in my head. That’s when I get poetic. Sometimes I write it down. Most of the time, I try to paint them. I think of galaxies and meadows and skies and flowers and all that, metaphors as they are, but I’ll say everything I’ve got. Right now. Because you deserve to know that all those years of you thinking nothing could ever go how you wanted, that it could end being just that.

.

Dick:

“Hey.”

Hands on the counter, the attendant looked startled at the least.

“I need a ticket for the next flight to Gotham.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” she said, after taking a while to look at Dick’s handsome yet frantically uneasy face. “You just missed it-“

“I know, I know, I missed the last one.” The one that left just five minutes ago because of fucking California traffic. “But I need to get on the next one. Please.”

“All flights from San Francisco after the next hour are canceled I’m afraid.”

“Any connecting flights? Anything that leaves before that?”

“Sir, I-” she stretched her fingers. “I’ll look for something.”

His fingers, tapping onto the counter until the tip of his nails started to hurt.

“The best option’s a connecting flight to Denver, then to New York.”

“New York!?”

“Then there’s the railway transits to Gotham. I can book you a ticket for that, too.”

From a seven-hour flight to a seventeen-hour trip with layovers and a crowded train.

But as soon as he heard best option he pulled out his wallet quicker than when they told him his rent was three months overdue and that if he weren’t to pay the doorman that very instant they’d evict him.

He rushed to the first plane, closed his eyes, and prayed she hadn’t said anything in her voice message too important for him to miss out on.

.

‘The universe, or whatever it is out there that has a say in all this, they didn’t make it easy for us at all. If they did, we would have met long before we went too far into this mess. We were friends, sure, and you have no idea how much I value our friendship.

But I guess not even that friendship’s strong enough for us to deny what’s really going on. And that’s why it’s all so hard. I can't even look at you without thinking about kissing you, or holding you, or touching you. I can't hold your hand without wanting to never pull away. I can't even be in the same room with you and not stare, even when you’re just reading a book or talking to someone else. You are… you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, and you’re just as beautiful within, which is why it was so easy to love you, and so hard to keep it in.’

.

You:

Morning. Eleven am at that. You slept before the sun was up, at least. But you were up all night.

Nothing. Not a call, not even a text from him.

Everything shattered, and you were still half asleep. The next thing you did, and the next thing to do, was wrap yourself up with the thickest layer of your blanket and hide in the dark, even with it such a lovely day.

Another message wouldn’t be such a good idea if he still hadn’t opened the last five, which seemed highly unlikely with him gone for almost a day now.

A day. It had been a day.

But nothing on GCPD’s notices reported a missing person’s file of an utterly gorgeous, half-Romani hunk of a man in any of their websites. You called the manor, again. Still, there was nothing.

Twelve at noon. All you had for lunch was a bagel from three nights ago. It stuffed you, at least.

You sat at your dining table and stared at your phone.

If there was a moment for so much love to come crashing at once, it would all have been too great for that to be possible.

But the moment you realized it was there at all,

A few weeks ago. Steph’s birthday.

A party at the manor. It wasn’t much. Just a little get together with everyone at the parlor.

Everyone was talking, laughing, and frankly you wished you’d joined them. It looked like fun.

But instead, you were looking out the window, at the gardens white with melted snow and winds strong enough to knock the leaves out the branches. But you couldn’t hear any of that, which made it peaceful. It was the trees that danced, birds instead of planes that hovered over the sky, not a star above but perhaps it was because it was so full of clouds. It looked cold. Cold always looked so beautiful when you were looking out from the warmth of the inside.

Dick walked up to your side, just a reasonable distance away so he wouldn’t touch your shoulder, but close enough that you’d smell the jasmine from his neck.

“You’re just gonna stand out here and watch the glass fog up?”

You remembered laughing, probably at something else he’d said after that.

“It’s pretty when you look hard enough.”

And all the while, he didn’t pull your arm and drag you over at the crowd. He didn’t tell you to join them, to loosen up and have fun or have a drink or in any way stop you from what you were doing.

He just stood there and joined you, instead. Ditched his family. Didn’t even speak much.

He stood there because he wanted to. Because you staring out the window was more interesting to him than a whole crowd of kids doing whatever.

When he balled up his fist, covered it with his sleeve, and wiped the window right in front of you to rid it from the fog so you could see the gardens clearer, you knew you loved him.

Such a small act that was, but it was the finality of everything else that built up to that moment.

Then, you remembered what you told him last night, in a voice message that lasted way too long and sounded far too painful.

.

‘I don’t regret what I had with Tim… but I do regret not saying anything the past four years when I had the chance. You were there. You were there and I could never have had it any other way. When we’re not trying so hard for everything to be alright, everything’s at its best. I’m not even your girlfriend, and already I think about every minute I spend with you and laugh before I’m off to bed. I think about your jokes way too long than they should ever last. And your smile, god your smile, saying that that it’s all I could ever think about wouldn’t do it any justice. You have drawn out the ugliest laugh out of me that never should have come out of any human in existence. And frankly, I’m glad you do. Because just when I thought I could never smile again, you made me the happiest I could ever be.’

.

Dick:

Of all days. Of all times.

His survival rate at that point, rushing through Denver Airport with just a fifteen-minute layover period, with his shoelaces undone, probably wasn’t one he should have relied on. He was starving, but he had the appetite of a mammal in hibernation with the horrible airplane food costing a hundred dollars and everything else taking too long to prepare.

With just thirty seconds to spare, he fell to his too-narrow coach seat, shuffled along so his large ass-damn this cursed asset-would fit through the aisle and breathed just as the air hissed into the cabin after they closed the service door.

Head against the back of the seat, eyes up the ceiling, at the smoke that blew in through that gap outside the overhead locker, he ignored his dried skin, his dry mouth, his feet that were close to standing on a thousand knife tips, his eyes so close to just shutting out, his wallet painfully thin with this whole trip costing the equivalent of a round trip to Shanghai, and his whole body about to collapse. He hasn’t slept in twenty-four hours. It didn’t look like he was ever going to sleep at all.

And he hasn’t even called. God, what was she doing at home? Is she okay? Is she eating okay? Is she worried about him, staring at her phone wondering what she did wrong when she was nothing less of a perfect creation of all the gods that existed, an angel the earth didn’t deserve?

He really, really had to call.

Someone just sat next to him. A child. And next to him was his mother, who just put down her phone from a call.

“Excuse me.” Dick put on his award-winning smile, pretended he wasn’t sweating his balls off or that he was in any way close to psychological death, and hoped he looked the part as well.

“Yes?”

“Is it okay if I, uh, borrow your phone? I have to make a call. It’s sort of an emergency.”

“The plane’s about to take off.”

“It won't take long. I promise.”

He probably didn’t look as charming as he’d hoped. His hair was a mess not even a bird would settle into. The woman looked at him quizzically, up and down, and shrugged. Like it was handed to him on a silver plater, she gave him her phone.

The aircraft was about to take off. He only had so long.

He called Y/N’s number that he didn’t even know he memorized and settled back. It started ringing.

“MOM!”

The kid beside him. He was tugging on his mother’s shirt.

“MOM, I’M BORED.”

“We’re in a plane,-“

“I’M BORED. I WANNA PLAY ROBLOX-“

“Not now, we’re in a plane. Sit down.”

“GIVE ME YOUR PHONE-“

“That man has my phone.”

Fuck.

Y/N, fucking pick up.

“HEY, GIVE ME MY MOM’S PHONE BACK-“

“Kid, I hear ya. But you have to give me this one-“

“GIVE ME THE PHONE-“

That kid, a chubby one not older than six, stood up from his chair and was wild enough to grab Dick’s hand away from holding the phone up his ear. If he weren’t so desperate, he would have let him have it.

But god almighty, he’s never been as desperate as a starving man in a desert.

“Kid. Just one minute.”

“NO, GIVE ME!”

The mother put on a sleeping mask and faced the other way.

“KID-“

“GIVE ME MY PHONE-“

Back and forth, both grabbing onto the phone and the kid having the strength he did not at all expect, they ended up wrestling it out in the cramped-up economy seats until the kid was screaming out his ears.

He’s never looked so ridiculous but jokes on everyone else if they thought he could care less.

“Excuse me.”

An attendant, bags under her eyes and giving both of them, not just the kid, a dirty look.

“I’m sorry, sir, but the other passengers have complained about the noise. I’m gonna have to ask you to take your seat.”

“NO!” the kid screamed.

“DID YOU JUST BITE ME!?” Dick cried out.

“GIVE ME THE PHONE!”

“I NEED TO CALL SOMEONE!”

Dick grabbed the phone off his hands, palm to the kid’s face to stop him from reaching out to his outstretched arm. “Don’t you have some kind of coloring book you can give him?”

The attendant smiled, albeit forcefully, and walked back over to the back of the cabin. The kid did not stop trying to grab it off Dick’s arm.

She gave the kid a bag that probably had books and crayons and whatever stuffed inside. It looked so old. It had to have been in storage for the past ten years.

But as if some miracle heard him, the kid shut up, took the bag, and settled on his seat. Then he was as quiet as a mouse.

Fucking finally.

He held the phone up his ear and closed his eyes, fingers easing the tension on the nerve on his forehead.

“And sir?”

The attendant smiled at him. It didn’t look so much of a smile as it was a death threat.

“I’m gonna have to ask you to turn off your mobile device.”

To say he wanted to squeeze the life out of everyone in the whole aircraft, including himself, wouldn’t cut it.

And he didn’t even have it in him to protest.

“Hello?”

Her voice. At the other end of the line. That word was all there is to it, the only thing he heard.

Dick sighed, closed his eyes, counted to three, then ended the call after just two seconds.

The next thing he heard, for the next three hours, would be the screams of the child at his side, kicking on his seat like a fucking soccer ball.

.

‘That call from a year ago. The one about Kori. Fuck, I don’t even know where to begin. I overreacted. By a mile. Did some stupid shit to make up for that guilt and masked it over as another heartbreak when really, it was me refusing to have to go through all that again. I had to see you with that woman when I was in love with you for three years. Of course, it hurt. But I shouldn’t have an excuse. It was so stupid. Just thinking about it makes me want to break. I’m so sorry about that, Dick. I know we’ve already been over that months ago, but I just want to clear everything while I still can. God, I don’t even know if you’d listen to all this. I’m rambling. I’m sorry. I put all the blame on you when I had my share of mistakes. A whole lot of them. I’m sorry. I love you. And I’m sorry.’

.

You:

Hung up after two seconds. All you heard on the other end of the line was breathing and huffing, and nothing else. Whoever it was, they’ve been calling the past two minutes, just as you stepped out of the shower. And you almost cracked a rib flying from your bathroom to your kitchen table with just a towel around you, hoping to see his name on the screen. But alas, your luck just wasn’t at its peak.

You put your phone down, still with nothing to do, nothing else you could think of doing, than to just wait on that seat, stare at your phone, and hope Dick hadn’t hurt himself going after some goon alone the night before. Still no missing persons report. Nothing from the rest of the team, either.

Maybe just once more. You could call him. It wouldn’t annoy him too much. It had been hours since the last one.

You called, put the phone up your ear.

No ringing. It went straight to voice mail.

You opened your mouth, thinking you had something to say.

But you didn’t have anything to say. Not anymore. Not after you poured your whole heart out on the last one and now your throat was as dry as your palms were sweating.

You put your phone down, facing away from you, then you sank to your arms, burying your crumbling face away even with no one to see you.

.

‘That’s why I hate myself for not caring if this was difficult. Because I know, somehow, that’s it’s all still gonna be worth it. With you. Just thinking about the things we’d do, you’ve been the light of my life, the one person I look for not just because I need it, but because being with you makes so much of my day, every day that I see you. I look for you in crowds. I turn to your face when I want to look at something pleasant. I stare at doors, constantly hoping you’d be the one to walk in. I seek out for your voice, call you even when I know it’s a bother, find the most ridiculous excuses and the most stupid questions just so I’d have a reason to stand close to you, to have you talking to me, wanting all that everyday. I’ve never met anyone like you, Dick. I’ll never get used to you, and there’s no way in hell that I’d ever get tired of you. And maybe that’s the price to pay with all this being so hard. As complicated as it is, the troubles aren’t half the worth of the happiness it comes with.’

.

Two flights, three within the past thirty hours, jet-lagged far beyond a night’s repair, and his stomach in so many knots that even the bag of peanuts from the plane was too much to digest. And it wasn’t from poisoning or hunger or whatever it was. Everything in a whirlwind, one he can't even track.

He got to New York before it was dark, and he wanted to kiss the floor.

But he wasn’t at Gotham yet. This trip wasn’t over.

And if it weren’t for the half a million people crowded over at the airport, he would have been in Gotham right at that second.

Past the crowd, fumbling and running for whatever life he had left that wasn’t a spirit descended into something infinitely better than this, he made it over to the other side of the terminal, with his pits sweating his shirt off and his legs made of cooked chicken drumsticks and dough.

He got to the railway station, over at the attendant behind the counter.

“Excuse me,” he panted, and just like the one at the San Francisco airport, it startled her. Except now, there was no using his charm or his looks when he looked like he crawled out of a swamp.

“To Gotham,” he said.

“Ticket?”

He reached for his wallet, hands shaking so horribly it was worrying if he hadn’t known it came with his mind being as much of a mess as a wrecked ship from the 1800s.

And all the more did they tremble, down to his sorry knees, when he opened every flap there was on his wallet to find every pocket empty.

No.

No. no. no. no. no.

He searched his pockets. His jacket. His pants. His fucking shoes. If he had a hat he’d probably look into that too.

Nothing. Not a stub. A tiny stub that would have easily been blown by so much as a gust from a fan, let alone running a marathon in three airports in a single day.

“I,” he swallowed. “I seemed to have lost my ticket.”

Yeah. He wasn’t getting out of this one. The attendant looked at him and snarled like the annoyance he was.

“All the trains are sold out. And I’m afraid you can't board the train without a ticket.”

“Ma’am, I really, really, have to get to Gotham-“

“I’m afraid you’re gonna have to step out of the line.”

Like every force in the universe was out to get him.

“Do you have a phone? A payphone at least? I really need to call someone-“

“Sir, please step out of the line.”

“Please, ma’am, there has to be some way you can squeeze me into one of those trains-“

The attendant waved at someone behind him.

Two security guards were at his side before he could even turn around.

“Alright, alright, I’m leaving,” he huffed. “You guys don’t happen to have a phone I could use?”

Both guards ignored him, set him aside against a pillar.

And, with the excruciating exhaustion finally crashing into this one blow to the face, he stuck his back against the column, head up to the ceiling, then fell on his ass.

God, what does he even say to her after this?

If he actually gets to talk to her, that is.

“Final call for boarding!”

That light. One, single light. Or two, if he focused his eyes. The headlights from outside the revolving doors, from a bus that just opened its doors. It was a light, because it had GOTHAM in bold letters pasted onto its windshield.

And a line of people stepping inside. Kids and adults, old people alike.

He sat up from the floor, hungry, tired, and in pain.

But this was all going to be worth it. Every minute of this.

He just knew, that one last push, after this tormenting, inferno of a day, would all come to an end he’d dreamed about since he first laid eyes on her that day at the Wayne Manor’s library.

Dick got in line outside the bus, told the conductor he’d pay when they get inside. And after he did, he had just a quarter in his wallet to spare. No one sat beside him. The others were at the back. The one across was fast asleep. He couldn’t call her.

He’ll just have to hope, that whatever worries she had waiting for him to come up, that she’d forgive him enough for all this to end the way he hoped it would.

Three hours on a bus.

Didn’t even sound like it was remotely a long time.

The moment he took his seat, the bus doors hissed closed, and the air so silent, so did everything else calm.

He’s waited so long.

But he just had to wait for another three hours. In a bus. Then he’ll see her.

He closed his eyes.

.

‘I don’t even know why I rambled so much about all this being so complicated.

Because even if I had to walk up to the sky, I know there’s a galaxy waiting for me at the end. You are worth it. You are worth everything. I’ve never been so obsessed with anyone my whole life. You are, with my whole heart, my greatest love. And you are so beautiful that I never want to look at anything else ever again. And I never thought I’d get know beauty the way I do when I talk to you. You are everything I could ever want. And so much more.

And that pain, that hurt we both had to go through after all those years. That pining and waiting, and the heartbreak just because I was too stupid to understand that it didn’t have to be so hard after all, it doesn’t even matter, when at the end, I get to be with you.

I’d go through all that again if it means I can be with you.

You are the man I’ve dreamt about since I could first dream, and I’m lucky enough to have you in my reality. It’s you I want, Dick.

So I’ll wait for you. As long as I have to.

I love you so much.

Please, for the love of God, call me.’

.

You:

That message.

The longer you stared at your phone, the more you wondered if it was the right thing to do at all.

It was four am. You were tired. And worried.

And it was four am now, a whole day after.

Not a single call.

You’ve done it this time. You tripped at the finish line.

You were selfish enough to keep that man waiting for so long hoping he’d keep going, just as he had been for years.

And now, this is what you get.

You have yourself alone, in your apartment, one you haven’t cleaned in a week, and your heart in the same shatters as it often had been.

Your phone rang. You weren’t so excited to pick it up. Rightfully so when you saw it was just Bruce.

“Hello?” you said, your weight against the table’s surface, also surprised that it hadn’t broken.

“Y/N,” Bruce said. “I heard you were looking for Dick.”

“Mhm?”

“Sorry I haven’t called. Anyways, the last location I can point him to was at the Titans Tower in San Francisco.”

Okay.

You’ve had your heart broken before.

But it wasn’t just that that had broken right then.

Everything else, every bone, every bit of flesh there was, it was this numbing buzz you couldn’t even fight.

“What?”

Just then, someone knocked on your door.

And it wasn’t just a knock. They were pounding against the wood.

The ringing in your ears hadn’t even subsided, and you were breathless, muscles stiff. You just let the pounding go on until you heard Bruce hang up on the other line.

Life didn’t even give you so much as a second to process all that, of what he could be doing there, who he was with.

Your walked to the door, and without looking into the eyehole, you unlatched the lock and opened it.

Some glitch there was if all this were nothing but a simulation.

But it was as if the last five minutes-no-the last two days hadn’t happened at all.

Dick never looked like such a mess.

But, nonetheless, the way you stared at him was as if he was as beautiful as he ever was.

Everything that had broken, the moment you looked into his eyes, had fallen right back into place, into an entity far stronger than any quake could knock it out of.

Dick shut the door behind him.

He grabbed your face.

Then he kissed you. Without words. Without letting so much as a speck of time, however it worked now that it’d stopped, pass and waste away.

.

Dick:

Whatever she told him in that message he never got to hear, everything she ever had to say, the instant he felt her kiss him back, it was like every word flew out of her lips. How she wanted him. How she chose him. How in love she was with the mess of a human being he could be. How all the trials they’d been forced to go through, all the misunderstandings and the fights and the long months of this troubling, awkward place they wanted nothing more than to climb out of. He got all that with the way her lips molded so wanting and harsh, pressed so hard against his dried, chapped pair that have never witnessed anything more beautiful and so awfully perfect.

No more time to be wasted.

Not another second.

He had her. He finally had her.

He got the girl.

Not a chance that he wasted so much as another second.

He pushed her against the wall and the gasp that came out of her wasn’t at all out of pain, but at the sheer desire that had sparked at such impact that only knocked her into the same place he’d long settled in. And he could just feel, how much she wanted so badly to speak, to tell him what was raging in her head that was as much of a mess as his. But they’ll talk. Eventually. After.

All he wanted, right then, was to have her. Love her. Love her. To send her off to some paradise that long surpassed oceans and mirages and heavens that stood on clouds, to culminate that seemingly endless torture into a reward so great, that to say it would have been worth it would be so much an understatement. To play every instrument there was and let the song resonate into her body, and make it last for the rest of his life for so long as he could touch her. All that, he was going to give her tonight. Tonight. Right then and there.

Grabbing her legs up to his hips, her hands pinned to the wall above her head, it was too much of a flash for him to rush into this beautiful thing that shouldn’t be rushed at all. But he couldn’t slow down if it meant that he lives. Even if he died right after, he just couldn’t hold back.

He was pushing himself into her and the sounds that he earned out his lips were more than any songbird could cry out. After just having her against that wall, he finally got the sense to take it to the bed. It was dark. Not a light was on. And it was raining outside the one window she had near the bed and just the streetlight outside was enough to make him see her face. Dick placed her on top of his lap, on which she enjoyed herself to her own pace. Her hips were like waves, the ocean that rocked about, and the stain on his pants that she’d left behind was just as wet as so.

At that moment even she didn’t want to wait and talk any longer.

He took off her clothes, lied back.

Then he hoisted her up so the sweetest part of her body was just hovering over his mouth, her strong, beautiful legs, one of skin and the other of metal, on either sides of his head.

.

You:

You were made of gemstones. You were shimmering.

Of diamonds and rubies and emeralds, of the most precious rocks that could be found on every soil on earth.

Everything. That pain. That darkness. All the troubles and hardships, the disputes and every tear you’ve ever had to shed. Gone. Gone when he drew out this wonderful melody of sensations from his sweet, sweet tongue quivering you to every core. You were rocking, shaking, trembling, barely keeping yourself up. Not long after you screamed, and like the skies heard you it screamed back with a thunderous roar.

Then Dick shed his own clothes and moved inside you, rolling your hips with your two bodies now this one, beautiful entity, like you were holding his hand, just as you did right then, as you both ran through the darkness of a cave that has long haunted you, with creatures and bats and ghosts flying about, just to reach the end that was a light so close and so bright, you chased yourselves, chased that very light.

And once you reached it, that blinding, flashing white light that shone with this painful, glorious sting to every bit of your flesh, to say you found that end would be wrong. It wasn’t an end. It was this continuous, tantalizing aroma that would last a lifetime. It was beauty. You felt beauty. And it was in ripples you couldn’t see. A blur you couldn’t comprehend.

You had so much to tell him and ask him about.

But just as that wonderful night showed you, you had the rest of your life to do just that.

.

Epilogue

Dick:

Life could only ever be so cruel.

But life gives its niceties. Sometimes, to the people so used to it that they take it for granted.

But it’s even more so of a nicety when it’s the people who’ve long deserved it.

Not to say he deserved the world, but it was just that he’d gotten. From a world once so cruel, that never seemed to have granted them the time enough to be together, it’d never built up into anything more perfect.

Watching her from his car’s driver seat, from where he had a perfect view of her looking at the wondrous scenes flash by outside the window. It was even more beautiful, more than ever before, now that he could take just a second off his time from the steering wheel just to kiss her.

Just a little over six months together. Never has there been anything so rewarding in his life. A rainbow, ten of them at least, that filled what was once this depressingly grey sky. He always knew it’d be worth the world. But even he surprised himself.

When they parked the car, got out into this wide, orange field, a farmland just outside of Jersey with a valley at the farthest end, the only thing that battled the brightness of her smile was the sun itself.

“It’s beautiful, Dick.”

Her voice, even more so.

He set up her canvas, all her paint, and her brushes. They found a spot on the grass that was clean enough for them both to sit on. She didn’t use her easel. Instead, they both laid on this plaid red and white sheet over the grassy soil, her using her own knees to hold it up. And Dick sat beside her, watching her as the hours ticked. Without looking away, no longer ashamed when she’d catch him.

Just before the last of the sun had set, he pulled out from his pocket a ring, one with a diamond a shape of a white rose on top.

He got it a week after they got together.

Her face, her lips wide open as she realized what came in front of her, then he asked her to be his. Forever.

She said yes, just as the sun fell.

-----

MASTERLIST | 3 BIRDS 1 STONE MASTERLIST | RED | YELLOW

-----

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[stiltonbasket]

Renouncement verse, jc bonds with his niblings. Jc forced on a misadventure with lz and reflects on those 3 months during the war and their changed relationship to each other (reminding him of his other bro in law), possible beginings of friendship? Sect leader yao get reckt? People reminded that wwx is incredibly kind just as he is incredibly badass? Love ur stories! :D

(author’s note: please please reblog if you can, since that’s how we get prompts for future chapters!)

“I want to get out of here,” Lan Wangji growls. “We have been stuck for almost a full shichen.”

“We’re not in any danger,” Jiang Cheng points out, rolling his eyes. The two of them have been stuck in the lair of a spider demon for the last two hours, trapped by its resentful webs even after they gored it through the head and ripped its legs off; but the webs dissipate by themselves about four or five hours after the death of yaoguai that made them, so he and Lan Wangji just have to wait until they can get out. 

Oddly enough, Jiang Cheng had thought that Lan Wangji would be much better at waiting.

“I know we are not in danger,” his brother-in-law hisses—and isn’t that a kicker, knowing that he and Lan Wangji are technically related now. “I have a family to return to. We cannot stay here doing nothing until the webs disappear.”

“If we use our lingli to get ourselves out, we’ll exhaust ourselves, and it’ll take twice as long for you to get back to the Cloud Recesses. Just stay put and stop complaining.”

“If we use our lingli, I will at least be able to get a message to Wei Ying!” Lan Wangji snaps. “The little one may be coming now, for all I know! And Wei Ying will worry, besides!”

“He wasn’t even expecting you back until tomorrow,” Jiang Cheng grumbles, turning his back on him. “It was your idea to come here at night. We were going to speak to the villagers in the afternoon and start work in the morning.”

“That would have kept us away from home for an extra half-day.”

“Believe it or not, the Cloud Recesses can run itself perfectly well without you. Your brother can manage by himself for a night, and so can Wei Wuxian.”

The look Lan Wangji gives him is so poisonous that it would have made the spider yaoguai proud. “What did you say?”

“You heard me,” Jiang Cheng returns, turning back to face Lan Wangji with his arms crossed over his chest. “Stop thinking that something’s going to happen to my brother because you’re not there. He can take care of himself.”

A shadow of mingled grief and anger passes over Lan Wangji’s eyes, and Jiang Cheng tries not to feel guilty at the sight of it. After all, Lan Wangji doesn’t have to say that Wei Ying has been taking care of himself since before the Sunshot Campaign—he was thrown into Luanzung Gang without a golden core to protect him, taught himself resentful cultivation and overthrew Wen Ruohan with it, and then he fled to the Burial Mounds and kept fifty people fed and clothed with his own labor while keeping them safe from the Jins at the same time. 

Wei Wuxian is so used to taking care of himself that he didn’t know how to accept it when his own lawful husband tried to assure him that he no longer had to worry for his future, or the futures of the children they have together. 

“I was already making plans to take myself out of the way after Lan Zhan found someone he really loved,” his brother told him once, after Jiang Cheng received word about the coming baby and flew to the Cloud Recesses to see if it was true. “I was hoping he wouldn’t until Xiao-Yu came of age, but separations do happen in the Cloud Recesses, and you put that divorce clause into our betrothal contract. It’s stupid, but even though I know now that he’s loved me all along, I...I still don’t know how to feel it’s true sometimes.”

“Is he not taking care of you?” Jiang Cheng had demanded, his hackles already rising in fury at the thought of Wei Wuxian’s husband making him feel abandoned. “I’ll have words with him if he is, you—”

“A-Cheng,” Wei Wuxian chided. “It’s not like that.” And then he had gestured around him to the fluffy pillows and blankets layered all over his body and the vials of medicine at the bedside table, before casting a pointed eye at his own reflection in the mirror. “Xichen-ge said that such worries are normal with a child on the way, and I wasn’t so—well, worried—before the autumn. It should pass, and there are healers who train for that sort of thing if it doesn’t.”

That sort of thing might be why Lan Wangji is so desperate to return to Wei Wuxian now, if Jiang Cheng looks a little further than his brother-in-law’s point-blank refusal to let Wei Wuxian out of his sight ever since Mo Xuanyu brought him back to life about a year and a half ago. His brother hasn’t been well lately, what with being kidnapped right before he found out about A-Lan and the stress that the chilly Gusu winter had placed on his coreless body, and he doesn’t exactly have a good track record for keeping out of trouble whenever Lan Wangji is away from him. 

And the last time Lan Wangji was forcibly separated from Wei Wuxian, he and Jiang Cheng spent three months searching for him everywhere from Yunmeng to Qishan, forced into partnership by fear and hope and everything in between, and still half-certain that they would find nothing but a body when their search was over.

“Get Bichen and start chopping,” Jiang Cheng says abruptly, yanking Sandu out of its sheath and wincing as he feels the spiritual drain when it slashes a piece of web in two. “I’ll take the right, you take the front. We should be out in half an hour.”

__

Neither of them have enough lingli to travel back by sword, so they rent a pair of horses from a chain stable-owner and set their course back towards Gusu; the spider yao’s nest was in Moling, and Lan Wangji was obliged to attend to the matter as Excellency, and Jiang Cheng came along because he happened to be visiting the Cloud Recesses. Six hours later, they drop the horses off at the first chain stable they can find, and then they make their way through Caiyi town and up into the mountains. 

“I want to see my brother,” Jiang Cheng grumbles, holding up the package of beef bones he bought on the journey. “You’re taking care of him properly, I know, but—I just want to see him. And my niece.”

Lan Wangji lifts his eyebrow at him, but then his whole face softens as Wei Wuxian comes running down the path with Xiao-Yu in his arms, so delighted to see them both that his face seems to be lit by a tiny sun from within. 

“Lan Zhan!” he calls, leaping into Lan Wangji’s embrace and kissing him until Xiao-Yu starts wriggling in discomfort between them. “How are you, love? You didn’t have any trouble, did you?”

Lan Wangji shakes his head and returns Wei Wuxian’s kisses just as fervently, and then Wei Wuxian turns to Jiang Cheng and beams, hugging him so tightly that the breath flies out of his chest with a gasp.

“Will you stay until tomorrow, Jiang Cheng?” Wei Wuxian asks, taking his hand and wrapping his other arm around Lan Wangji’s waist, while Xiao-Yu scrambles up onto Lan Wangji’s shoulders. “A-Hong just sent word saying that you haven’t had any summons today, so I thought…”

Jiang Cheng nods. He can feel tears pricking at the corners of his eyes at the warmth in his brother’s voice, and the lump in his throat does not leave until much later that evening, when he goes to bed in one of the guest houses and stares up at the ceiling in an effort to fall asleep.

But then Lan Jingyi bursts into his room just before midnight, and drags him out of the guest house and up towards the infirmary. “What’s wrong?” Jiang Cheng demands, the moment he catches his breath. “Wei Wuxian—he’s not—”

“It’s happening!” Jingyi screeches. “Wei-qianbei asked for you, and Zewu-jun’s already started passing him spiritual energy—”

Jiang Cheng nearly faints dead away on the spot when Jingyi finally drags him into the healing ward and shows him to Wei Wuxian’s room. 

He’s about to become a jiujiu again.

[clockworkgraystairs]

HERE FOR YOU || Jurdan College AU Pt. 2

Warnings: None. Swearing maybe?

Tags: @slightlyrebelliouswriter23​ @aesthetics-11​ @hizqueen4life​ @duarteegreenbriar​ @mysweetvilllain​ @judexcardanxgreenbriar​ @nite0wl29​ @althekingshorses​ @thewickedkings​ @demydreamer-otaku-and-book-lover​ @thesirenwashere​ @b00kworm​ @acourtofmoonlight​ @queen-of-glass​ @random-llama-socks​ @jurdanhell​ @cardan-greenbriar-tcp​ 

[if I forgot to tag anyone or if you want to be tagged let me know!]

Summary: After finding a very ill and feverish Jude, Cardan takes her to the doctor. And deals with her usual stubbornness.

HFY Masterlist      Pt 1   Pt 2   Pt 3   Pt 4 [coming soon] 

AO3 link

My masterlist

Cardan had never liked doctors. When he was a little kid, his mother had to apologize several times because he kept glaring and calling them creepy warlocks, claiming they cured people using potions that stunk and had a sour flavor. And even though he’d got over that phase of his life, the scent of medicine still gave him a slight skittish sensation. 

Now, after nearly an hour of waiting he was definitely not enjoying himself, except that this time he couldn’t quite tell if the feeling was because of the smell or not knowing what the doctor was telling Jude, making his muscles tense more with every minute that passed.

One part of him wished nothing more than yell at her for being so reckless and not seeking for help earlier. 

The other part though, kept thinking about that morning.  

He and Jude had agreed to meet every monday and  friday at 9:00 am to work on their final project. At the beginning their meetings had place at the school’s library, since they didn’t talk much. Not because he didn’t want to, of course. But after years of confronting Jude at class, he’d learn to give her space when she focused on something. And maybe because she was a little scary too. 

Within time, her frowning glares became curious eyes and her monosyllabic answers, full conversations.

By the third month, they had to look for a new place to meet. The library’s manager, tired of scolding them at least six times a day for talking and laughing too loud, had forbid them to enter the building together. Or being together in there at all.  

That’s how they ended up in a coffee shop near the campus. The place was small and cozy. The owner, an old sweet lady called Joanne, prepared the best cappuccinos Cardan had ever tasted. 

That morning though, he hadn’t been able to take a sip of his beverage. The two cups of coffee steaming on the table seem to mock him as he alternated his gaze between them and the door, waiting for her to arrive. His leg bounced uneasily and he felt his hands sweatier than usual.

 He glanced at the clock. 9:20 am. She was already twenty minutes late. Jude was never late. 

From the kitchen, Joanne whistled cheerfully the song that came out from the speakers. An italian song he couldn’t identify. When her eyes crossed Cardan’s she smiled and gave him an encouraging nod. He shifted on his seat, looking down at the small bunch of flowers he’d bought. The white peonies and daisies rested smoothly on the wooden table.  

Damn her. Of all days, she’d chose this one to be late.

When he woke up that morning, he was thoroughly decided to finally come clean. To finally tell Jude he was in love with her.

He sent her another message. Nothing. 

He called her. No answer. Again. 

Had she forgotten? 

Impossible, they met there twice a week. 

The only possible option left in his mind was that she’d remembered. And didn’t care.  

Anger pooled on his stomach. What an idiot he felt now. They had an agreement, imposed by her by the way, of letting the other one know about any inconvenience. Was he really that insignificant for her he didn’t deserve a simple notice? 

Bottle it up, he said to himself.

That’s when he remembered she’d been absent from class those last two days too. Even professor Noggle asked about her, a thing he didn’t do with most of the students. 

Cardan frowned. In a swift move he stood and walked out. 

He left the money for the coffee on the table, and the flowers next to it. 

The door opened, bringing him back to the present. As Jude walked out of the consulting room, he noticed her pallor had decreased. Not enough to relax him, but it was something. 

“How are you feeling?” he asked, raising to stand next to her. 

She shrugged. “Better, I told you it was nothing. Let’s go.”

“Ah ah,” The doctor started, closing the door behind him. “That’s not exactly what I said young lady.”

Cardan frowned at her. Seriously? Her only answer was a deep sigh and rolling eyes. 

“My exact words were that it didn’t seem like something too serious or life-threatening. Not that it was nothing.” He took a prescriptions block out of his coat and scrawled something in the front page. Jude groaned.  “It’s most likely a severe stomach flu, aggravated by the days it was left untreated. But since the fever was strong, I’d like to wait and see if it settles now.”

“Most likely?” Cardan repeated, his brows pulled together in a frown. What had he paid this clown for, then? 

“Well it’s always good to scrap any other possibility, I took a blood sample from miss Duarte so I can send it to the lab. But I don’t believe it will show any other result.”

He nodded. “So what now? We just wait?”

“Cardan.” Jude mumbled. He didn’t move his eyes from the doctor.

“Pretty much.” He handed him the prescription. “She got an injection for the temperature already. Here are scripted some pills she’ll need to take for the next three to five days, to help with the nausea. And of course, lots of water and electrolytes.”

“Thank you, I’ll get those right away.” She said as she snatched the paper from Cardan’s hand and put it away. 

“Miss Duarte, I’ll recommend you to stay under observation the next two days. Just in case the fever returns and you need immediate assistance.” 

“Of course.” Jude answered nonchalantly, already reaching for the exit. “I’ll let my sister know so she can come over. Thanks.”

Back on his car he drove in silence. ‘Never let me go’ by Florence + The Machine sounded low on the radio. With closed eyes, Jude leaned towards the open window, her brunette locks flying wildly around her head. 

Cardan glanced sidewards at her, forcing himself not to linger too much on her slightly parted lips. His mind went back to the moment she’d collapsed in his arms. Cheeks flushed and burning up in heat. Even if he never admitted it out loud, she’d scared the hell out of him. 

He pulled his attention back to the road and cleared his throat. “I thought both of your sisters were out of town. Is any of them back? I can call them if you like.”

Jude ignored his question. After a moment of silence she whispered. “Why are you doing this?” 

Cardan shrugged.  “It’s a little bit obvious isn’t it?” She quirked an eyebrow at him. “You have our full project on your laptop, Duarte. And it has a password. If you die, then how on earth am I supposed to recover it?”

A punch landed on his arm, followed by a soft chuckle. “Ass. And you don’t need to call anyone. It’s not necessary.”

“Meaning?” Now it was his turn to scowl.

“Meaning,” She sighed. “That I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself, you already did more than enough. Besides you’re right, my sisters are far far away from here, right where they should.” 

He couldn’t believe his ears. Earning a honk from the car behind them, Cardan pushed the brake, leading the car aside so it could fully stop on the sideway. 

“Hey, calm down Toretto!” She shouted raggedly, grabbing the door handle for support. “What the fuck!?”

“What the fuck? That’s exactly what I’m asking you, Duarte!” Now he could fully turn to face her incredulous stare. “What the fuck is wrong with you? You passed out a couple of hours ago, you were burning up in fever. Do you realize that? Apparently not, because despite the recommendations, you still insist on not listening!” 

An exasperated sigh left his lungs. He grabbed the wheel tighter, trying to ease the growing pool of rage inside him. Calm down. He’d spent his life telling himself to calm down. Being terrible at expressing his feelings, he was used to get irritated every time he faced pain, or fear. Or pretty much anything, actually. But gods, how could she be so stubborn? 

Jude pressed her mouth into a thin line and looked down, her hands twisting faintly on her lap. She was indeed nervous about whatever illness loomed in her body, he noticed, trying to ignore the lips he so badly wanted to tug between his. 

“I’ll stay with you.” The words left his lips before he fully realized it. 

“You what? Don’t be rid-”

“The doctor said you needed to be under supervision.” He answered turning back to the road, and put his car on march again. She was probably giving him some murdering glare that he prefered to elude. “So you have two options sweetheart, either you let me stay at your place or you come back to mine, but a frat house it’s not exactly a place to rest. You are, by no means, staying alone.”

Half a second later, even the radio was muffled by her incessant ranting. Hardly determined to convince him of doing otherwise. 

Cardan just drove.

~

When he parked next to her building the sun was already setting. 

With her arms firmly folded across her chest Jude hadn’t stopped gritting her teeth all the way back. This was madness, she repeated to herself over and over. 

The man showed up out of nowhere, took her to the doctor, paid for her medicine and now wanted to stay in her apartment? No fucking way. 

The problem now, was that if there was anyone on earth even more stubborn than her, it was Cardan. A man that no matter how many times she asked him to just leave her on the sidewalk and leave, was now walking up the stairs next to her. A satisfied grin on his perfect charming face. If she didn’t feel as weak at the moment she’d slapped his way out of the place. 

Once inside she left the medicines and the gatorades on the table and turned to him. 

“For the hundredth time, Cardan. You don’t have to stay, everything is under control and I’m not feveri- what’s that?” She asked, noticing the hanging object on his shoulder.

“A backpack?” 

She rolled her eyes. “I‘m not blind, you ass. What are you doing with that backpack?”

“I always keep some extra clothes in my trunk. You know, in case I find myself in any unexpected situation.” He wiggled his eyebrows at her in a way that twisted her guts. Ugh, disgusting.

The repulse must’ve been written on her face too because he snickered for a second before throwing it next to the couch. “Becoming your hot nurse certainly fits in the category dear, you can’t deny that.” 

She blinked and pushed back the intrusive thoughts that emerged from his statement. Why was her mind against her today? Maybe the fever had burned her coherency brain cells, if she’d ever had any to begin with.

“I didn’t ask you to.”

“I know.” Cardan dropped himself on the couch, opening a book he’d taken from his pack. “Now take those pills, put on your weird pijama and go rest.” 

Maybe she could still gather the strength to slap him after all.

Trying to ignore the sour flavor that shitty pills left on her mouth, Jude stood in front of the mirror. Wearing the shorts and the t-shirt she’d put on before they went to the doctor, she found herself suddenly worried by her clothing and messy hair. 

Which was utterly absurd. It wasn’t as if he cared at all about her wardrobe choices.

Still, the idea of them sleeping under the same roof unnerved her. It had been a long time since she’d had someone from the opposite sex staying the night. Either way, her exasperating classmate certainly hadn’t crossed her mind.

She bit her lip.

Ok that was a lie. Being honest she might have thought about it a couple of times. Mostly drunk. She always felt guilty the day after. And pissed. It left her wishing she could hate him again, like she did on sophomore year when he was truly a rude idiot. But no matter how hard she’d tried, his wits and dumb jokes had slowly changed her perspective of him. Not to mention those deep dark eyes and wicked smile of his. It only took a pair of tequila shots to start fantasizing about running her lips along that jaw. FINE, it didn’t take any tequilas to do that. But sober she had a tiny bit of control over her too-creative mind. Drunk Jude had already undressed him in her dreams once. Twice?

And now Cardan was outside, lying down on her comfy couch. Staying the night.

Jude chewed her inner cheek. This was a nightmare. 

As quiet as possible, she opened the door and peered outside. He was nowhere to be seen. Maybe some ancient deity took mercy on her and vanished him to oblivion. That or he was probably in the bathroom, so she tiptoed her way to the modest kitchen. 

She’d just finished preparing her chai tea when the bathroom’s door opened. Decided to ignore him, she kept her gaze down. 

At least until she caught a glimpse of him with the corner of her eyes. That, snapped her attention back. Oh no, no no no no.

“CARDAN GREENBRIAR WHAT ARE YOU DOING?”

“I...what?” 

“Could you please… I don’t know, maybe put a fucking shirt on?!” She could already feel her blood gathering on her cheeks. 

He paused and quirked an eyebrow. “For your information, Duarte, I tend to sleep naked. These pants are a sign of my consideration to you, since we’re at your place.” 

The goddamn idiot was made of marble. Jude knew he wasn’t precisely one of those big muscular men, not that it meant he didn’t have everything in place. His well formed shoulders and arms were visible even with clothes, and now she could admire the slightly marked muscles of his torso all the way down to the V that disappeared under his pine-green pants. His shoes were off too. 

“Are you blush-” He started, only to be cut by her murderous voice.

“Good night, Cardan.” Taking her cup, she crossed the place with big steps, slamming the bedroom’s door behind her. 

Leaning against the wood, she heard the couch creak as he laid down. Her breathing evened a little a few minutes after. 

Shit, that had been rude. Even if he’d imposed his presence there he was still a guest, her mind scolded her. A really hot guest. No no, don’t think of that now.

As silently as she could she opened the door again. And pressed a hand to her mouth to muffle her laugh at what she saw.  

Cardan’s legs hung over the couch’s arm. Which made sense, considering how tall he was, but right now it only looked bloody ridiculous, and kind of adorable. She tried to ignore the guilt that pierced her heart again. He seemed stiff. An idea shone on her mind. A terrible terrible idea.

“Cardan?” She whispered.

He hummed in response.

She swallowed and walked towards him. “You can’t sleep in there.”

He scoffed and looked at her through hooded eyes, dark and deep made her heart skip a beat. “If you’re trying again to convince me to leave…”

“I’m not.” Jude blurted, passing a hand over her curls. Somehow words seemed to stuck in her throat. “I mean- even when you are completely ignoring me about you not needing to be here… I guess I… What I try to say is-”

“Jude Duarte is babbling. Gods, now I’m intrigued.” He breathed, propping himself on his elbows.

She crossed her arms and tilted her head elusively. It was humiliating how easy it was for him to put her on edge. “Shut up will you? You can’t stay on the couch, it’s small and uncomfortable… And I, well, I happen to own a double bed.” 

Smooth, girl, smooth.

“Trying to lure me into your bed? So soon?” He teased, flashing her a smile, yet his joke didn’t reach his eyes. Something in them was different, they were wider, intense.

“You’re intentionally being an asshole.” She said, gritting her teeth. This time his tricky words and good looks wouldn’t affect her. She couldn’t allow it. “I just meant that we can both sleep there. Like, as far away as the bed allows but at least you could rest.”

For a second he just looked at her. Not mocking or rude, she couldn’t place the expression in his face. His jaw set, chest raising and falling slowly. “You don’t have to, Jude. I’m ok in here.”

“Don’t lie. Besides I’d feel better too. Not because- Ugh, I’d feel better knowing that I could at least make your staying more bearable, I guess.” That wasn’t so bad. Yet. And honestly she couldn’t tell if it was worse if he accepted, or refused. 

Back in her room an awkward silence filled the atmosphere as both laid side to side. Somehow, even if they were not touching, Jude could feel the heat of his skin. Her heart hammered so fast she swore he could listen to it.

“So…” He started.

Panic filled her senses, she needed to cut any conversation before saying or doing something she’d regret later. “There’s no need to mention it, just go to sleep… please.” She rolled onto her side, facing away from Cardan. “Good night.”

Jude barely heard him sigh. “Sweet dreams, Jude.”

~

It was hot. Really really hot. Fuck he couldn’t move. How much had he drank last night?

Wait. No, last night he didn’t go out with Locke. He’d said he would spend the weekend with his girlfriend, at least this month’s. Cardan had stopped mocking him for it long ago. 

Eyes still closed, he grimaced and tried to stretch but something held down his arm. As Cardan became more and more aware of his body, the memories of the day before flashed in his mind. The failed meeting with Jude, the flowers he’d spend almost an hour choosing, her body going limp against him, the useless doctor… Jude offering him her bed to sleep.  

That’s when something tickled his neck, startling him. 

No, not something.

Cardan’s eyes snapped open, he looked down and froze when he realized Jude’s body was pressed flush against him, one of her hands resting on his chest. Somehow their legs impossibly tangled. Terrified, he found his own arm encircling her waist, bare skin touching his fingers since her too big shirt had rolled up in her sleep.  

She shifted a little and her nose brushed his neck again, letting out a small breath that sent hot shivers down his body.

Any knowledge of how to move or think completely forgotten. He stared blankly at the ceiling. 

Fuck fuck fuck shit what the fucking fucks. 

[goth-girlfriend]

Hear me out: Reader who is richer than Shoto and Momo combined. They have a reputation of being stuck up and transfer into UA by STRONG recommendation. Everyone avoids her out of fear of being caught in rich wrath. But it’s not until the Bakusquad make a joke with her they realize what a complete idiot/nerd/funny person she is. Denki *makes joke about reader being to rich* Reader *pulls out hundreds to wipe tears and throws them on the floor when the tears are gone* If you can please? 😊❤️❤️

Request: “Sorry to message you! I but I sent a recent ask! I was going to ask if you could add the reader having like mesmerizing long black hair and killer brows and false lashes? Bonus if she ends up with Best Boom Boy!

I love this honestly! I’ll do my best to answer this the best I can! I’m assuming Bakugo right? I hope so, ☺️

Pairing: Katsuki Bakugo x Reader + Friend Bakusquad

🖤💥❤️🧡🖤💚🖤🧡❤️🧡🖤💚🖤🧡❤️💥🖤

Class 1-A was bustling with conversation at the news they’d just gotten. A new student would be joining the class Mid Semester. The daughter of a well known known man in Japan.

The Family name foreign, (L/n), It’s been in Japan no longer than four generations. And they’d already come to sit on the top of the money empire. Being rich and known would be a good thing for anyone aspiring to become a hero. It was a lie, often times press would take chances to start rumors and make false accusations leading the newest generation of (L/n) to be held to a new standard.

“I know! Everyone makes her out to be stuck up, snobby and rude!”

Morning

“Aren’t the (L/n)’s the family the Hero Times magazine compared to other families? If I’m right they said Her family dwarfs the Yaoyorozu, Iida, and Todoroki families combined!”

“I heard she had press locked up and cameras destroyed for taking her picture!”

“Oh! I saw a video from her middle school days! You can’t really make her out, but she brought a girl to her knees in-front of the school! For something she did....”

“Oh! She must be the girl who took down a group of boys because one of them brushed shoulders with her!”

“No way! I heard she got a boy expelled because she thought he was looking down on her!”

“She s-sounds scary, I don’t think I want to talk to her.”

“Yeah, I don’t wanna run the risk of getting kicked out of U.A., not after all the hard work I put in to get here.”

The chatter continued, on the other side of the door, hearing every comment stood (Y/n), her brows furrowed slightly in anger. She released the tension in her brows, they rested in their usual place. Her brows fell into her natural RBF as she sighed, she looked at the Principal, the dog/bear/mouse beside her smiled and knocked. It was answered by the Teacher she had met not to long again Erased Head, or as she’d be introduced. Shota Aizawa.

“I’ll leaver her in your capable hands, make sure she gets a good view on what U.A. iS really about.” He smiled and waved at the teacher and left without word.

Aizawa let the girl enter and stand at the front of the class room. He stepped over to his desk picking up a black folder with a golden crest printed on the front. It was the information U.A. has asked for when you applied.

“Why don’t you introduce yourself.” Aizawa said staring at at the first part of your folder. A record for my our old school, no tardies, no absences, no missing work, no violations, no record punishment, no reported incidents, No grade under a 98. Class representative, president of 6 clubs, President of Student Body Council, 4.0 GPA, in quirk control you placed number one in your school, In your school Sport festival you came in first, Cultural Festival you’d brought in the most donations and had a recommendation letter from almost every teacher and both the principal and vice principal.

I stood silent for a minute staring the class over, recognizing every weak point. I didn’t bother smiling, they probably would be scared anyway. I looked through the corner of my eyes to the window.

“I’m (y/n) (l/n), call me (l/n), I don’t have time to waste on friends, formalities. You bunch of extras would probably just drag me down, I don’t expect much from any of you. I reached the top of my class with ease, and by just looking at you I can tell it won’t be any different.” I scoffed and looked over the class. I

It definitely struck some nerves.

“WHO THE HELL DID YOU JUST CALL AN EXTRA YOU TRASH.” A blonde boy with red eyes glared at me popping up from his seat.

Pops coming from his hand, I stared his down, “What are you doing?” I scoffed, “With pop rocks like that the only thing you’d be scaring it probably a kitten.”

“I’ll kill you!” He screamed bringing his hand up.

“Bet.” Was all is said, a watched his hand and the bright light starting to form, with a quick hand sign he fell face first into the floor arms bound behind his back.

I watched him struggle, explosions forming in his palms. Everyone watched him, stares no longer on me I turned to Aizawa.

“Take a seat in the back by the window, it’s the only open desk.” He said closing the file.

I looked ahead not bothering to look at anyone or make eye contact, I say down and moved my hair so I wouldn’t sit on it. I brought my hands to my nape and pushed them back pushing my hair over my back and into the space between my back and the chair. It felt pooling into the part of the chair I didn’t take and overflowing on sides where he chair didn’t catch. It dangled just an inch from the floor. I held my bag beside me. As I got adjusted to my seat and finally looked ahead to the front of class. I felt stares as I started to pull out my notebook, pen, and pencil. 🖤

I ignored it and went about my business, by the end of the day I heard whispers of why the things I used were so expensive. They hadn’t seen my phone yet, it’d definitely kill them if just a brand note book had them like this. The day was finally coming to an end, during lunch I stayed in class, afraid of sitting alone, I’d rather be alone and unseen rather than alone and stared at.

I sighed and looked at my bag, class was coming to an end for the day, and Aizawa was standing at front in his sleeping bag. Everyone was talking, some sitting on desks. I pulled out my phone, over a thousand notifications on my public social media’s, my dads manager saying I need to become friendlier with the public because of the appearance the press keeps trying to force onto me.

‘I set up some social media accounts for you just post about your day, make some friends post about them, just show the public you aren’t who they’re trying to make you out to be.’

I scoffed at his words but nodded just agreeing, if it’s for my dad I’d try my best. So here I am switching between accounts and now on public Snapchat scrolling through chats answering a few and adding people back so it feel more ‘personal’

“Do you see that?” I heard a whisper.

“Do you think it’s real?”

“It’s huge! If it’s real it must cost a fortune!”

“Look it up.....”

The room was silent for a minute,

“No way, the company only made a few and they sold for 48.5 million, and that was an IPhone six, that’s literally the newest iPhone, so it ages to be worth double even triple what the six was!”

“Go ask,” “Dude, no you go ask.”

“I’m scared,” “You probably should be.”

The bell rang and I was up and gone, no point in sticking around. I found a stair case, it led up to the roof. I followed it, it was so high. I walked over to the railing, I watched people pour out rushing to dorms or wherever else. I dropped my bag on the gravel floor and reached for my phone in my pocket, I held up my camera to the sun, the sky was turning orange. I took a picture, the sun rays peaking through the clouds.

I waited it out a bit longer, I felt a smile graze my face for the first second time today. My friend was posting on her story pictures we’d taken last year today. We skipped school to go to arcades, she met her boyfriend of one year now, we had boba, bought a bunch of merch, and just stayed out till night had claimed the sky. We walked home, bags in tow, uniforms scrunched up, cheeks sore from laughing and smiling the whole day.

Just as I finished the story I got another notification, a message from her. I opened it it was a video, unknown to us it was my last day at my old High school.

“Awww, I love you!” She hugged me, I hugged her back, “Love your too loser.”

“We’ll be best friends and together forever right?” She smiled as we rocked back in forth in the hug.

“I wouldn’t leave you for the world.” I laughed.

“Well just act like I’m not here,” her boyfriends voice in the background.

“I will, bros before.....hoes.....” she laughed and I smiled shaking my head.

“Come on, ill pay dinner.” I said and the video stopped.

‘You loser 😭 I didn’t feel like crying today, it’s my first day of school.’

‘Then you shouldn’t have left me 😭

‘I didn’t even know 😢’

‘🤔 Mhm, we need to meet up soon, it’s only been a day but I already miss you 😢’

‘Aight Bet.’

‘A challenge? 👀’

‘Saturday the usual? 😎’

‘I accept your invitation.’

The conversation ended and I headed to the dorms. This repeat for the next few days, I met with my friend Saturday and told her about my dads managed, she agreed every weekend we’d meet up and feed the public. After a month of this I was sitting in class minding my business, I cracked a smile at my phone and quickly wiped it away realizing I was still being watched.

“Sooo, (l/n)?” I looked up, the boy everyone called Denki leaning on my desk.

I cocked a brow, “Hm?”

“I’m in need of money, and I’ve been shot down twice, sooo, let’s make a bet a gamble really. If you win I’ll pay you, but if I win you pay me.” He sounded so cocky, I squinted at him brows furrowed.

I reached into my bag bringing out my wallet “I don’t waste time just take a donation.” I pulled out six hundred and handed it over like it was nothing.

“Oh....thanks? I guess it’s easier to pay people off when your loaded,” It sounded more like a joke.

I felt a small smile and pulled out another hundred, “Sometiwms you have to buy friends, it’s sad I know.” I patted fake tears and dropped the money ont he floor.

“But you know what they say,” I held the hundred out to him, “You feel better when you cry in a Ferrari.” I let out a single laugh, and then realized the mistake I made when I smield as he laughed.

“I knew you weren’t completely heartl-” I cut him off,

“Don’t talk about it, I’ll pay you off to never mention it.” He laughed and smiled a hand reaching to the back of his neck.

“Call us friends and you won’t even have to pay me.” He smiled.

“Deal.” I answered.

He opened his phone and held it out, “here add your number.”

I sigehd and added my number, he sent me a message and I saved him number.

“Alright new friend, I’ll see you later.”

He waved and walked off as the bell rang.The next day I was dragged to lunch and sat between Denki and Bakugo. I don’t know what to do, so I just drank water, I tried to talk to Mina when she talked to em but they all seemed so tense except for Denki.This became my schedule for the weeks to come.

“I’m hungry,” I grumbled into my phone.

Denki had FaceTimed me at 2 in the morning.

“Then go eat, nobody’s up except you and me.” He shrugged sitting on his bed under his blanket.

“Alright, I’ll be back. so just stay here.” I propped my phone up he had a view of my room from the prop my phone was on.

“Oooo, even your room looks like it belongs to a rich girl. Definitely fancier then Yaoyorozu’s.” He looked around to see what he could.

“Nice, I’ll be back I’m going to find.... dinner?”

“MKay.” Was all he said as he yawned.

I grabbed my second phone and popped in my AirPods, I started to play my music on shuffle. Making it to the Kitchen I was vibing with my music and getting into it. I started to make a sandwich and doing weird dances. I smiled and finally started to Clean up.The song Falling for you, started to play and for some reason my mind went to a certain blonde. I smield to myself, thinking about him. I fluffed my hair and ran my finger over my lashes. I felt the tips of my hair brushing my bare legs.

I smiled and picked up my sandwich and started a new dance with hip movement when the song Hotel Room Sevrvice came on. I started to turn to walk away stopping when I met familiar eyes.

“So, the edgy princess isn’t who she acts to be.” I swallowed, staring at him, his biceps were huge, especially in that muscle shirt.

I got a message form Denki, I’d given him my second number, “SOMEONES HEADED YOUR WAY!”

“Heeeyyy Bakugo....” I was caught, no point in hiding.

“What are you doing up this late?” He asked unamused.

“Well,” I looked at my sandwich, “I was looking for food but an even better snack walked in.” I winked at him.

He made a grunt.

“No? Not Good enough?” I asked an dlwaned against the counter.

“No.”

“How about are you a tombstone cause is nat you on top of me,” I did finger guns this time putting my sandwich down.

“Anything better?” He asked his eyes narrowing.

“Are you a sinning ship? Because I really wanna go down on you.....” I didn’t fight back the smile.

I heard him cough, and I smiled as I noticed a very faint blush.

“Want me try again?” I asked with a cheeky smile.

He didn’t answer he just looked at me,

“You can call me a coffin cause I want you be in-“ I couldn’t finsh I looked and licked my top lip, I assume she understood what I meant but wanted to finsh “inside me.”

At that point I forgot my hunger, I was hungry something else, nothing particularly dirty but some attention.

“Well Katsuki,” I casually walked over to him pushing myself into his side tilting my head onto his shoulder and looking up at him. “I know we definitely have a lot of bad reactions, but I say we should experiment with this chemistry we have going on.”

I pulled his left arm from across his chest and held his hand between my palms, “You look like you’d enjoy someone who would totally dominate you.” I pulled back and placed a soft kiss on his shoulder.

“What do you say?” I asked squeezing his arm.

“Yeah right,” he scoffed and looked down at me.

“Come on, from what I’ve heard you wanted to be called a king, I can make you feel like a king.” I nuzzled against his shoulder.

“I’ll give you one date, but after that you’ll just be an extra so you’ll have to stay out of my way.” He said and brushed it off like it was nothing.

“Ill make sure you don’t regret it.” I stretched and kissed his cheek and booked it out of there sandwich in tow.

“YOU WONT BELIEVE IT.” I screamed at Denki who was still on face time.

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

“Soooooo?” I hugged Bakugo’s waist as the class gathered around in the gym.

Everyone in costume, “You look so fine dressed in your hero uniform.” I said and trailed my hand up the giant gauntlet on his wrist.

“Hm.”He grunted ignoring the stares of disbelief. “Whatever.”

The moment we broke of into our Duos to play an all to competitive game of catch the flag we stopped in the middle of the trading grounds, I was pulled into his chest, his right hand brushing my hair from the top of my head to my lower back. “Your hair is so long,” He mumbled I felt him take a hand full and pull on it, I was weak in the knees almost instantly.

I looked up at him batting my eyelashes, “There you go batting your fake lashes just to distract me.” He grunted.

“I’d agree with you if they’re weren’t real.” I smield and blinked slowly.

“Well aren’t you just gorgeous.” He snarled and he kissed the top of my head

“Now out of my way Extra I’m leading you so don’t leave my side or get in the way.” He stepped aside and looked down at me.

“You and I both know your better at taking Commands. But I’ll play obedient, only for you Katsuki.” I winked at him.

He turned with a growl, “Let’s just go beat that damn nerd.”

[rebelwheelssoapbox]

Did New York State Give Disabled People COVID?

By Michele Kaplan Spoilers: Yes. Now, am I suggesting that the leaders of New York State got together one day in a dimly lit room, grinning deviously, as they started to brainstorm on how they could intentionally harm the disability community? No. But they also didn't go to great lengths to protect us either.

And yes, there were a number of politicians who are allies, and I am not negating their efforts, but at the end of the day, I am writing this as a disabled New Yorker who is now a longhauler. This was not inevitable, unavoidable, this was created. It could be validly and reasonably argued, that some New York State politicians absolutely knew the harm they were going to cause and proceeded regardless. Like Governor Andrew Cuomo, formerly revered, now met with calls to resign. How peculiar that people rarely include the fact that he knowingly sent 9,000 COVID patients to nursing homes in said calls. Back in May (2020), New York Times reported that 1/3 of all COVID fatalities happened in institutional settings and this number was before it came out that Cuomo attempted to downplay the number of deaths.

[image description: colorful graphic of a woman with slightly tan skin and short gray hair wearing a mask. she is dressed casually but stylishly  with a neck scarf, glasses, denim shirt and backpack. The text reads “what’s next in the covid-19 fight? now, we all need to get tested often even with no symptoms, to keep reducing the spread”] Interesting how prisons are experiencing similar problems during the pandemic, as that too is a place where you can not social distance. It also begs the question: why do nursing homes have so many things in common with prisons? All the while, Cuomo was going to great lengths to push massive cuts in medicaid and healthcare funding before and during the pandemic – including funding for hospitals, all so the ultra-rich, wouldn't have to pay their fair share of taxes. So, it's no wonder that there is a massive campaign from the people to #TaxTheRich, as the disability community was far from being the only marginalized demographic facing the devastating consequences of his actions.

original photo is via https://affecttheverb.com/ [image description: a photo of six disabled people of color smile and pose in front of a concrete wall. Five people stand in the back, with the Black woman in the center holding up a chalkboard sign reading "disabled and here." A South Asian person in a wheelchair sits in front. The text at the bottom reads "hashtag tax the rich" with an orange / yellow gradient and black shadow behind it. There is a white sign leaning against the person on the right, with text that reads "A failure to tax the rich while cutting services for marginalized communities is an act of violence."] Why do the wealthiest New Yorkers have the lowest tax burden? Why should the rest of us scramble for crumbs, in some instances, compromising our basic safety, all so that the ultra-rich can have even more? I've heard people say that austerity is an act of violence, and I believe it's true. And to be clear, as a survivor myself, I unequivocally stand in absolute solidarity with the women who came forward, sharing their stories. I just don't think sexual harassment should be the only reason he is called to resign. The moment he knowingly sent COVID patients to those nursing homes, should have been enough. All the talk about how we must protect the vulnerable. All the soundbites about how they cherished the workers, the ones they called essential, those applauded and declared as heroes of the frontline, and yet those who were not treated as such. Hurrah for empty rhetoric. Why was this (among other unethical actions rooted in austerity,) not seen as a reason to remove him from power? Do we not believe we deserve better?

How did I get COVID, courtesy of New York State? It might seem unlikely, considering I only left my apartment twice in the last 12 months, with a mask of course. Refraining from visits from friends and family, the only people who were in my home were PCAs (personal care attendants) who I rely on for assistance. However, for reasons that remain unclear, there is no mandatory COVID testing policy within these home health care agencies. This was not a fluke, this is a widespread problem.

I heard stories of home healthcare workers dying (on the job, in the office), and while all employees were encouraged to get tested, unlike with the flu shot, a person could still work regardless if they've been tested or not. If you feel sick, don't come to work, they were told, but this alone is not enough, as one can be asymptomatic and still spread the virus to others. This was common knowledge and yet?

There I was, November 2020, with a persistent 18+ day fever (among other COVID symptoms), with no idea who gave me COVID, and with an abysmal lack of access to actually get tested. In New York City, I had to wait three months just to get a blood test at home, which I later found out, was not even the right kind of COVID test if you currently have it. I had zero access to the nose or saliva tests, as I could not travel (due to the fever) even to the local testing sites or urgent care centers in my neighborhood. And while New York City had a program where they'd send you a free saliva test kit, it was only if you could prove that you came in contact with someone with COVID. But since there was no mandatory testing for PCAs, I could not. (And yes, I explained my situation to the city employee I spoke to about the program, but they would not or could not make an exception. I also wrote a local politician for help, but I never got a response.) But surely I could go to the hospital and get help there? No, that too was not an option. For in the state of New York (and sadly with several states during the pandemic), there is a state criteria (think capitalism meets eugenics), that basically says when the demand for ventilators is greater than the supply, not every COVID patient is viewed as worth saving. And surprise surprise, disabled people like me were not seen as having the same value as our able bodied peers. Fun fact: Hitler also believed that disabled lives were not worthy of living. To be clear, I am not calling anyone here a Nazi, but I am absolutely suggesting that it would behoove society to reexamine that shared belief. I remember once my fever subsided, I went to urgent care as my oxygen was dipping as low as 88%. And the urgent care doctor said “If your oxygen goes below 90%, even if in time it stabilizes (as mine does if I remain silent), you need to go to ER.” Only as a disabled person, I could not. And yes, the state criteria is not always in effect, but it can go into effect at any moment in time – and then what?

[image description: photo of Michael Hickson, a black disabled man who is grinning and looking at the camera. He is sitting in a motorized wheelchair] RELATED: Disability rights group, ADAPT of Texas Protests Hospital Killing of Michael Hickson, A Black Disabled Man RELATED: Disability Rights Activists Sue Cuomo over Ventilator Discrimination But surely someone, the city, the state thought of a backup plan, so that the people impacted by the state criteria would not be left in the lurch? No, they did not. When I explained why I could not go to the hospital to the urgent care doctor, he became flustered. “Well... but you have to, it's medically dangerous for you ... not to go” to which I replied “It's dangerous for me to go.” In that moment, it was obvious that he did not know what to do other than to say “I'm sorry.” Why was there not a backup plan? Is the city and state nonchalant when it comes to disabled people being harmed and possibly dying? Did they forget? The city and state both have designated departments about disability. So, what happened? And while I go to great lengths to rise up and feed my soul as needed, as a disabled person, I am angry, I am sad and I am tired on so many levels. Even before the pandemic, me and my community (who exists within every marginalized community), were fighting cuts to medicaid and home healthcare services in New York , so we wouldn't be forced from our homes and into the institutions and nursing homes, including the ones that Cuomo a year or so later would knowingly send COVID patients to.

[image description: tiled image of the New York State license plate, with the word ableism on each plate. the plates are normally dark blue and white but this image has a faded rainbow overlay on it]

And then... the pandemic hit, and politicians like Mayor DeBlasio said plenty about how we must protect seniors and “the vulnerable”, but didn't even mention disabled people till much later. Like austerity, disability erasure is too an act of violence. And then I got COVID, courtesy of the state and a lack of protective policies. My oxygen dips too low on a daily basis. The other day, I left a dear friend a mere 5 minute audio message and my oxygen levels dipped down to 92%. I cough my brains out every morning, as there is too much liquid in my chest. (Meanwhile both my doctors agree I am a candidate for at home oxygen support, but my insurance will only cover at home oxygen support, if my oxygen dips too low at night. I suspect they figure that if it goes too low during the day, I should just go to the hospital.) And do note, that I am not suggesting the entirety of this mess was all local government as Trump's role in this is not small. This article is not intended to be fuel for the Cuomo versus Trump, Trump versus Cuomo agenda. I don't want to hear how it's not this party or that party's fault. All sides are guilty.

[image description top: an illustration of a colorful person looking confused asking “Ableism? What’s ableism?” Below that is a graphic with a white background and black “typewriter” font text. It reads, ”Ableism is… (a form of) discrimination.The false idea that disabled people are by default, inferior. When in truth, disability is just another way for a mind and/or body to be.”] Take action. Share this article. Discuss this with your friends. Re-examine any negative or (ableist) ideas you were taught about disability, for as long as we perpetuate the false ideas of abled supremacy, that disability equals inferior, tragic and better off dead, the easier it will be for the system to justify and get away with the oppression. Ask your politicians what happened? I wish that I had the energy to organize an action, more than what I've suggested, but as a longhauler I do not, which weighs on me more than I can say. But know that often when marginalized communities are attacked, a common sentiment you hear is: this is not what this country is about. But if you look at our history, this is exactly what our country is about. This is not new, but that doesn't mean we can't change that.

[IMAGE DESCRIPTION: This graphic is mostly black and white with the exception of 3 colors. The style is minimal. Towards the top in a thick black font, reads the words “Choose.” The two O’s in the word, are larger than the rest of the word, and have a larger red (for one O) and an orange circle (for the other O) in back of them. On top of the first O, is the letter S. To the right of S is a somewhat thin black line that stretches out to the right. Underneath is a black rectangle, with a blue square and red line in it - like a really minimal deconstruction American flag. The S then goes down to include the O, followed by an L and then after the L, the rest of the letters in Solidarity are to the right. To the left is a list (in black font) that reads Racism, Xenophobia, Transphobia, Islamophobia, Sexism, Homophobia, Ableism* (*Discrimination Against Disabled People). Lastly to the right is a black rectangle with a vertical white line cutting through it. It has white text in it that reads “Solidarity is not just a word, it’s an action.” and below that in small black font is the url of this site. “whatisableism.tumblr.com”]

[laisaxrem]

Chapters: 5/? Fandom: Naruto Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Relationships: Haruno Sakura/Hatake Kakashi Characters: Haruno Sakura, Hatake Kakashi Additional Tags: 50 Types of Kisses - Writing Prompts, Prompt 46 - A lingering kiss before after a long trip apart, I’m an idiot, I had read wrong, so I corrected the prompt, I said you that I’m an idiot Summary:  Kakashi. If you reply to this letter by telling me that you will be late again, know that it doesn't matter, I understand perfectly. Hokage's duties come first, I've always told you. Also because now I have someone else to keep my bed warm at night, so I don't need you anymore. Sakura

.

.

.

It had been a long and tiring month. Kakashi had been summoned by the Daimyō and what must have been a short visit of less than a week had turned into thirty-four days away not only from his beloved Village but above all from his beloved wife. Obviously when he had realized he wasn’t coming home on schedule, he had Sakura send a messenger hawk assuring her that he would be back by the end of the week. He had had to send two more messages of this kind and finally, on the twenty-fifth day, had summoned Pakkun asking him to come and see Sakura, make sure she was okay, and maybe stay with her until he returned.

Now that he finally saw the gates of the Village, Kakashi accelerated his pace. In the pocket of his uniform he heard the creaking of the paper of the last note that his wife had sent him and that he had read and reread in the last few days.

Kakashi.

If you reply to this letter by telling me that you will be late again, know that it doesn't matter, I understand perfectly. Hokage's duties come first, I've always told you.

Also because now I have someone else to keep my bed warm at night, so I don't need you anymore.

Sakura

As soon as he had read it for a moment he was baffled. Then he had burst out laughing and took pen and paper to answer… which he had never done because the Daimyō had called him urgently. From there he had returned to his apartments only to throw himself into bed for a few hours and take a quick shower the next morning. Three days later, finally, the Daimyō had given him permission to return to the Village. Kakashi hadn’t had it repeated twice and left the next day when the sun hadn’t risen yet. Throughout the journey he had forced his escort to keep pace; his goal was to get home by evening: he wanted to arrive before Sakura went to bed, he wanted to take her in his arms and hold her close and kiss her until he fell asleep.

Too bad he hadn’t come to terms with his two babysitters. Genma had started muttering about a hypothetical sprained ankle in the middle of the morning but Kakashi had ignored him. He had not been able to ignore, however, Tenzō’s insistent chakra which a couple of hours later had started to glow in waves like fire; it was a clear warning sign from his ANBU team’s taichō and for a while Kakashi was able to ignore it. It was nearly noon when he had had to give in to the insistent chakra pulses and signalled Genma and Sai to stop for lunch; he had given them a little over forty minutes, mostly because Kakashi realized that his head had started to hurt and he needed to rest (oh, he would have come up with a way to make Tenzō pay for that, that was for sure).

They had taken two more breaks, much to Kakashi’s despondency (although, as the sun went down on the horizon, it was increasingly clear to him that the chances of being able to return to the Village before evening were slim or nil) and it was dark when they finally entered the gates of Konoha.

Kakashi did not want to do anything but leave his escort there and run home but he knew he had to go to the office first: the next morning he would have to meet the full Council and update them so he needed to have all the documents in order. Shikamaru was waiting for him there and a part of Kakashi was amazed (it was tragically far beyond his usual schedule); but on the one hand he was grateful because thanks to his help he got the last chores done in half the time.

Almost two hours later Kakashi closed the file he had in front of him with a sigh.

«I’m sorry, Shikamaru, but I really have to go for today», he announced, casting a worried glance at the wall clock. Shit.

His young friend nodded and began to collect the papers neatly.

«Sakura will be mad, huh?»

«Mmm… Maybe», he conceded. Then he smiled and added: «She wrote to me that she found someone else to warm her bed».

After a second of amazement (Kakashi was happy to have said it just to see his usual bored expression give way to a pair of wide open eyes) Shikamaru laughed and rubbed the back of his neck absently.

«Good luck, then».

Too exhausted to run but with his chakra at a frighteningly low level, Kakashi weighed his alternatives and, with a nod to Shikamaru, grabbed his backpack and used the Shunshin to leave the office and reappear outside his home (he knew that Tenzō hated it when he did and that awareness was enough to compensate for the severe dizziness that hit him upon landing).

When he opened the front door he was greeted by darkness and silence.

«Tadaima», he announced in a low voice as he gently placed his backpack on the cabinet in the genkan and tidied up his sandals.

For the first time in a month, Kakashi felt he could breathe perfectly and the fatigue and frustration he had been carrying around all that time faded away from his body.

Part of him wanted nothing more than to run to their bedroom and wake Sakura, lose himself in her embrace and feel her warm skin against his, her thin but strong fingers stroking his hair. Not to have sex (he didn’t think he had the energy right now) but simply to feel her. But the other part of him knew that it was terribly late and Sakura had a bad habit of overdoing it in the hospital and Academy and wherever they called her, so she deserved every minute of sleep she could carve out.

But…

But Kakashi needed to hear her voice. Damn.

Sighing he went into the bathroom on the ground floor and washed quickly using the little showers: he was tired but not so tired as to take the dirt of the trip to bed and at the same time he didn’t want to risk waking Sakura using the shower upstairs.

A towel around his waist and one around his neck, Kakashi padded up the stairs and went to their room. The fusuma was open and as soon as he appeared on the threshold the man realized that Sakura had not lied in her letter: in fact his wife was not alone in their bed.

With her there was a mountain of dogs.

Sakura was in his half of the bed, lying on her side, the sheets all bunched up at the bottom, Pakkun lying belly up under her right hand. Bull was crouched at her feet, his forelegs intertwined with her legs, and took up most of the bottom of the bed while the other six ninkens were arranged around them: Bisuke had his muzzle pressed against Sakura’s back, Akino was for half lying on Bull, Shiba on his stomach took up almost half of the bed forcing Ūhei to remain curled up in a corner while Urushi managed to carve out a space of his own on Sakura’s pillow and Guruko’s tufted tail was sticking out from under the sheets. Finally a small black ball was curled up on his pillow next to Sakura’s pink head, its tail stretched out to brush her neck: Yoru, their kitten, not even three months old.

Kakashi stared at the scene with his mouth open for a moment, his eyelids blinking fast, and then a laugh escaped his lips. He stopped it immediately but it was too late. Sakura moved and opened her eyes and after a few seconds she brought him into focus.

«Mmm? Kakashi?» she moaned, her voice hoarse with sleep.

He came over and knelt on the floor, one hand going to touch her shoulder left bare by the loose t-shirt she was wearing. That brief contact was like a balm for Kakashi: he knew that he had missed Sakura but until that moment he hadn’t really realized how much.

«Sorry. I didn’t want to wake you up», he whispered, leaning forward to gently kiss the skin he had just stroked.

Sakura’s eyes fixed on his and Kakashi got lost in that green, so much so that he almost didn’t notice her fingers caressing his face slowly, gently, as if to memorize every curve and every corner.

Kakashi could no longer restrain himself and leaned forward to kiss her. He didn’t even open his mouth, too exhausted to think about deepening contact, and Sakura didn’t protest. Yet that kiss on the lips, one of the most chaste they had ever exchanged without the hindrance of the mask, lasted an infinity of seconds, the lips brushing and retracting and then approaching again in a slow dance.

Finally Sakura sighed and rested her forehead against his for a second.

«When did you arrive?»

«Less than two hours ago. I had to go to the office», Kakashi replied, his fingers tracing Sakura’s skin in slow movements. Then his gaze was drawn to the movement of a tail and he smiled. «So you weren’t kidding when you said there was someone else to keep your bed warm, huh?»

«Yeah», Sakura chuckled as her fingers mimicking his. «In fact, maybe they keep a little too hot», she added, nodding her head to the sheets abandoned on the bottom of the bed.

«We can always leave, girly», came the grunt from Pakkun.

The little ninken opened his eyes and scanned them with his stern frown but Kakashi knew it was just a farce.

«Absolutely not», Sakura replied, giving a little scratch to the brown fur of his eldest ninken. «You are not going away, tonight».

«Oh. So I’ll take a futon…» Kakashi began, uncertain. Because the more he looked, the more it became evident that the ninken took up all the space in the bed and that there was no room for him too.

He had to admit, he was disappointed. Yes, the sight of Sakura and the dogs snuggled together warmed his heart, but after thirty-four days away, Kakashi wanted nothing more than to hold her in his arms and fall asleep to the sound of her breath.

«Where do you think you’re going?» Sakura stopped him, grabbing him by the wrist, as if she was afraid of seeing him disappear. «There is room for you too, you know?»

«There is?»

«There is. Come on, Rokudaime-sama, come here», Sakura urged

Kakashi hesitated a little longer, trying to figure out where he could actually lie down. On Bull, like when he was just a six year old boy? Or maybe he could convince Shiba to sleep a little more composed so as to carve out a corner of the mattress?

«Stop being precious and join us», Pakkun scolded him as he idly stretched his legs and slightly changed position. At his words, the other ninkens moved just enough to create a space behind Sakura, small but enough for Kakashi to stretch out beside his wife and hug her. «Or go to the other room: we’ll take care of keeping Sakura company», added his old friend again. Then he closed his eyes.

Giving in to Pakkun’s words and Sakura’s smile, Kakashi got up and shook off the damp towels. He already had one knee on the bed, his eyes looking for the best way to reach his place without stepping on some ears or some tails, when he was interrupted by two brown eyes that glared at him.

«Put on a pair of underwear first», Pakkun growled louder than before. And Kakashi realized that he had never actually worn a pair of boxers after washing. «What are you, a savage?»

Sakura and Kakashi stared at each other for a second, then they both burst out laughing.

[solllaris]

retrograde — 01

↳ here.

PAIRING: Frat!Tom / Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: It takes some convincing, but you ultimately agree to go to a frat party and are pushed out of your comfort zone in more than one way.

WARNINGS: language, underage drinking, anxiety/panic attacks, & insecure thoughts

WORDS: 5874 

NOTE: This series is my baby so please be nice. The reader’s fears and anxieties are basically a reflection of my own, so posting this makes me feel super vulnerable. There were many moments I seriously considered deleting everything I had made for this series because I was too afraid to put myself out there like this, but obviously I didn’t. I really want the reader’s story to help someone or make them feel like they’re not alone because anxiety can make you feel so isolated at times. So to the person reading this right now, to the person with anxiety or depression or whatever: You are not alone. You will never be alone. And I hope this story shows you that somehow. 

          series masterlist — masterlist — add yourself to my taglist!

Tortoise shell glasses the color of honey inched their way down the bridge of your nose again and you would’ve been greatly annoyed if your glazed-over eyes weren’t focused on the large plastic cup of coffee on the table. Fingers still tensed and poised over the laptops keyboard, your attention had shifted for the millionth time to the dark browns streaking through the blonde colored liquid at the bottom and your fried out brain was mesmerized by it. Anything was more intriguing than the open, half-way completed book review on your computer screen where the blinking cursor taunted you from the corner of your eye. At your wits end, you turned away completely with a groan that you stifled with a hopefully motivating gulp of your iced cold brew swirled with caramel.

Shoving the frames further up your nose where they belonged, you nursed the straw of your coffee between your tongue and teeth and glanced briefly about the room. The Learning Commons was fairly full for ten in the morning, but you weren’t too surprised; it was the go-to place to go — not only to get coursework done, but also to just unwind and mess around. That Friday morning hadn’t been any different from the rest and bleary-eyed college students milled about, drinking their caffeine from the God-sent Starbucks in the building and chatting to their friends through sleepy slurs. For a person who really enjoyed people-watching, the Learning Commons was the prime place for you to spend most of your time. You blended in and fell into the shadows just as you liked.

Blinking twice, you realized you had zoned out again. Your vision focused and you saw you had been staring blankly across the room at a boy drooling all over his open textbook. His slackened grip around his mechanical pencil kept allowing it to fall over in his hand, rousing him each time for only a few seconds and then he was out cold again. The sight made you laugh under your breath and you impulsively tipped your head back onto your roommate’s thigh from where she was sprawled out on the couch behind you. Just as you wanted, Scout’s fingers that had been raking through your hair stilled to let you know you had her attention.

“Look,” You said loud enough for her to hear over the raucous youths around you and discreetly pointed across the way at the sleepy boy. “That’s about to be me if I don’t get this paper done soon, I swear to everything Holy.”

A snort exploded through her nostrils and your head jostled with the movements of her leg kicking the guy whose lap they rested in. 

“Jude.” 

Another harsh nudge to his thigh and the frustrated boy mashed a button on his video game controller, a ‘paused’ message appearing on the flat screen TV. A harsh, pointed look urged her to continue so he could get back to his game. 

“That guy over there looks just like you.”

When you glanced back over, the drooling guy had completely given up on at least attempting to remain upright to look like he was getting work done. His cheek was smashed against the pages of his book, pushing his lips out in a pucker face, and his wrecked hair stuck up at odd angles on his forehead. An unbridled bubble of laughter threatened to come up your throat and you had managed to contain it — until a little string of drool puddled on the paper his cheek rested upon. Both you and Scout shook with the force of your giggles and you briefly found yourself thinking that it probably wasn’t that funny, but to a sleep-deprived university student it was comedic gold.

Jude must’ve shoved Scout’s legs off his lap if the loud ‘thud!’ of her feet hitting the floor beside you were any indication. They came dangerously close to knocking over your cup of caffeine — the only thing getting you through the early hours of the morning — and you were quick to snatch it up, cradling it to your chest like a protective mother. Your look of disgust towards your two friends was completely ignored, overlooked by Scout’s cry of protest and Jude’s annoyed, but slightly amused, glare at the girl.

“That’s what you made me pause my game for?” He huffed, tugging his fingers through his dark tufts of hair.

She shrugged, a shit-eating grin on her face as she plopped her warm toned legs back onto his lap. “Y/n said it first, not me.”

You were mid-sip, a mouthful of bitter coffee coating your tongue when you squealed a close-mouthed noise of protest, widened eyes flickering between your friends. 

“I did not!” You cried once you’d successfully swallowed without choking. “I said that would be me if I didn’t finish my paper soon.”

“Lies,” Scout muttered.

Twisting your body to face her, the back of your hand smacked against her bare outer thigh, a loud and satisfying ‘smack!’ emitting from the harsh flesh on flesh contact. Your puppy dog eyes turned to Jude, bottom lip jutting out just slightly and he laughed, the action making his irises twinkle and scrunch closed.

“I’d never say that about you, J,” You said cutely.

He bumped his knee against your right shoulder lightly, jostling you to the side, and rolled his eyes but the tiny upwards lift to the corners of his mouth told you he was far from annoyed.

“Alright, alright, I believe you.” He groaned, quickly flicking his gaze back to the TV and unpausing his game. “Fuck you and your puppy eyes.”

Grinning triumphantly, you sipped your coffee happily and flopped back against the front of the couch. The sleeping computer screen on the coffee table immediately put a pin in your bubble of contentment, an instant frown replacing the bright smile on your lips. You set aside your half empty cup with a heavy sigh and swiped a finger along the smooth track-pad, waking it from its automatic sleep to tuck back into the four page book review for your U.S. History class. The cursor blinked approximately five or six times before you began to type, but you had barely written three words when the glass doors of the Learning Commons burst open and a group of rowdy boys piled through the entrance.

Well, you thought. Maybe just one more day of procrastinating won’t hurt.

A muffled groan sounded from Scout. “Great. Your frat brothers decided to grace us with their presence, J.”

Your fingers went slack over the lit up keys and you slouched defeatedly; at the rate you were going, the outcome of your paper was beginning to look more and more dim, but the fraternity boys couldn’t care less that some people were actually attempting to get their assignments done by their due dates. They joked and jostled each other and you kind of hoped they could feel the blazing burn of your laser-beam glare you shot their way, but their oblivious grins stuck a pin in your wishes. You watched them for a moment longer as they split off, some falling into the snack bar or coffee line while others drifted towards a vacant table or couch; you took that as your cue to pack up your things and traipse across campus to the library. (Why did you pick somewhere so loud to write a whole ass paper anyway?)

Scout managed to tear her attention from her phone long enough to notice you zipping up your bag and beginning to stand. 

She quirked a perfectly shaped brow and asked, “Where are you going? It’s only 10:30; our Psych class isn’t until 12.”

“Thanks for the reminder. I wasn’t aware that the class I’ve been going to every Friday for a month now doesn’t start until 12,” You bit back with the most deadpan tone you could muster.

Jude snorted without taking his eyes off the TV, his fingers never ceasing their rapid movements between buttons on the game controller. Scout responded with a swift kick to said controller (which earned her a string of expletives as he fumbled to retrieve it off the floor) and waggled a chipped nail-polished finger at you.

“First of all, the ‘tude is not appreciated and second, both of your friends are sitting right here so my question is very valid.”

“Okay, rude.” You pouted sulkily as you gathered your hair to tie it up into a bun with the velvety pink scrunchie on your wrist. “And if you must know, I’m going to the library because it’s way too loud in here to write a paper.”

“Ugh.” Scout groaned and threw her legs off the side of the couch, rolling off onto the floor in the most ungraceful maneuver you’d ever witnessed in your life. “I guess I’ll go with you. I still haven’t finished that Biology worksheet due today.”

“Really?” You inquired absentmindedly as you fiddled with your messy bun in the reflection on your darkened phone screen. (She was taking forever and you needed something to do so you didn’t look like a complete moron.) “I finished it like the day she handed it out last week.”

You didn’t even have to look over at the caramel-skinned girl to know that she had rolled her eyes hard enough to get stuck inside her head. “Literally no one asked,” She retorted.

“Mmm, and to think I was actually going to give you all the answers..”

Just as you watched her expression morph into a sickly sweet one, a shrill whistle cut through every conversation in the room. The loud chattering of college students died down to muted whispers until the only distinguishable sounds were the whirring of the old air conditioning unit in the building and the clambering of shoes against wood; once you turned away from Scout you saw that the latter had come from a blonde boy in basketball shorts standing on a table in the center of the room. Kappa Sigma was emblazoned proudly across the chest of the scarlet colored hoodie he wore and you fought the urge to roll your eyes because of course he was in a fraternity.

The blonde frat boy’s voice faintly resonated in your ears, but you turned away from his dramatic display anyway to latch onto the sleeve of Scout’s over-sized Harvard University t-shirt. You insistently tugged on the crimson colored material because you really just wanted to get a head-start on your paper. Instead of relenting and following you, she simply shrugged you off and it was then that you got distracted with one look at a stupidly attractive guy in a stupidly, tight t-shirt.

If you had ever seen someone who was truly poured into a shirt it was this guy. The gray material was stretched taut across his pectorals and abdomen, dipping and curling into each chiseled line on his body. The stitching around the short sleeves looked two seconds away from ripping open as his biceps bulged from the way he stood with his arms crossed over his chest. You didn’t think the view could get any better until your eyes slid further up to a jawline that could probably cut straight through glass and to top it off, a head full of effortless curls—your ultimate weakness. You were pretty sure you were gaping open-mouthed at him at that point, but it wasn’t everyday that you saw a real life fucking angel on campus.

So yes, you gaped at him. Proudly.

Until you were caught...which you were seconds later.

Your heart dipped dangerously low in your chest and for a moment it felt like the warm blood in your veins had turned to ice. That feeling of sudden panic from such a cute guy looking at you prompted you to swiftly turn away; the cold you had felt literal seconds prior shifted to an uncomfortable warmth as the shock of being caught staring shifted to embarrassment. Your brain raced almost as quickly as your heart and you tried to pretend to focus on the blonde guy standing on a table to calm down, but then you made the dumb decision to sneak another peek.

Big, big mistake on your part.

Insanely hot frat guy was still looking at you. Not only was he still staring, but the beginnings of a smirk were forming on his pink lips and maybe he was not-so-subtly flexing his biceps. Seeing the corded muscles ripple and bulge under his tan skin truly was entrancing and if Scout hadn’t grabbed you by the material of your sweatshirt you would’ve stood and stared for a little bit longer.

Fingers snapped in front of your face and you blinked once, twice, three times before she really came into focus. She shot you a funny look and asked, “Seriously, what were you staring at?” She followed your gaze when your eyes instinctively shot back towards the insanely hot frat guy—who had thankfully looked away. “What is wrong with y—ohhh.”

A shit-eating grin stretched across her face and you immediately groaned. “Don’t start, okay?” You grumbled and finally managed to pull her towards the glass double doors. “He’s stupid hot and I was respectfully looking.”

Scout snorted from behind you as you held the door for her, both of you stepping outside and beginning the trek across campus to the library.

“You were point two seconds away from drooling,” She teased, bumping your arm with her elbow.

You felt the heat tickling at your cheeks and ears again, so you quickly changed the subject.

“Anyway,” You said pointedly, shooting her a look that could kill. “What was that whole ‘getting on the table’ display about?”

“Right. I forgot you were a little... preoccupied.” She smirked and dodged your incoming fist, giggling like a maniac. “Okay, okay! There’s a party at the Kappa Sigma house tonight.”

Scrunching your nose up at the mention of a party, you tossed your empty cup of iced coffee in a trash bin as you passed.

“Well, I have a hot date with Doctor McDreamy and I can’t miss it. You know how much I love me some Derek Shepherd.”

Just as you reached for the door handle to the library, she smacked your hand away with a serious expression.

“C’mon!” She whined, her bottom lip jutting out like a child. “You’ve never been to a party with me. It’ll be fun!”

“My definition of ‘fun’ is very different from yours, Scout.”

A sly smile turned her full lips upwards again. “Tom will be there…”

Your brows furrowed as you wracked your brain to put a name to a face. Tom. Did you know a Tom?

“Um. Am I supposed to know who that is?” You asked cluelessly.

Scout groaned. “Tom Holland. The guy you were ogling in the LC,” She explained with a ‘duh’ tone in her voice.

Absentmindedly you fiddled with the strap of your shoulder bag. You were already growing tired of the conversation and wished she’d just drop it; if anyone knew your anxiety situation, it was her and you thought she’d learned by now that you would never set foot in a party. Attending a frat party of all things was sure to bring on a panic attack and you’d rather not hyperventilate in front of a bunch of testosterone-filled college guys. No way in hell.

Exhaling an exasperated sigh, you shifted on your feet tiredly and let your head fall back towards the sky.

“Is that supposed to convince me?” You shifted around your friend and managed to snag the door open before she could stop you. “Because it’s not working.”

Save for a girl lightly snoring on one of the couches and a guy wearing glasses slaving over his keyboard, the library was practically barren. You immediately felt comforted as you traipsed along the outskirts of the large room, like a warm hug after coming home from a long day; except it was barely after eleven in the morning and you were ashamed to admit that you already needed comforting. Whilst another large exhale huffed past your lips at the thought, you dropped your bag down on the worn cushions of a couch pushed under a window and plopped yourself next to it rather ungracefully.

A rather loud thump resounded through the room as Scout carelessly deposited her own things on the floor by a comfortable looking arm chair; she simply shrugged at your warning glance, mumbling “those two are dead to the world anyway” under her breath and turned to pull a black binder from her backpack.

Soon, the silence between you two was filled with the clicking of your fingers across the keys on your laptop and the scratching of her mechanical pencil on paper. It was nice—relaxing even—and you sunk further into the soft couch that hugged your body, your mind only filled with the words you needed to get down to finish your stupid book review.

What kind of history class has to write a book review anyway? This wasn’t English.

You should’ve known it wouldn’t last.

A small wad of balled up notebook paper hit your left cheek, bouncing off and into the crack between the cushions. Before you could retort, she was already whispering vehemently.

“Don’t think I’ve forgotten about the party.” She stabbed her pencil in your direction as she spoke. “You’re going. Plus, I’ll be with you the whole night. Promise.”

Arguing with Scout was like arguing with a brick wall—pointless and you’d never win and you honestly just wanted her to shut up at this point; so even though the idea of standing in the Kappa Sigma frat house while the plaster walls vibrated and bodies jostled around you almost made you want to throw up, you reluctantly agreed to go with her. You tried to convince yourself it wouldn’t be so bad, that your best friend would be at your side the entire night, but you still couldn’t shake the butterflies in your belly the entire day.

Just as you’d expected, you were pretty sure you were this close to blowing chunks in Kappa Sigma’s bushes.

The lawn was crawling with college students bearing drinks and you were thrown into the middle of them, one hand clasped in Scout’s as she led you up to the porch and the other anxiously fiddling with the hem of your gingham printed shorts. You were hyper aware of everything happening around you: knocking shoulders with a short, blonde girl, the loud shouts over a game of flip cup, the bass of the song playing in your chest, and a putrid, skunk-like smell that caught in your lungs no matter what you did. Already you wanted to leave, but one look at your best friend’s excited face had you willing yourself to suck it up and try to have fun.

Clutching onto Scout’s hand like it was your only lifeline, she guided you through the foyer and an expansive dining room before reaching the kitchen and the pressure in your chest lifted enough to calm your racing heart; it was significantly less crowded, only inhabited by a small group of girls and a guy with his head stuck in the refrigerator. You watched as Scout paid none of them any mind and instead helped herself to two red solo cups, pointing the nozzle to the keg in one and letting it fill with the sepia toned beer before doing the same with the other cup.

You had just opened your mouth to protest, but the look she shot you had the words dying in your throat.

“Just trust me, alright?” She said and you let her shove the full cup into your hand. “It’ll help with your nerves.”

For a brief second your gaze flickered to the group of three girls seated at the kitchen island, all huddled together and speaking in low tones. It made your skin prickle and heat up and you wondered if they were talking about you—how out of place you seemed.

The white brim of your cup slotted between your glossed-up lips and you took a hefty swig. You immediately scrunched your face up in disgust at the bitter, watery taste of the ale but you were willing to down it if it drowned out your impending anxiety for the night.

“Ugh.” You cringed and peered at the frothy beer in distaste. “How do you drink this shit?”

Scout just grinned and raised her beer in the air.

“Cheers bitch,” She hummed and downed a gulp big enough to puff out her cheeks with the liquid. “Now drink up.”

So, you did cautiously while she retrieved her phone from her back pocket; you distantly heard her say the words “text” and “Jude” but you were more focused on the guy leaning against the counter a few steps away. It was the same guy who’d been rummaging in the fridge when you came in and it appeared he’d found what he wanted: a bottle of Michelob Ultra that he held by the neck. His other hand was occupied by his phone, his head tilted downwards as he scrolled with his thumb, but then he tipped it back to sip his drink and your heart plummeted.

You wasted no time grabbing Scout by her bicep to get her attention.

“Don’t look now but super hot frat guy, Tom, is literally right there,” You whispered frantically through gritted teeth and tugged her towards the exit.

Of course, she resisted. The “don’t look now” part of your sentence slipped in one ear and out the other because she turned back to glance at him with the subtlety of a hand grenade. Her small squeal had you yanking her back around, your stomach rolling with enough nerves to make you vomit for real this time.

“I literally just said—”

Just after the words left your mouth, Jude sauntered into the kitchen, loudly exclaiming: “Tom, man, how long does it take to get a drink?” Then, his six-foot-three hulking physique lumbered towards you and Scout—which effectively made Tom’s dark brown irises lock onto you. “And why have you guys not answered my texts? We’re about to start another round of flip cup.”

Recognition flashed in his eyes and you wished you were dead. You knew you should’ve stayed in the safety of your dorm with Meredith Grey and Derek Shepherd. Why didn’t you?

Maybe it was because you were the biggest pushover on campus?

Yeah, that had to be it.

“Sorry, mate.” Tom didn’t glance away from you as he spoke. You noticed a smirk playing at his thin lips before it was covered by the open top of his beer bottle when he took a drag. “I guess I got a little... distracted.”

His little jab at you didn’t go unnoticed.

Yep, he definitely recognized you from earlier in the day when you practically undressed him.

Deep down you knew he was just messing with you, but you couldn’t help feeling humiliated—like you were the center of a joke and not the kind of joke where he was laughing with you; suddenly overcome with a need to escape, you ignored his remark and turned to Scout and Jude instead.

“Hey, I think I’m gonna go to the bathroom or step outside really quick.”

You barely heard her concerned voice asking if you wanted her to come with you before you were high-tailing it out of the room and up the dark wooden stairs in the foyer. You took them two at a time and in your haste to ascend them, the smelly beer in your still-full-to-the-brim cup sloshed over the rim and saturated the front of your black shirt and flowy shorts. Your face contorted in discomfort at the feeling of your wet clothes sticking to your skin as you slowed down, reaching the top floor at a more careful pace. The paranoid feeling that everyone was watching you make a fool of yourself began to set in and just as your breathing started to escalate, you ducked into the first bedroom you saw and quickly shut it with a click.

Absentmindedly, you sat your now half empty beer cup on the dresser by the door and slumped back against the wood. The cold doorknob pressed into the bottom of your spine but you didn’t care because all you could think about was the soaked fabric clinging to your front, Tom’s subtle mocking comment, and the feeling you’d felt coming up the steps.

In the back of your mind you knew how dramatic and blown out of proportion you were acting; your anxiety, however, didn’t get the memo. So there you were, panting and quivering in some random frat guy’s room with tears pooling at your lash line. You were beginning to feel nauseous lurches in your stomach and all you wanted was to go home.

You’d never wanted to be here in the first place.

An uncomfortable warmth bloomed in your chest around your heart—a feeling you were all too familiar with. If you had to guess, you assumed it was the way a heart attack might feel. You were panicking for absolutely no reason at all and all that you knew was that you needed to get out of here.

With shaky hands, you pulled your phone out of your bra and wiped away the sticky residue from the beer before composing a new text to Scout.

Sent at 11:33 PM: i feel sick. i think i’m gonna head back to our dorm

Then, feeling inexplicably guilty for not even trying, you typed again as your tears left splotches on your screen.

Sent at 11:33 PM: i’m really sorry

The click of your phone locking sounded like a blaring horn to your over-sensitized body and you slumped tiredly into a desk chair, shoving your phone somewhere on the desk carelessly. You were still shaking and you didn’t know if you were cold or hot and bile had started to burn your throat and in your hazy mind you swore you heard the doorknob turning but who knows?

“Uh, what the fuck are you doing in my room?”

If you thought you were going to throw up before then you definitely were now.

You grabbed the trash bin beside the desk and hung your head over it, the contents of the day emptying from your anxious stomach.

“Christ,” The guy grumbled in annoyance. Didn’t you know that voice from somewhere? “Of course. A drunk girl chooses my room to throw up in out of all the fuckin’ other rooms in this house.”

Shame crept up your neck and made you feel even hotter than you already were. You felt like such a mess—you reeked of alcohol, your hair was damp from a cold-sweat, and a stranger had just witnessed you puking your guts out. Great.

You couldn’t speak. All you could do was take shaky, staggered breaths and sniffle through your tears but you did manage to see who the mean guy in the room with you was. Just as your luck would have it, the guy whose bedroom you’d taken hostage in was none other than Tom Holland.

Your stomach twisted and again you ducked your head back in the bin to puke some more.

“Look. I’m sorry you feel like shit and drank too much but you’ve gotta get outta here.” You felt his large, strong hand curl around your bare bicep to tug you up out of his chair. “C’mon. Time to go.”

It was at that moment Tom finally noticed three things: that you were the girl from earlier in the LC, then again in the frat’s kitchen, that you were shaking like a leaf against him, and that you were struggling to breathe normally. It was clear to him you weren’t throwing up because you were drunk; you were throwing up because you were having a full-blown panic attack.

In his bedroom.

And he’d been nothing but a dick to you so far.

“Woah, hey, hey,” He murmured softly, his voice taking on a much gentler tone. Delicately, he brushed the sweaty hair from your warm cheeks and allowed one of his palms to meet the small of your back. “It’s okay. You’re alright, darlin’.”

You focused all your attention on the quiet hum of his voice in your right ear and the silver cross necklace rising and falling on his chest with each breath. You tried to sync your breaths with his even, steady ones and although it took awhile, you managed to calm yourself down to a non-hysterical state.

Tom’s fingers, however, never faltered in their dance along your spine. “Good girl,” He hummed soothingly.

Tingles tickled at each of your vertebrae.

Good girl. Was he trying to kill you?

Clearing your throat, you set the trash bin beside the desk where it lived and stood up to move closer to the door and away from Tom. You were pretty sure you’d embarrassed yourself in front of a hot guy enough for one day and didn’t want to do anything rash...like jump his bones for calling you a good girl.

You felt yourself getting hot again.

“I’m sorry.” You fiddled with the damp hem of your shirt, unable to meet his gaze. “I just...needed some air and then I spilt beer all over myself and—yeah.”

“Hey, it’s alright.” He shrugged like a girl having a panic attack in his room was normal, then gestured to your ruined outfit. “I’ve got some stuff you can borrow if you want.”

“Oh! No, it’s okay, really—”

“C’mon. That can’t be comfortable,” He said with a raised brow. He was already rummaging through his dresser drawers before you could protest anymore. “Let me help you out, alright? I’ve already been the biggest dick to you tonight.”

You couldn’t argue with that, so you took the clean clothes from his outstretched hand and sent him an awkward smile.

“Thanks. I’ll, um, get these back to you. Sometime.”

He grinned at how awkward and fumbly you were. It was cute. He liked that he was the cause of it.

“Sounds like a pretty good plan to me,” He agreed cheekily, unable to hide the smile on his lips. “Gives me an excuse to see you again, huh, darlin’?”

Oh.

This boy was definitely trying to make you explode and you were two seconds away from doing so, sweat pooling even quicker in areas you didn’t even want to fathom.

Thankfully, before you had the chance to embarrass yourself any further, Tom turned his back on you, chuckling lowly under his breath and urged you to get changed.

As you toed out of your high-tops and peeled your sticky, black shirt from your torso, your attention wavered just as you reached for his heather grey t-shirt. You distractedly grasped the soft material to put it on, but you were too entranced by Tom’s back muscles through his own shirt to follow through.

The fabric was stretched taut over the expanse of his broad shoulders and every little movement allowed you to see the rippling muscle that was underneath it. Your fingers itched to slip under his shirt and feel his toned back for yourself, to lightly dig your n—

“Jude said your friend is waitin’ for you on the porch.” His English twang had you throwing the clean clothes on hastily before he turned back around. “I’ll walk you down.”

All you wanted was to get out of this frat house and into your shower as quickly as possible so you agreed even though you felt like your insides were on fire.

You gathered your dirty clothes and hooked your fingertips into the canvas backs of your shoes before you were ushered out into the corridor. The party seemed to have thinned out a considerable amount with only the occasional person loitering about on the second floor; the thought of someone seeing you with Tom’s baggy clothes on made your cheeks flush and you tilted your head down towards the floor, avoiding anyone’s curious eye. To your anxious mind, it felt like everyone was watching you and Tom descend the grand stairs in the fraternity’s house so you held your gaze with the dark hardwood floor the entire trek to the porch.

His warm palm met the small of your back for the second time that night and you cautiously glanced up into his dark brown irises. You were surprised to see the incredibly soft edge they had taken on and even more surprised by the way your spine instinctively arched against his hand.

A guy had never touched you like this before—it felt intimate and tender and you were a stranger to it.

“Hey.” He had to stoop down towards your ear so you could hear him over the still-blaring music. His breath tickled your neck and his bottom lip brushed the tip of your ear. You couldn’t stop from shivering. “Are you alright?”

No, you weren’t. He was really, really close and your heart was beating dangerously fast again.

“Yeah,” You breathed in reassurance, pushing what you hoped was a convincing smile. “I’m okay. Just tired.”

He didn’t look completely convinced. However, he didn’t push the subject further and you were grateful.

“Alright.” He nodded and it was silent for a split second until you both reached the front door. “You look beautiful in my clothes by the way.”

And then Tom was pushing open the door and there on the porch like he said was a worried Scout. Thankfully, she was way too preoccupied with hurtling questions of “are you okay?” and “what happened?” for her to notice the way your skin was flushed and how you couldn’t quite look anyone in the eye.

The weight of the fingers splayed along the base of your spine disappeared as Scout swept you away from Tom and into her crushing embrace.

“Oh my God!” She shrieked as she hugged you to her, your bundle of clothes and shoes between you digging into your stomach. “You scared the hell out of me. Did you fall in the toilet or something?”

For the first time in what felt like forever, a small snort of a laugh left your throat.

“I’m fine,” You reassured and tangled your digits with hers, tugging her down the porch stairs with you. “And no, I didn’t ‘fall in the toilet.’ I just want to go home and drown myself in the shower.”

“Good. You smell like shit.” Her nose wrinkled. “And please enlighten me on how you ended up in Tom fucking Holland’s bedroom.”

You laughed again and spared a glance over your shoulder.

Tom still stood on the porch, readjusting his backwards hat over his brunette curls. You caught the little smirk on his lips and you swore he winked before Scout was tugging you further up the sidewalk and you were forced to turn back around.

Every inch of your body tingled.

It wasn’t until you stood under the shower head’s chilly spray of water back in your residence hall that you realized you’d left your phone in Tom’s room.

TOM TAGLIST:

@xoxohollands​ ♡ @outshineallthestars​ ♡ @pcterparxer​ ♡ @worldoftom​ ♡ 

RETROGRADE ONLY TAGLIST:

@softholand​ ♡ @sushiinmidnight​ ♡ @stuckonspidey​ ♡ 

[acotartogfan]

19. “Why’s there a pregnancy test in the trash?” for elriel?? I hope your staying safe in these hard times :)

Thank you anon! I hope you’re staying safe too. 

I have to admit, I had a bit of fun with this one.

Goodbye, My Love 

Prompt: “Why is there a pregnancy test in the trash?”

[Revised 12/30/2020]

“This...weed─” Elain tugged on the stubborn little pest furiously, “won’t come─” She gave it a final tug. “Out!” All of a sudden, the weed decided to detach itself from the ground, sending her sprawling backwards with the force of tug. Elain sighed and wiped the sweat from her brow while the sun’s rays overhead beat down on her relentlessly. Gardening wasn’t easy, but at least it gave her peace of mind. Especially with the news she received only two days earlier. She sighed again. The question that had been bothering her all morning now tugged at her conscious. How would Azriel react?

Only a few minutes later, Azriel stomped out of the house comically that Elain almost giggled a little. The front door flew wide open with the force of which he yanked it open. Elain grimaced. 

This was not going to be pretty.

 Elain looked up to the sky and quickly sent a silent message to her neighbors as an apology for the unpleasant noise that was about to come forth., and rose up to meet him. She huffed a sigh just as Azriel’s words came tumbling out. “Why is there a pregnancy test in the trash?”

Elain merrily ignored him. Without even looking, she could feel the fury emanating off of him in waves.

His response was instantaneous.

“Elain.”

She turned around as dread knotted her stomach tight. Azriel was livid. In his hand, he gripped the pregnancy test stick, holding it up for her to see.

“Azriel, it’s not as clean as you think─”

“Do I look dumb to you?” He sneered.

A pang of hurt lodged itself in her chest, squeezing.  Azriel had never talked to her this way, nor had she ever seen him so angry. She wouldn’t let it show, though.

Elain would play this game with him, and she would play it well. Keeping a poker face, she turned away from him and carelessly blew a few strands of hair away from her face, all the while calmly pulling off her dirt-caked gardening gloves. She stood up and faced him, hands on her hips.

“What do you want.” It was more of a statement than a question.

“I want to know─” Azriel waved the pregnancy test around wildly “─why the hell you didn’t tell me you were pregnant.”

Sure enough, the pregnancy test revealed two vertical lines─she tested positive.

Elain flatly glared up at him. “I was going to tell you.”

Azriel’s face contorted into a mask of rage. “When?” Good. She wanted to piss him off. This would be fun.

Serves him right for being such a dick about it.

She rolled her eyes. “When the time felt right.”

Sweat was beginning to form on her nose. The heat was getting to her.

Azriel scoffed and rolled his eyes in tandem. “Really.”

“Really.” She coated her words in sugar and served them to him on a poisoned silver platter. While her voice was honey-sweet, her expression said of something entirely different.

“Stop. Mocking me.” Each word was heavily punctuated.

“Me?” She gasped, a hand flying to her chest while she looked around in disbelief. Her voice jumped an octave. “I would never!”

Poison dripped off her words like honey.

“Elain.” He gritted out.

“Azriel.” There was the sticky sweetness again. She batted her lashes at him.

His anger was seemingly fading into exasperation. “Why didn’t you tell me? News like this is big.”

“It isn’t that big of a deal,” she shrugged nonchalantly.

“Not that big of a deal!? We’re having a baby, Elain!”

“Say that a little bit louder?” she asked, looking around the neighborhood for emphasis. She cocked a sarcastic eyebrow at him. That would make him mad. Just what she wanted.

Anger rolled off Azriel in silent, furious waves.

Elain absentmindedly picked at the dirt under her nails. After a beat, she said, “You think I don’t know that? Like I said, I was waiting for the perfect time to tell you.”

“There is no such thing as perfect timing.” Azriel’s voice had a sharp edge to it.

“Well, it’s not like I was going to tell you now,” she scoffed.

He laughed a thin, hollow, laugh. Elain hated it. “Then when? Six months from now, perhaps?” 

It was her turn to laugh. The mocking laugh she let out sounded weird to her ears. Shock flashed across Azriel’s features. 

“No. Tomorrow.” 

Azriel blinked, startled.

The winged male went silent, but his fists were clenched tightly at his sides, trembling with wrath. If he was surprised, it didn’t register on his face.

“Let’s continue this inside,” While she still had the power, it would be good to use it now. People were starting to stare.

She managed a tight smile at a lone passerby staring at them.

A single drop of sweat dripped down her temple. The sweltering heat engulfed them. 

She raised her eyebrows at him. His barely contained temper made the vein in his forehead pulse wildly. “Azriel. Inside.”

Azriel narrowed her eyes at her, and strode purposefully for the house, his fury evident in every step he took. The plants wilted in his wake. Or, at least, that’s what it felt like.

Elide sighed for the third time that day and looked mournfully at her plants. “He’s being dramatic, isn’t he?” she whispered to her camellias. She huffed and wandered back to the house. A gentle breeze blew behind her.

Elain found Azriel sitting at the dining table, hands folded methodically, and stiffer than a board. He looked up from his tightly folded hands. The whites of his knuckles glared unkindly at her. “You were going to tell me tomorrow?”

“Well…” She let the silence consume the word.

“Well?” He bit out.

Elain suddenly found the bare tabletop to be of utmost interest.

Azriel shot out of his seat, slamming his hands face-down on the tabletop. Elain flinched violently. “Well?!” He roared. The glass cupboards rattled behind them. 

She shot out of her seat too. Backing down wasn’t an option. He made his move, now she would make hers.

“I lied.”

Azriel scoffed unimpressed, and folded his powerful arms, his wings slightly flaring to help keep himself balanced.

“Is that what you wanted to hear?” 

Azriel  said nothing, just waited like a prey waiting to strike.

“People. Lie.” She coated the words with venom and hurled them at his feet.

He raised an eyebrow. “I know they do,”

“Then?”

He waited a second before answering. “I thought we promised not to lie to each other.”

Elain’s heart skipped a beat.

The unspoken words hung in the air. Especially with what happened last time. Lucien─they were both drunk, and it was a grave mistake on her part. She thought she had hid it well from him, until he found a tie that wasn’t his in their laundry. Lucien’s.

“This isn’t like what happened last time! You use that against every time─” she jabbed her finger onto the tabletop, twice to emphasize her point “─we fight. It isn’t fair!” Elain’s voice was reaching a feverish pitch. “Stop using that against me! It was a mistake!”

Azriel smiled a cruel smile. Anger bubbled in her. “You know what you said when you cheated?” He spat out the last word with revulsion. Disgust flared in his eyes. “You said it was no big deal.”

As her resolve began to crumble, tears began to well in her eyes, threatening to spill over. “Do not.” Elain pointed accusingly at him. “I made a mistake, and I apologized. Profusely. And you are the worst kind of person to use that to discredit me in every argument we have. Was my apology not enough? When I cried and begged at your feet, was that also not enough? Or did it just give your ego a boost?” Now she was the one trembling with fury. Suddenly, their dirty, poorly-lit kitchen seemed too small for the volume of their voices.

Azriel looked her dead in the face, and scoffed. A stray tear streaked down her face of its own volition. Elain furiously wiped it away. Something of triumph glittered in Azriel’s eyes. “Once a cheater, always a cheater,” he sneered.

Her heart twisted with fury and hurt. She hated this. Hated him. Hated how he could make her feel like she could conquer the world, then take that power away with a mere snap of his fingers, powerless and reeling. “Stop it!!” She screamed hysterically. Picking up a clean plate beside her, Elain weighed it for a fraction of a second before hurling it at the Illyrian’s head. As expected, he ducked it smoothly as the plate shattered loudly against the wall behind him. She hated him even more for missing it. “You truly are the scum of the earth!” She sobbed. Tears flowed freely from her eyes. “I can’t do this anymore,” she whispered brokenly. “Get out of my house.” 

“So you can run back to Lucien? I don’t think so.”

“I told you already. I have no feelings for him.” Elain gritted out.

“Oh do you? A few months ago, Lucien confessed to me that he loved you.” Azriel toyed with his Siphoned rings. “Did he tell you that? That he loved you?”

Elain stood, trembling with fury. 

“Get out of my house.”

“No, actually, I think I’d prefer to stay.” Azriel smirked. 

Elain clenched her fists to keep herself from hitting him. 

“Did you love him?” He deadpanned.

“I did. I still do.” 

“Then why are you here with me?”

“I don’t know,” Elain admitted honestly. 

They were at an impasse. 

“So tell me. When you were with me, did you ever cheat?” Elain folded her arms. 

Azriel arched an eyebrow and smiled an ugly, hideous smile.  “Of course not. I’m not a whore.” It would have been better, if he had yelled. Anything would have been better than this. 

New tears streamed down Elain’s face. “You don’t mean that.”

‘Oh, sweetheart. I do.”

That was it. This was Elain’s breaking point. “I. Hate. You.” She screamed, grabbing another plate and smashing it to the ground beside her. The sound of shattering porcelain only provided fuel for her anger. She sniffled pitifully.

“Hate is a strong word,” Arrogance glittered in Azriel’s eyes. 

An unwilling tear ran down her face. She smacked it away. 

“Okay. Fine-” Azriel cocked an eyebrow, daring her to say more. 

Elain cut him off. “If you hate me, I’m getting rid of it.” She was being childish, but she didn’t care. She wanted him to hurt, wanted to see him hurt. He could suffer for all he was worth. 

Azriel recoiled instantaneously, as if physically burned. All expressions of malice drained from his face. “Elain─wait. You wouldn’t do that─” 

It was Elain’s turn to smile. 

“Elain, please. That was a mistake─”

She tapped her chin and pretended to think. Her foot tapped against the ground. “Funny. That phrase sounds familiar, doesn’t it?”

Azriel’s calm composure shattered.“Elain─this isn’t funny.” She smirked. 

“Let’s see. Where have we heard this before?” She folded her arms, smiling visciously. 

He looked up at her, searching her eyes. “Elain, please. Please, don’t-”  In a split-second decision, he crossed the room and dropped to his knees in front of her. 

Now that, was unexpected. 

She pretended not to hear him, continuing on with her charade.

She began to pace. “Oh!” Elain stopped to look at him patronizingly. “ Let’s take a trip down memory lane, shall we? You know what else wasn’t funny? When you mocked me when I was crying at your feet, begging for forgiveness.” Through the haze of her anger, she glanced at Azriel. Hurt was written all over his face. . Good. She wanted him to hurt. She wanted him to bleed. Bleed, just like she had.

“Hmm. You know what else also wasn’t funny? When you mocked Lucien and I.” Suddenly emboldened, Elain acted out the way Azriel had crudely mocked their coupling months earlier.

Azriel blanched. Still, he obediently stayed kneeling in front of her.

 A tear slipped down his cheek, and he wiped it away haphazardly. “Elain, I didn’t mean it─”

“Oh, how the tables have turned.” She laughed cruelly, as if enjoying a private joke. “You, you’re-” She paused to laugh again. 

Across the table, Azriel visibly wilted. 

She pointed at him, then at herself.  “You, begging me?” She gasped in mock astonishment, clutching at her throat. “I have to admit, the sight of you begging on your knees for forgiveness, crying, is quite entertaining. I could get used to this,” she laughed.

“Please, Elain─”  

She smirked unkindly. “Please, what?”

“Stop.” Azriel’s face crumpled. . She almost wanted to tell him sorry, that everything would be okay. Almost.

Elain clicked her tongue patronizingly. “Manners,” she chastised.

“Please, stop.”

She cupped her ear and leaned forward, a silent gesture for Azriel to repeat himself.

“Please, Elain. Stop.” He bowed his head. A final act of submission. 

What a sight to see. 

One of, if not the greatest Illyrian warriors kneeling in front of her, begging. She reveled in the glory, tasting the sweet nectar that was revenge. 

“And abandon the opportunity of a lifetime? Please.” Elain scoffed.

Azriel looked back up at her. His  expression was tortured. Her masochistic streak grinned in delight.

Silence reigned while Elain basked in the glory in her newfound power.

After a minute or two, Azriel boldly broke the silence . “We haven’t come to a decision yet.”

“Hmmm?” Elain hummed seemingly distracted, pretending not to pay attention. 

“...the baby.”

“Oh, I already decided for the both of us.” She shot him a sickly sweet smile. His head shot up. “I’m getting rid of it.” Azriel’s shoulders visibly slumped, his eyes coming to rest on the legs of the chair opposite him. She placed her finger under his chin, tippinging up his face to look at her.  Opening her eyes comically wide, she whispered  “Poof,” the way she would with a toddler, snapping her fingers for effect.

“Say it again,” Azriel gritted out. Restrained anger flashed in his eyes. 

“Excuse me?”

“Do you. Want it.”

Elain raised her eyebrows in silent questioning.

“The baby.” he gritted out with clenched teeth, still kneeling. He looked up at her with fury blazing in his eyes.

“Not if it’s with you.” She waved him with a dismissive hand and watched as Azriel visibly flinched. Deep rooted, pain flashed across his features. She smiled in satisfaction as she watched her words hit their mark. 

“Not with me?” He choked out. He scrambled to get up, but she put a hand on his shoulder and pushed him down with such force he almost toppled.

To answer his question, Elain gestured to the house around them, and the shards of porcelain on the floor. “Look at this, us, we are toxic. Let alone we can’t raise a baby in this kind of environment.” Arms folded, Elain patiently waited for his response.

“Elain, I-I can change. We can figure something out, I-I’m sure of it.” Azriel hastily slipped out of his kneeling position and back into his chair, perhaps to facilitate some sort of civility, or to send her a message that they were equals. They were, in fact, not. They both knew that.  “Az, I loved you,” Azriel looked like he had been slapped in the face, “I was willing to go to the ends of the world for you. But somewhere, something irreparable changed, and everything fell to pieces. What we had, however special it was, is gone now and there’s no way to fix it. As seen in exhibit A.” She gestured wildly to the shattered glass on the floor and laughed a broken, hollow laugh. 

“Please, this baby deserves good, loving, parents and a safe home and we could provide both─”

She cut him off. “No. You’re wrong. We can provide neither. So I think we’re done here.”

“Goodbye, Azriel.” Her last words to him. 

The winged Illyrian sat in stunned silence, unmoving. 

She took this as an opportunity to leave.

Heels clacking, she watched in her peripheral vision as Azriel scrambled out of his chair, nearly falling out in his race to reach her. Hand outstretched, he called to her in a last-ditch effort.“Elain-” 

 Upon hearing that, she ignored him. He was nothing to her. With that, Elain strode out of the house, head held high. She never once looked back.

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

Taglist: @everybodyplaysalong @nessian4life @sjm-things @bookstantrash

[solarwriting]

Gone for a Moment

Paring: Romantic!Peter Parker x Female!Reader, Tony Stark/Pepper Potts x Daughter!Reader

Word Count: +4.9k

Warnings: death, time travel, swearing

Request: N/A

A/N:  I started writing this forever (4 months) ago and a few days ago I tried to finish it and twice my additions failed to save, third time’s the charm. I also don’t like the first half of this.

“Where are you going again?” Y/n asked her phone, which was lying on the counter beside her as she tried to figure out a blueprint of her dad’s.

Peter, on the other end, answered into the mic of his earbuds, “MoMA.”

Y/n was quiet as she tried to decipher her father chicken scratch.

“Y/N,” Peter called through the phone, “Hello?”

“Sorry,” Y/n sighed, “I’m looking at some of my dad’s old blueprints, for his suits. I think I could modify it. You know to make it comfy.”

Peter laughed into his mic, “You just want you own suit, huh?”

Y/n snorted, “Well it’s not like my dad is going to build me one. I have to take matters into my own hands. And I already have a prototype.”

Peter laughed again, “It’s going to look great, also Ned says ‘Hi.’”

“Ah tell him I say ‘hi’ back!” Y/n exclaimed, “And MJ too, if she’s there. Tell that girl I miss her.”

“They heard you.” Peter said, he was interrupted by Y/n phone beeping. Her mother was calling her.

“I got to go, Peter. My mom’s calling.” Y/n explained, the two ending the conversation with quick ‘love you’s.

“Mom?” Y/n asked after answering the call.

Pepper sighed in relief, “Are you home.”

“Yeah, why?” Y/n asked as she walked the length of the kitchen, eyebrows furrowed in thought.

“Okay, I’ll be right there don’t go anywhere!”

“Mom, wait! What’s going on?” Y/n attempted to ask before the phone call was cut short.

“Oh, shit.” Y/n whispered to herself as she shakily made her way to the living room, turning the TV to channel six, since they always seemed to have answers.

“Is New York being invaded? This just i-” The sound of the reporter’s voice was interrupted by the ding of the elevator reaching the floor. The doors opened to reveal Pepper Potts searching the room frantically for her daughter.

When her eyes finally landed on the sixteen year old her face visibly softened and her body relaxed ever so slightly. “Mom, you have got to talk to me here, what the hell is going on?”

Pepper looked at her daughter pointedly, “First of all, language, I really don’t need you swearing like your father. Second of all, aliens because it’s always aliens. I need to get a hold of your dad just, stay here.” She instructed before leaving the room.

Y/n pulled out her phone with before typing a message with shaky hands.

“Please tell me you’re not on that ship.” Y/n heard her mother plead from the kitchen.

“Mom, is it Dad?” Y/n asked as she walked into the kitchen, Pepper nodded solemnly hand the phone to her daughter.

“Dad?” On Tony’s end, even though the static he could hear her fear, “Are you on the ship?”

“Yeah, honey.” He sighed into the phone.

“Dad, please,” Y/n whimpered, “Come back, we need you. I need you, I love you. Dad.”

“I- lo-e y-, too.” A static sentence came out of the phone followed by dead silence.

The phone slipped out of Y/n’s now sweaty hands, clattering to the ground as the teen quickly followed. Pepper was quick to move, catching her daughter and moving her so she sat in her lap, her head lying on her mother’s chest as she rocked her daughter, “He’ll be back. He’ll be back.” Being repeated like a ritual.

Neither of them were sure how long had passed but they eventually got off of the floor and spent their time watching the news and worrying. At some point, Y/n fell asleep because the next the she woke up feeling off.

“Mom?” She asked looking around the living room as she stood up. Her stomach dropped, “Mom! Something’s wrong.”

Pepper rushed into the room, just finishing a phone call, trying to figure out where Tony was, “Honey, what’s wrong.”

Y/n’s eyes filled with tears, “I don’t feel okay, I-I-I-” Y/n stumbled forward into her mother’s arms, “I love you.” Y/n could knew what was happening, “P-please make sure you live. Make sure you and Dad don’t stop enjoying life because of me, okay?” She asked, her lip trembling and tears rushing down her cheeks.

“I promise, baby. I promise.” Pepper’s face mirrored her daughter’s just as Y/n began disintegrating in her arms.  

Weeks had passed, no word. Almost a month had passed, no word. But Tony Stark was alive and not doing very well. He had just finished his recording, saying goodbye to his fiance and daughter when he was a bright light, moving closer to the ship. The light was so bright he was forced to open his eyes, He was unsure of what he was seeing but it was a woman, a glowing woman. And she carried the entire ship back to Earth.

The next thing Tony knew he was stumbling out of the ship, being supported by the blue meanie when Steve Rodgers ran up to aid him. “Couldn’t stop him.”

“Neither could I.”

“Lost the kid.”

“Tony, we lost.

They looked solemn, “Is, uh.” Tony couldn’t find the words but he didn’t need to because soon Pepper Potts rushed towards him and pulls him into a hug.

“Oh my God! Oh my God!”

“Is Y/n? Is she...?” Tony asked trailing after they pulled away from the embrace. Everyone around them was quiet as Pepper slowly shook her head

“She didn’t-”

“No. I did not float through space for a month to come home without a daughter. Take me inside, I need to get her back.”

“Before we do any thing, Tony. We have to help, you. You aren’t well.”

Time passes, Tony was unsure of how long it had been but he woke up lying a bed with a worried Pepper sitting next to him. “Tony,” He looked at her. “S-she told me.” Pepper cleared her throat, trying to hold back tears, “She told me to tell you that she loved us and wanted us, you to live, have a life. She didn’t e=want you to obsess about getting her back, she want you to live.”

No matter the efforts made to hold back the two were both quietly crying together. Pepper sighed, pulling herself together slightly. “I found her, uh, her phone. Look at the last message she sent, to Peter.”

Outgoing: Peter, I’m not sure what’s going on but it seems bad and I hope you’re safe and I really want you to know that I love you, so much Delivered; 23 days ago

“She really loved that kid.”

“Yeah.”

                                           FIVE YEARS LATER

The Starks respected their daughter’s dying wish by living. Life slipped through her fingers and she didn’t want that to happen to her parents. Pepper and Tony settled down, got married (and officially becoming the Starks) They had a kid, even; another daughter, Morgan Stark.

All was well and they were pretty lucky, considering but Natasha Romanoff, Steve Rodgers, and Scott Lang, Ant-Man. Ant-Man and his batshit plan of time travel to get the stones back so they can snap everyone back.

“Tony... We have to take a stand.” Natasha sighed, becoming fed up with the walls Tony was putting up.

“We did stand. And yet, here we are.”

“I know you got a lot on the line. You got a wife, a daughter. But I lost someone very important to me. A lot of people did. And now, now we have a chance to bring her back. Bring everyone back. And you're telling me that won't even...” Scott tried,

“That's right, Scott, I won't even. I got a kid and I’d like to respect the wishes of the one I lost by not dwelling.”

Morgan suddenly bursts out of the door and runs to her father, who picked her up immediately, “Mommy told me to come and save you.”

“Good job, I’m saved.”

That night, just as Tony was finishing up the dishes and continuing his dwelling when he found an old photo frame tucked behind some coffee cups on a shelf above the sink. In the frame was a photo of him and Peter with Peter’s Stark Internship certificate. Tucked into the frame was a small, aged photo of Peter and Y/n. Peter was looking sheepish as Y/n was happily pressing a kiss to his reddened cheek.

Tony smiled at the photo, they sure were cute. He realized, quite suddenly what he needed to do and why. He placed the frame with the smaller photo tucked into corner on the windowsill, for a better view and began his work.

He wouldn’t have been bothered if it hadn’t worked but when his computer told him the model rendered successfully he was in shock and he stumbled backwards, falling into a chair. “Shit!”

“Shit?”

“Done with your Juice Pop? Yeah, I think you are.” Tony said taking the popsicle stick from Morgan and wiping her face. “Time to sleep.”

“Wait, tell me a story, about Y/n.”

Tony sighed, thinking of a story to tell, “Well, this one time she convinced me and a bunch of other people to pretend to forget your mommy’s birthday one year all so we could surprise her with a big party. She was so mad, she came into the room ready to yell at all of us for not remembering but she instead got this huge party.”

Morgan giggled, “That’s funny.”

“Yes, very funny, now go to sleep. Love you lots.” Tony said standing up and walking to the door.

“I love you 3,000.” Morgan said.

“Wow, 3,000. That’s crazy. Go to bed or I’ll sell all of your toys.”

“I love you 3,000, too, big sister.”

                                                       -

Time travel, that was their plan. They were going to use Pym particles and travel through time, something Scott tried to explain. The only thing left to do was locate the stone, when they were and where to retrieve them.

Soon everyone found themselves in the past. Tony, Scott, Bruce and Steve in 2012 , New York to retrieve three of the stones, the Mind, Time and Space Stones. Bruce left to fine Dr. Stephen Strange to get the Time Stone. The remaining three moved, setting their plan into motion, Tony hid with a shrunken Scott on his shoulder. Steve was in position, waiting for his cue.

Tony had just finished insulting 2012 Steve’s ass and Scott quickly came to his defense, “I think you look great, Cap. As far as I'm concerned, that's America's ass.” Scott saluted.

The past Avengers were handing over the weapons to a Hydra team disguised at the time as SHIELD. Scott was confused at how the at how the past Avengers could have been tricked by these obviously bad guys.

Just as 2012 Thor covered 2012 Loki’s mouth to shut him up, Tony saw the Tesseract, “All right, you’re up, little buddy. There’s our stone.”

Scott crouched ready to fly, “Alright, flick me.” Tony flicked him, causing Scott to soar across the room where he landed on 2012 Tony.

Everyone was in position, Tony informed Steve the scepter was on the elevator. Steve went on the elevator, tricking the men into believing he was a part of Hydra and taking the case that held the scepter and the Mind Stone. On his way out, Steve was found face to face with his past self, who was under the impression he was Loki trying to steal back the scepter.

As Steve fought his past self, Tony was on the ground floor waiting for the Avengers to make their exit with the Tesseract. Scott soon found himself inside of 2012 Tony’s Arc Reactor second guessing the idea of giving him mild cardiac dysrhythmia.

“Window’s closing. Pull my pin!” Tony exclaimed over the radio, a moment later 2012 Tony collapsed to the ground, dropping the case with the Tesseract in it. Scott jumps on the case pushing it past Loki and to Tony. Tony picked up the case walking towards the stairwell but was stopped short when a very angry Hulk burst through the door and pushed him down, causing the case to fall open and the Tesseract to land at Loki’s feet.

Loki grabbed the cube and disappeared and Thor used Mjolnir as a defibrillator on Tony, letting out a sigh of relief when he didn’t die. Tony sighed, “Oh. we blew it.”

The three men stood outside arguing about what they were going to do next. They continued to argue about how doomed they when Tony interrupted them, “I got.” Before he continued a young girl, no older than ten, ran up to the trio.

“Dad?” She asked looking at Tony with confusion, she looked at Steve, “Uncle Steve? What are you guys doing? And who’s that?” She pointed at a very confused Scott, who looked at her than at Steve and then at Tony.

“The better question is what are you doing out here, little miss?” The girl looked at her feet embarrassed.

“Well, I wanted to help people. Some got stuck trying to run away.” She explained. This was when everyone really noticed her appearance, she had dirt smudged on her face and clothes and she looked a little tired.

She looked at Tony for a moment before hugging him, he was shocked for a moment before he moved his arms around her. He closed his eyes solemnly, this had to work. Steve glanced at Tony with solemn eyes before glancing to the ground and closing his own eyes. Steve’s eyes soon shot open when he suddenly felt something wrap around him, it was Tony’s daughter, she was hugging him. He wrapped his arms around her as well.

“Bye Dad, bye Uncle Steve. Good job at not dying!” She exclaimed as she rushed away. Steve and Tony exchange a look before looking at a wildly confused Scott.

“Who was that?” He asked pointing in the direction the girl ran off.

Tony sighed, “Not important, now we’re going to get the Tesseract and you’re going back to out present, pissant.”

The pair were in 1970 and they were looking for where the Tesseract could be. Steve sighed, “Tony…”

“Don’t. Let’s just get what we need ang get out of here, okay? Now, imagine you're SHIELD, running a quasi-fascistic intelligence organization. Where do you hide it?”

Steve motioned to a building a few feet away, “In plain sight.”

 -

Y/n remembered being with her mother, becoming dust and then blackness. Now she was back, in the tower, or what was the tower. She looked around, sighing. She was about to leave when she saw a small sparkle of yellow. That yellow spark grew and soon formed a circle that lead to a battlefield, she almost didn’t jump through it but when she saw the unmistakable red of her father she jumped into the portal.

She pulled the suit prototype out of her pocket, she placed the piece on her chest and two on her wrists, the suit unraveled and became form fitting in an instant. The suit was gold and had a few red accents, it was similar to her father’s in many ways.

She flew toward the familiar red of her father. She found him next Peter, they just separated from a hug. Y/n flew down and grabbed her dad in a hug, he was taken aback but when he saw her familiar hair, he squeezed her tightly. Soon he pulled away, her pressed a kiss to her forehead, “I missed you, kid. But right now I got to go.”

Tony flew away to aide in fighting Thanos’ army. Y/n turned around and faced Peter, without missing a beat the two rushed together and connected their lips in a searing kiss. They weren’t sure how long it had been but they knew it felt like forever. They pulled apart, breathless and lips puffy. They rested their foreheads together, “I love you.”

“I love you, too. Now let’s go help.” Y/n said, capturing Peter’s lips one more before flying away to help where she could.

It was a blur, she wasn’t sure how much time had passed but one minute she was helping a talking racoon take down a couple of Thanos’ soldiers and the next she was kneeled in front of her dying father.

Her vision was blurred as she looked at his face, “Come on, you have to get up. Dad, please. I need you.” Y/n’s body shook with sobs, “Don’t go, please. Please.”

Tony groaned, “Y/n, I need you,” He coughed, “Take care of Morgan. Take care of your sister.” Y/n cried harder as she was pulled away by Steve, who held her as she cried. Pepper kneeled in front of Tony, reassuring him that his girls would be okay.

                                                      -

It turned out Morgan really liked having an older sister and was instantly attached to Y/n at the hip. It was the day of the funeral, Morgan sat on Y/n’s lap on the couch as they watched a hologram of their father, “So I thought I'd probably better record a little greeting... In the case of an untimely death on my part. I mean, not that, death at any time isn't untimely. This time travel thing that we're gonna try and pull off tomorrow, it's– it's got me scratching my head about the survivability of it all. That's the thing. Then again, that's the hero gig. Part of the journey is the end.” He gets up and walks towards Y/n and Morgan. “What am I even trippin' for? Everything's gonna work out exactly the way it's supposed to.” He leans down and smiles, looking at Morgan then up at Y/n, “I love you 3,000, both of you.” The hologram ends.

[visionsofus]

For your songfic, may I suggest Heart of Stone (Six)? Not all the lyrics are applicable, bc neither Wanda or Vision are Henry VIII (thank god lol), but the steadfast and enduring love and devotion that drives the song seems especially pertinent given that finale 😭. Or Simply the Best by Tina Turner? ❤️

hey anon! thank you so much for your requests ❤️

I’ve finished The Best by Tina Turner but I’m still working on the Heart of Stone prompt (please bear with me while I tear my heart out and put it back together because I wanna do the prompt justice) 

please enjoy!

wanda and vision’s mixtape | read this part on AO3 

synopsis: In which Wanda searches Edinburgh for Vision after she arrives late at their safehouse. When she discovers his energy signature floating around the city, she decides to follow the threads to their source. Along the journey she recalls the complications of their long-distance, secretive relationship but by the end recalls exactly why they sacrifice so much to be together.

Wanda was frantic as she hurried out of the airport. She’d been anticipating this trip for a month, her heart set on the two weeks Vision had managed to buy away from the compound. She’d planned out all the details to make sure she was on the right flight, that her fake passport was in order and that Nat was aware of her location if something went terribly wrong. Even her status as a fugitive was relatively under control thanks to some false information she’d planted over in Ohio last month. She’d left behind a trail of misleading clues that the Secretary of State and his team were lapping up eagerly, thinking they were getting closer to her capture for the first time in eighteen months.

Instead, here Wanda was halfway across the world having just landed at Edinburgh airport.

No matter how much she had planned things out, no matter the scope of her powers, nothing could have stopped the wave of snowfall that the UK had received in the last few days, coming to a head the previous night. She’d timed her flight to arrive, as they’d agreed, at 9pm at a predetermined destination in the city. To her dismay she’d found herself on a crowded red eye flight that had left 6 hours later when the runway had to be cleared of snow.

The worst part was that she’d had to sit there for those hours that dragged on for an eternity, knowing that at that very moment Vision would be waiting at the airbnb they’d rented out, alone. Wanda had no way to contact him, not with such short notice. Technology was too easy to track but it didn’t stop her longing to go and buy a cheap international sim from the technology stand at the airport and use it to just send one message. At this inclination Natasha’s voice had rung out in Wanda’s head, ‘the next time they catch you it’s as a war criminal, don’t give them a reason to decide you’re better off dead than locked up’.

  So it wasn’t worth the risk but it didn’t stop the sick feeling that grew in her stomach as she waited nervously to be let through passport control, then at the taxi stand and finally on the doorstep of the flat they had booked just off West Port.

It was early morning by the time she arrived, but the wintery sky was still hazy with the night’s darkness so she hoped that Vision might be waiting inside. The key box, which they’d been given a code to open from the host, was empty which further confirmed this conclusion. She rang the doorbell twice and waited. And waited and waited some more. There was no answer.

Wanda looked at the houses around her, streetlights reflecting their orange glows off of second story windowpanes. There were few lights on inside at this time of morning, but she still needed to be careful.

Leaving her only piece of luggage, a small carry-on bag that held the bare essentials of what she kept with her at all times these days, she looked up to the windows above her. Perhaps one of them would be open.

Wanda took a deep breath and let her power grow in her palms, red mist arcing out to push her from the ground. Her ascent was controlled and slow and she reached the windowsill with ease. It was just wide enough for her to grasp the waterpipe next to it and rest her feet on the sill. She froze when a light switched on next door and what sounded like a radio began to play, rather loudly considering the time of day. She used the music (it sounded like Tina Turner but she couldn’t be certain) to hide the distinct click that sounded from the window as she forced the lock open with her powers. Inside was quiet, all the lights were off, and Vision was not there.

“Vis?” Wanda called out nonetheless.

If he wasn’t here were could he be? Their general rule of thumb was that if one of them couldn’t make it to the predetermined location they had to wait 24 hours given it was safe to do so. It stood to reason that he’d follow the protocol this time, particularly given how long they were due to spend in Edinburgh and the months it had taken to concoct a believable excuse for why Vision wasn’t going to be in America.

Wanda returned to the window quickly and looked out over the limited view it gave of Edinburgh city and the castle rising up behind, providing a somewhat medieval backdrop. She raised her fingers to her forehead and took in her surroundings, focusing on the sound of early morning commuters from the main street, the sound of a ticking clock at her back, a car door closing down the road, and beyond it all she felt for Vision. Wanda hadn’t used the telepathic dimension of her powers in a while, or at least not as much as she had used to. They were a little rusty, making it hard to pinpoint precisely where Vision was but, when she opened her eyes something similar to an energy field could be seen gracing the cityscape before her. Certain structures stood out to her, outlined in a golden haze that couldn’t be anything but the mind stone calling to her.

Without hesitating Wanda vaulted out the window and hit the pavement below, her powers softening the landing. A flick of her hand sent her bag flying up through the open window.

Wanda grinned in anticipation and set off in the direction of the nearest golden glow, her boots hitting the cobbled streets one after the other. It had been freezing when she landed but as she ran through the slowly waking streets of Edinburgh Wanda removed her scarf and let it trail behind her.

The sun had not yet crested the horizon, but its light was turning the sky a nice lilac colour highlighted by the grey expanses of cloud hanging over the city. She briefly wondered whether it might snow today or if it was going to be too cold.

As Wanda rounded the corner onto the main street she nearly lost her footing on a stretch of dangerous black ice on the pavement only just catching herself on a nearby bus bench. She’d reached the first place Vision’s energy signature was calling her to, a small café down a wynd bordered on both sides by the back walls of town houses. The interior of the store was dark but a soft light glowed at the back where Wanda assumed the bakers had started their morning preparing the delicate pastries the café was known for.  

Wanda walked up to the window and looked at the ground where a strong outline of gold was hovering just above the icy cobble stones. Vision had been here recently, but he hadn’t gone inside, he’d just stood in the exact space she now hesitated at. They hadn’t had plans to meet here but it was a place they frequented any time they met up this side of the world.

Beyond the dark glass a few inches from her nose Wanda could see the cozy window seat that had become their spot. The café opened early and closed late at night so the pair had become frequent patrons what with Wanda sometimes kept up by recurring nightmares from her childhood and Vision who refused to let her be alone in those darkest hours.

Wanda’s fingertips brushed against the cold glass, leaving little prints in their wake at the tenderness of those memories, of her leaning against Vision, her hands clutching a warm cup while his arms encircled her waist. They’d sit there until the late hours when the store finally closed often talking about the other patrons in hushed tones. The students nursing late night coffees as they sat before computers, the lonely ones in new cities come to reclaim some control over the evening hours and, like them, the other insomniacs all drawn to the same place in this historic city. The conversation inevitably turned to their future and Wanda enjoyed thinking up ridiculous scenarios where they had a house in suburbia and didn’t have to run from anyone anymore. Things stayed lighthearted until they both grew too invested in the imaginary life they were discussing and returned back to wherever they were staying.

Wanda looked skywards again in the lightening morning and caught site of threads of gold leading her further down the street.

A mere block away was the only bookstore that stayed open 24 hours in the city. Some nights when the café had closed for the evening they had come here. The bell jangled, sharp in the serene silence of the store, as Wanda entered the maze-like stacks. Her fingers tingled in response to the energy signature that Vision had left here and she followed it to the back of the store which housed a few comfy armchairs and a long couch that they’d often set themselves up in for the night.

She could see it now as Vision’s energy shifted around her, as though it was responding to her presence. Could see him sitting across from her in her minds eye, a memory tucked away for safe keeping of when they’d last been in Edinburgh. He’d sat reading a book of poetry that he’d found amongst the stacks, his hands running gently across worn pages as he took in each word. She’d been perched at the other end of the couch, legs tucked beneath her and a sketch book resting on her knees as her pencil arced across the page creating the basis of his form, the curve of his shoulders, bend of his elbow, his legs crossed at the heal as he relaxed. Every now and then he’d glance up and she’d tilt the sketch away form his watchful eyes with a smile, or he’d take the moment to read out a particularly beautiful piece of poetry from the collection he was perusing.

Wanda had picked up drawing in the aftermath of the events in Sokovia and had been encouraged by Steve and Nat who had acted as her caretakers in those first few weeks after arriving in America. It had started as a simple activity to quiet her mind and draw what was happening within her, the first drawings hadn’t been good in skill or message, they’d started out dark. Vision didn’t know it, but she’d been drawing him for years, fascinated by trying to capture the feeling in his eyes or the gentle grace of his movement. Most of all this act of creation served to remind her that her hands could create beautiful things too, it didn’t all have to be death and destruction.

Wanda started as the energy rolled around her ankles before arcing back to the door. So, he wasn’t here either.

Out on the street gold threads guided her further up towards Edinburgh castle, the energy was growing stronger, and Wanda ran faster no longer just concerned about where Vision was but whether he was worried by her absence.

A small thread of energy darted off to the side and was so imperceptible that Wanda almost missed it. It was so weak that she knew there was no chance he’d be there but nonetheless she slowed down to a stop in front of a small newspaper stand that was being set up for the day. It was one of those metal domes that folded out to reveal the magazines and papers within. The elderly gentleman behind the counter gave her a warm smile as Wanda turned to the magazines, the cogs in her brain turning.

Of course he’d tried to stop here. Before they had brought Natasha into the picture, Wanda had communicated with Vision through the missed connections pages of local newspapers and gossip magazines. They’d leave each other a note, usually encoded so only they would understand it, detailing a time and place for their next meeting or what magazine they were going to put their next message in. In hindsight Wanda smiled at the memory but at the time she had been something of a mess. She’d come to rely on Vision for so much in the year they had spent living together, their first home. Being torn away from each other the way they were had been difficult, and the challenge of meeting each other in safe places for both of them had weighed down their evolving relationship. She wondered what might have happened if they’d been given the time they needed.

The owner of the stand was twirling the dial of a small radio moving from static to static until he found the radio station he wanted. To Wanda’s surprise, it was Tina Turner once more:

Each time you leave me I start losing control.

You’re walking away with my heart and my soul.

Wanda realised she was wasting time and hurriedly thanked the man before turning on her heel and starting down the street again. From here the incline grew but she hung onto the knowledge that when she eventually reached the thread’s end, Vision would be there waiting for her. Another lyric from Tina Turner’s song fluttered around her head as her chest burned from the running.

I can feel you even when I’m alone.

It was true that she always carried him with her when they were apart, but it was never the same as being with him in person. Nothing could beat that.

Wanda hadn’t realised but, whether from the intensity of the moment, or the cold, little tears had started to trickle down her face, blow away by the brisk wind.

The energy was growing stronger.

In your heart I see the star of every night and every day.

She ran faster, leaping up some steps two at a time and spinning around the corner.

In your eyes I get lost.

The gates to the public entrance to the castle tour were yet to open but Wanda wasn’t about to let a bit of steel stop her from getting to where Vision was. She did a quick 360 to make sure that she was alone before pushing off the ground with her feet and a jolt of power. She was up on the nearest rooftop and past the entrance in moments. Running around corners and up steps she felt like the threads were pulling her up towards him. She finally reached the top section of the castle – the battlements.

Just as long as I’m here in your arms

That was when she caught sight of him, the energy grew stronger until it was so bright, she might as well have been looking at the sun. For one horrifying moment as she waited for the light to clear she feared she had imagined it all. As fear seized her heart, she slowed down a bit, gasping a little at the exertion.

I could be in no better place

There he was, looking out over Edinburgh’s fading night lights in the early morning. He turned around in surprise, immediately glamouring his appearance before he caught sight of who was there.

“Wanda,” he whispered, the illusion dropping instantaneously as she stepped towards him.

“I’m sorry,” she said so quietly that she was worried he might not hear her, “my flight got cancelled.”

He reached her in a few large strides and wrapped his arms around her waist, squeezing her close to him. Wanda led out a shaky breath that was somewhere between a sigh of relief and a sob she’d been holding in since that morning. She buried her face in his shoulder relishing in having him here before her at last.

“I know, I know,” he whispered into her hair. “I figured you’d been held up with all the cancelled flights from Heathrow.”

They held each other for a few moments longer, swaying back and forth a little.

“How did you know where I was?” Vision asked pulling back a bit and brushing Wanda’s hair over her shoulder so he could cup her cheek, his eyes searching her face as though not quite believing that she was here, before him.

“I’d always find you,” Wanda said before laughing softly, “I can feel you even when I am alone.”

Vision tilted his head at the abrupt change in her tone, but Wanda couldn’t help it. It was impossible not to be happy as she stood there, atop Edinburgh castle in his arms halfway around the world from all of their problems.

“Well, I’m glad you found me.”

They stood there watching the sun rise, colouring the clouds in soft hues of lilac and lavender. Vision sighed in contentment, his chin resting on her shoulder from where he stood at her back, arms wrapped around her and holding him warmly to him. It wasn’t until sounds of the morning rush in the city below began to reach them that Wanda pulled away to look at him.

“I don’t suppose you’d mind if we spend the day in bed? I need to sleep off last night’s flight and recover a bit,”

“Of course not, my love,” he said raising her hand and kissing it. “You rest, I’ll pop out to get something for you for breakfast.”

Wanda sighed in happiness as they started to walk down the hill together. “I got lucky y’know.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I have my perfect synthezoid partner willing to go and get me breakfast in bed despite the fact that I basically stood him up.”

Vision chuckled, swinging their hands back and forth together. “Not quite what happened, but I suppose you could say I am simply the best,” he said nonchalantly waving a hand.

“You caught me! You should have told me you knew the song before I tried to use it as a romantic line,” Wanda mockingly scolded.

“I’ll always catch you,” Vision replied, pulling her closer as they emerged after the eventful night into the city welcoming them home together at last.  

[sodone-withlife]

i lost a friend (i lost my mind)

Criminal Minds Fic Part Three

| PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 |

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: character death, canon-typical violence, mental instability (I’m reluctant to name a specific disorder or condition)

Notes: cross-posted on Ao3, and this was my first whumpfic in this fandom so forgive me if it sucks. this is canon-compliant until after 12.01 The Crimson King

“What do I regret? I regret that we just took it as it was, that we didn’t look harder.”

Rossi thought about how he ended up in this situation, bulletproof vest on as he faced the one person he never expected to be at the other end of his gun, that he might have to take down.

He met the kid nearly twenty years ago on the Womb Raider case and immediately recognized raw potential when the kid told him about what he gathered from the dumpsite. They kept in contact even after Rossi went back to Quantico, and he spent the next year trying to get him to apply to become a profiler. The kid did eventually join them in Quantico, and he quickly proved to be a quick study with an incredible intuitive ability.

He ended up retiring a few months after the kid joined, but he kept in contact and they met for dinner a few times. While he wrote books, the kid became unit chief, all the while expanding the BAU to involve more than just a few profilers in a cramped cave that had been their office.  

When he rejoined the team, he watched as the kid—he’ll always be ‘the kid’ to him, no matter how good his glare got over the years—struggled to reconcile the failure of his marriage and his own feelings of being a failure as a father.

He watched as the kid obsessively hunted the Boston Reaper, turned to self-blame when seven people were found shot dead in a bus, as the kid realized the killer was in front of them the whole time, as he reacted to the news of Foyet’s escape.

He worried as the kid didn’t turn up when called, as they found him in the hospital after getting stabbed nine times, as his family were put into protective custody, as he walked into a confrontation unarmed and managed to save a child the day he returned from medical leave.

He watched as the kid obsessed and worked himself to the bone over the Reaper, as he stepped down and put Morgan in charge, as the team raced to find Foyet before he could get to the kid’s family.

He watched as he found the kid savagely hitting a dead body, as he found him later clinging onto the body of the woman he had loved, as the kid turned into a shell of himself while trying to be a good father for his son.

He watched as the kid tried to remain the unwavering pillar of strength for the team, as he was sent to the other side of the world away from his family for half a year, as he came back from Pakistan looking much too thin for a man his size and faced a wall of anger and betrayal.

He watched as the kid slowly found love again, as he tried to help Reid get through what he himself went through just over two years ago, as he tried to help his estranged brother get out of a mess of drugs and spikings.

He watched as the kid collapsed on the conference room floor and had to be rushed to the hospital, as George Foyet managed to kill him twice as he flatlined in the ambulance and in the operating room.

He watched as the kid tried to help solve Gideon’s murder, as he ended things with his new love.

He watched as the kid ended up on the other end of a serial killer’s obsession, as he hallucinated the whole team getting killed in front of him, as he nearly shot and killed Reid as he came in through the door.

He watched as the kid struggled to hide his terrors, as he tried to eliminate the threat against two of his teammates, as he tried to stop Morgan from doing what he had done six years ago in a frenzy that only resulted in the love of his life getting killed, as he was arrested at gunpoint in front of his son.

He watched as the kid tried not to let seeing the victim with his name carved into her forehead get to him, as he tried not to go out of his mind in worry about his son while he was stuck in a snowstorm, as he tried to keep everything inside in the months that followed, as he went through his daily life without really living.

Now, a memory of a conversation he had with Gideon rose to the forefront of his mind. Rossi hadn’t questioned it then, but now he wondered if Gideon saw this outcome, all those years ago.

He wondered if Gideon saw this when the kid came in all those years ago, absolutely smitten with his wife and yet hiding darkness deep inside him, when the kid easily slipped in and out of the minds of the worst humanity has to offer.

A year ago, just a day after Hotch was admitted into the hospital after being subjected to whatever torture Peter Lewis managed came up with, Prentiss had returned to the BAU. Hotch was going to be on leave for quite some time, given the nature of the drugs he had inhaled and what had happened when the team rescued him.

He remembered confessing his worries to her, that Hotch wouldn’t make it through to the other side with this one, that Hotch’s too-brilliant mind (brilliant not in the way that Reid was, but in the way that a prosecutor turned SWAT turned profiler’s brain was) would figure out a way to end it all, even though he was on suicide watch.

He remembered one early morning, a few weeks after Hotch had been discharged, when Prentiss was suddenly called into a meeting with the Director. He remembered seeing her sprinting back into the office, abandoning all professionalism as she stormed into the office next to his.

He remembered freezing at the doorway. It was bare of any signs of the previous owner: the heavy law books, the pictures, the awards, the small mementos from the team—they were all gone.

He missed the others’ reactions as they read the last words the—now former—unit chief left for them as he left the office and drove to Hotch’s apartment, only to find it completely bare with an envelope left on the door with Rossi’s name on it.

He remembered the days that followed, as Garcia and Reid desperately tried to search for the man who had completely dropped off the face of the earth, as Prentiss tried to fill Hotch’s shoes for the team.

He remembered JJ asking him about Jack and the pure, unfettered sadness that he let show on his face.

He remembered the horror saw in the others when he quietly told them that the ten-year-old had collapsed at school six months ago, soon after the DOJ fiasco, while Hotch was stuck in a blizzard in the middle of a case in Colorado, that Hotch didn’t make it to the hospital in time to see Jack awake one more time.

That Jack’s heart gave out on him while he was breaking every speed limit while driving Hotch to the hospital.

That Hotch was too late, just like he was too late with Haley seven years ago.

That Hotch spent the last six months hiding his grief and desolation, throwing himself entirely into work and doing the bare minimum in regards to his health.

That after a man, the husband of a murdered victim and father of a child who died of cancer just a few days later, committed suicide, he had forced Hotch to live at his place for two weeks so he could make sure the still-grieving father would wake up every day, alive and breathing.

He remembered hating that the straw that broke the camel’s back was of the Mr. Scratch nature.

He remembered wondering, not for the first time, how damaged affected Hotch’s psyche was.

Today, nine months to the day Hotch resigned from the bureau, he got his answer: incredibly damaged.

Rossi thought back to the profile they had given the Boston PD.

~~~

“The man we’re looking for is in his mid 30s to mid 40s and exhibits traits of both an organized and disorganized killer,” Rossi started, looking out into the Boston PD bullpen. “It is also highly likely that he fathered a son who is around 4-5 years old. He has recently suffered a personal tragedy, likely one that involved losing his son and wife in a way he feels responsible for.”

“The crime scenes itself demonstrate a high level of intelligence and control, but that control is shattered when it comes to the men,” JJ added. “We tracked their last movements, and it seems that these men all frequented BDSM clubs.” Everyone in the room got the unsaid message: the men were cheating on the wives.

“He may be using the men’s infidelity as justification for his actions,” she finished the thought.

“When we talked to the children, they said they remembered the unsub being very angry at the fathers,” Luke picked up from where Tara left off. “This, in addition to the level of overkill he exhibited and the smashed mirrors at every house, may be a manifestation of the unsub’s own self-hatred and of his desire to make others feel his pain and guilt.”

“The children also said that the unsub was incredibly nice to them and the wife and that he apologized before he knocked the kids out,” Reid interjected from where he was sitting at the side of the room. “This man has a fractured psyche: he’s able to exhibit care and consideration one moment, shoot a person in three vital regions the next, and then destroy a face post-mortem in a fit of angry self loathing. This will show in his day to day life.”

“We’d like for your officers to canvas bars and clubs in the area,” Prentiss instructed, “ and ask the workers if they know anyone who may fit the profile: again, male, 30s to 40s, may have recently suffered a tragedy, and may be acting erratically—asked for time off, mood swings, anything out of the ordinary.”

~~~

They had gotten it completely right, but, looking at the man playing with the child in front of him, Rossi still felt like they had completely missed the mark.

“Let the kid go,” Rossi ordered quietly.

“Dave, why are you calling him that?” came the quiet baritone, the dearly-missed voice inciting within Rossi a strange rush of familiarity and fear. “You know his name.”

It can’t be the kid’s actual name that he wants, look at the body language, it’s so protective. So what—Rossi briefly closed his eyes as a flash of grief overtook him.

“Hotch, please,” he finally said, placing his gun away and slowly moving around the man so that he could see the child. “Let Jack go, he doesn’t need to see this.”

That got a reaction out of the man, who looked up and shocked Rossi with the sheer depth of broken protectiveness that was in his expression. “He needs me,” Hotch insisted, his next words sending a bolt of shock through Rossi’s system. “He just lost his mother.”

Rossi kneeled down cautiously, mind racing. “Hotch, do you know what day it is?”

Hotch sent him a confused look. “It was Haley’s funeral yesterday,” he answered, breath hitching at the end as he looked away. His eyes locked onto the ballistics vest Rossi was wearing, noticing it for the first time. “Why are you wearing a ballistics vest? Is everything alright?”

Rossi’s eyes began to burn as he realized what was going on. “Hold on, I’m going to go get something, and then I’ll explain everything, alright?” he said, standing up and feeling relief at the responding nod. He quickly walked back into the living room where the others were waiting, only stopping to tell them to stay there before grabbing the case file they had brought with them.

“Come here,” he beckoned Hotch over, placing the file on the desk in front of the window in the sparsely decorated bedroom.

Hotch left the child on the ground and walked over, still confused. “A case?” he asked absently as he flipped through the reports with a focus that hadn’t been since eighteen months ago, when he was still with the bureau, before that fateful day.

Unseen, Rossi went to the child and quickly ushered him out of the bedroom, making sure that he got to one of the others before going back inside, making it back to Hotch before he looked up from the file.

“What do you make of it?” Rossi indicated the folder, tone even as he successfully hid the turmoil within. He watched with a pang as Hotch easily slipped back into old habits, verbalizing his observations and yet remaining utterly oblivious to the significance they hold to him.

Hotch paused, looking around. “Where’s Jack?” he asked Rossi, panic seeping into his voice when he realized the child was gone. He backed away from Rossi, who had stepped carefully towards him, hands up placatingly. “Dave, what’s going on? Where’s Jack?”

The situation was all too painfully familiar.

“Hotch, you know that isn’t Jack,” Rossi said carefully. “His name is Charlie Summers. Yesterday wasn’t Haley’s funeral. It’s November 2020, and you’re in Boston, not in Virginia.”

“What are you talking about?” Hotch looked at him as if he were crazy.

Rossi pressed forward. “Do you remember what happened eighteen months ago, when you were taken by Peter Lewis?” he asked as Hotch froze in his place. “He had you for a day. He had taken you to your childhood home in Manassas, do you remember that? He drugged and tortured you. We found you just in time, but you almost killed yourself.”

He watched as blood leached out of the man’s face, as he started rapidly shaking his head. “You were discharged from the hospital a week later,” Rossi pushed, hating every second that passed while he tried to pull Hotch out of the delusion. “And while you were still on medical leave, you sent in your resignation and asked that Emily Prentiss, who had come back while you were in the hospital—”

“Take my place as unit chief,” Hotch finished in a whisper, staring at the floor and shaking like a leaf. Rossi rushed forward, flashing back to the day Hotch got that devastating phone call as he caught the man and lowered him to the ground—holding and comforting him, despite the circumstances, just as he had done back in that hotel room.

A few minutes passed, filled with harsh breathing as reality set in.

“Why?” Rossi finally asked the once stoic and unmovable unit chief, now reduced to just another unsub—only he wasn’t just another unsub. He was the man who held the elite profiling team together as they went through hell and back, the man who had reignited Rossi’s dormant paternal instincts.

He wondered if it had been a good idea to ask that question when Hotch remained silent, placing his head between his knees and still shaking as reality continued to seep back in.

“His voice,” Hotch finally muttered, “He wouldn’t stop. Taunting, laughing, talking, talking about how people are ungrateful and should be taught to be thankful for what they have that the children don’t deserve—” he broke off with a whimper covering his ears with his hands.

“Hotch?” He didn’t answer, even as Rossi forcefully brought his head back up. His eyes were squeezed shut and he had bit deep into his lip, drawing blood. “Aaron,” Rossi tried, raising his voice only to get knocked onto his back when the aforementioned man reflexively shoved him away, causing him to hit the bed then fall to the ground.

Hearing the crash, the team fell back onto instincts and rushed into the bedroom with their guns out and ready, only to see Rossi staring helplessly at the once-proud man curling into himself in the corner and letting out painful, guttural cries as the last pieces of his mind finally shattered under the weight of the demons he spent his entire life fighting.

[b000mbayah]

Without

Warnings: I wrote this last year when I was dumb so ignore how putrid it is :)

Word count: 2k

Snow gliding through the sky as it piles up on the concrete streets. The sky is cloudy as a mist fogs up our surroundings. Streets of Seoul full of people looking for gifts for relatives. The festive holiday is coming up and people are able to spend the day with loved ones. I used to be one of those people.

I lost my true love a month ago. It was a stupid argument over the most irrelevant thing imaginable, I was just so fuming at the time that I had no idea what I had gotten myself into. It was a trap, either way I was screwed. If I had continued the argument it would have worsened and if I had stopped earlier she still would have left me.

I could see in her eyes that she was broken due to the amount of times I've done this to her. I broke her again... I've broken her for the last time, and now she's gone.

If I had said sorry she would have left, if I begged she would have left, if I had just stopped myself from shouting in the first place. She's scared of me now, her eyes so full of fear as she trembled on the spot. I'll never forget the way she looked at me every time.

The following mornings were full of me proving to her that I loved her whether she wanted it or not. I would have done anything to make her forgive my foolish actions, couldn't do that last month though. It all seems pointless, love. I mean there are positive and negative outlooks on love.

Love can fill you with pure joy and excitement to the point that you forget the numbness that you'll feel after it's over with.

It leaves you broken as if you're a ship with treasure that crashes onto land, losing all its precious moments and times as everything inside spills out, never to be found again.

There are more negatives to love than positives and I swear that I'll never forget her, she was the one I loved most and I let go of her hand, I let her slip and now she's gone.

watching her on stage made me cry every time, hearing the news JYP sent out made me depressed... hearing that she had to have a break from her schedules made me feel guilty.

I look around my room as I retreat away from the window, empty takeaway boxes and cans all around my room. My eyes droop down to my phone on the floor.

Cautiously, I crouch down and pick the electronic up off of the ground. I bite my lip as all my notifications pop up. Multiple miss calls and text messages from all my contacts.

I tap on my messages to see hundreds upon hundreds of messages from my contacts, all of my contacts had text me, all but one. The one that had deleted my number, I refuse to delete hers though, it contains too many memories for me to simply release into a void.

I gulp as I click onto Jihyo's contacts as our last conversation over the phone comes up. All of this was just before the final argument. I was questioning where she was and when she'd get home. She was only practicing with her other members in their dance studio, I let my jealousy get the best of me, again..

I throw the phone at the wall as I got dressed and headed out, I can't say in my apartment forever. I forced myself out the door for the building and into the chilly winter breeze. I inhaled and exhaled the fresh air before taking steps towards the supermarket.

Layers of trampled snow surround the street. As I pass shops I take a simple look inside.

"Y/N!" I turn on my heel to be greeted with my best friend running up to me, a member of twice. I let out a broken smile as sana springs up to me with a massive grin and arms open.

Within seconds she gives me a bone crushing hug. ''y/n, please tell me you're okay?" sana rushes in a speed faster than chaeyoungs rapping skills.

"yeah, I'm just.... Upset about the situation" I frown as she gives me a look of sadness. She nods her head and opens her mouth, "I'm upset as well, I really liked you two together" sana smiles at her words as I gulp, she really liked us together?

"I've been trying to contact you for weeks and weeks but nothing, please may I take you to dinner? You look like you haven't been eating the correct amount of food, I need to stuff you up I time for Christmas" sana says with a worried tone

"s-sure" I stutter out as she grabs my hand and takes me through crowds of people that surround the streets and up to a fancy restaurant where richer people would dine. "w-we cat eat here, it's to expensive, I don't want to cost you that much money"

"no y/n, it's okay, it's nothing really only a few hundred. My clothes are worth more than this'' sana giggles out as she gets us a table with a view of a frozen pond. It took us what? Twenty minutes to get here for a view I'd a pond with what's most likely to be frozen fish inside. I'm not complaining but like those poor fish...

"Take your time, when you're ready to order please ring this bell" a waiter explains as she hands us the menus. We thank her before she walks away.

"what do you fancy getting?" sama asks as I scan the menu's dishes. "urm, the... Mmmm"

"steak?" sana asks me as u nod and go along with the choice. Sana hums as she also decides on what she's getting. I ring the bell as the waiter from before comes back with a pen and notepad.

"what can I get for you ladies?" they ask as sana gives him the order. He bows and leaves us. I turn my head to sana who's wearing a permanent smile right now.

"please come round to our dorm, the girls miss you" I tilt my head before nodding.

"sure but I may have to avoid jihyo" sana frowns at my words but nods her head.

Soon after the meal I ended up at the dorm. Still have no idea how I'm going to deal with this but I'm just going to have to hope for the best I guess. Sana pushes the door open silently, we take our shoes off before continuing on. As we creeped up on tzuyu, even though there was no point, I managed to make eye contact with momo who was eating the packet of cookies I had sent her months ago. She must be really far behind in her food gifts if she's only eating them now.

I place a finger to my own lips as she nods and watches with curiosity filling her eyes.

As we were practically behind Tzuyu we both leap at the same time, causing tzuyu to let out a yelp as we all tumble to the floor. I let out a giggle as tzuyu groans due to the impact. "Get off of me you pathe- y/n?" tzuyu changes the subject half way through as notices me. I smile and give her a small wave. "what are you doing here?" she questions looking at me like she's trying to read me.

oh so I'm a book now????

"I invited her-" I cut sana off, "she dragged me here, oh it was awful, she demanded it and she explained how she would burn down my house and throw me in a ditch if I didn't come" I dramatically say as sana huffs out a gush of air.

"alright then... If you say so but please get off of me, you're both killing me" tzuyu states as we stand back up, dusting ourselfs off.

We enter the living room to see everyone here, including Jihyo...

"Y/N!" everyone in the room exclaims but Sana, Tzuyu and Jihyo. I somehow become covered with six different females as they squeeze me like a teddy bear. Once they all release me, I give them a wide smile and bow as they copy my action.

"y/n, how have you been? We've been busy with-" and I couldn't hear anything dahyun was saying, I am way more focused on Jihyo. Her expression is unreadable as she gulps from time to time. her eyes dart around to find an excuse to leave but nothing comes to her mind.

As soon as she looks up we lock eye contact. I forgot how much I loved those eyes, her eyes show dedication, passion, strength, love... All the things I wish I had. I probably sound whipped for her and the truth is, I am. I would do anything for us to get back together but that wont happen.

"right y/n?" I break eye contact as I respond with a simple nod since my throat is sore from all the crying and screaming I've been doing. I really have been beating myself up over this break up.

"I said that her hair looked like a donkey on steroi-" and blank out again as I make eye contact once again with Jihyo. Only this time we break it for a few seconds before reuniting our eyes.

Without me or Jihyo noticing, Tzuyu manages to take the other members away to give us alone time. Once we realise they're gone an awkward situation is placed between us...

"how have you been?" she begins as she examines the pictures hung on the walls. "pretty bad, you?" I respond as she gulps down on air. "same, what's your reason?"

I freeze, thinking on if should I tell her the truth or not? There's nothing wrong with the truth. "if I'm honest... I've been beating myself up about the breakup, I'm deeply sorry for how I treated you Jihyo. That month I had spent alone had given me time to reflect on my behaviour and what I have done" Jihyo looks at me with an interested look but there's also something else there. "continue..."

"the way I treated you during that relationship was completely irresponsible, I had spent that entire month locked up in my apartment crying about what I had done, I was so frustrated with myself that I couldn't bring myself to forget about it and I'm sorry if I'm invading your personal space by being here but I really hope that one day you can forgive me" my voice goes shaky towards the end as tears form in the corner of my eyes. Jihyo looks me up and down, about to say something when the door opens up.

I watch as a male walks up to Jihyo, I could only see the back of his head as he's asking her questions before turning around to face me. RM? "she doesn't want to see you, please leave her alone she has me now."

My eyes widen in shock but I bow and apologise once again before rushing out crying again. I rush past the other members who share a look of concern before chase after me calling my name. I ignore them though and continue to rush my way out of that place, not wanting to be there anymore due to the once sweet but  now awful memories I have there.

[rikumorimachisgirl]

So, I started writing this Mystic Messenger fic last year but lost the inspiration to continue. I finally finished it today, so I hope you like it.

Oh, and I commissioned this lovely artwork from @hydeine last year, too. I said I'd tag her when I finally post the fic. I suppose today's the day. Here we go...

Title: Strawberry Pancakes

Pairing: Jumin Han x OC (Iris)

Genre: Fluff

Word count: 2,665

Author's notes: Some of the scenes were faithful to the game.

Disclaimer: I do not own Mystic Messenger, but I own the idea of this fanfic.

It started with pancakes. Those thick, buttery, melt-in-your-mouth fluffy stove-top cakes that both of them - apparently - were both fond of. 

The first time they talked about it got him into a spot of trouble. Over an utterly dull lunch date with his father and his latest conquest, amidst the rich ambiance of the Michelin star restaurant where only the who's who in society were spotted, Jumin Han chose to indulge in a little tête-à-tête of his own at the RFA chat room with her. 

Her. Iris  - RFA's accidental member, unofficial party organizer, everyone’s cheerleader, and about the only other person who resonates with him. Jumin quietly as he waited for her to respond to his last message. Over the last twenty minutes, they have gone from talking about Elizabeth the 3rd’s grooming habits to his favorite breakfast food.  

| ‘I like chocolate chip pancakes.’  He felt his lips stretch sideways as he read her message. It was strange, he thought, how he's been joining the chat room more often since she joined. In the two weeks that they've been chatting, he felt closer to her than he's ever been with anyone in his life. 

| ‘I figured you would.’ He typed and sent.

|’Huh?’

|’You seem like the type who'd indulge in something with high sugar content early in the morning.’

|’That was a lucky guess, Jumin.’

|’But I don't believe in luck.’

|’Oh, and I suppose you think you've got me all figured out already? If you're so smart, tell me what I’m thinking at the moment.’ He smirked at her cheeky response. 

| ‘Iris, I'd like to remind you that I’m a businessman, not a fortune teller. If you’d like me to infer based on our conversation though, I'd say you're thinking that I like buttermilk pancakes, to which the answer is no. I prefer strawberry pancakes.’

Silence. 

| ‘Am I really that predictable?’ Her message finally came in two minutes later. He chuckled. In his mind, he imagined she probably would’ve pouted as she replied. 

“You seem rather amused, son. Did something happen?”

The sound of his father's voice snapped him out of his daydream. The young executive silently cursed himself for carelessly dropping his guard. Clearing his throat, Jumin straightened up and ran a hand through his dark locks. 

“My apologies, father. I had urgent business to take care of.” He tucked his phone in his pocket while wishing that Iris would understand why he hadn't gotten back to her. 

“Judging by your smile, I take it that business is going well?”

It took all of his willpower not to roll his eyes at his father's new girlfriend. Glam Choi was it? And what was it that she did? Judging by how she managed to turn heads, he deduced she must be some kind of celebrity. Nothing special, he thought; after all, his father, the Chairman of the Board of C & R International, seemed to have dated them all - socialites, celebrities, models, beauty queens - some of whom were even a year or two his junior. 

“Jumin? Are you all right, son?”

He silently cursed himself once more. While he was silently judging his father’s new girlfriend, he had once again dropped his guard and gave the older man the opportunity to call him out. 

“My apologies.”

“That's twice you've apologized. My, what an interesting day it is indeed, ” the stately older man said curtly. “Is our company not to your liking, son? Please just bear with us for a few minutes more. After all, your assistant told me that you won't have an appointment in the next hour or so.”

Jumin took a deep breath and sighed. If he had only known his old man’s agenda was to introduce his new girlfriend, he would’ve begged off right away. God knows he’d much rather be eating pancakes with her now than having a full-course meal in this place. He shook the thought away for a moment. Now wasn't the time to dream of her. Fixing his grey eyes at his father and the young celebrity he decided to date, he feigned a smile. “Very well, father, you have my full attention until then.” 

OoOoO

The second time they talked about pancakes was more of an afterthought. It happened right after their first kiss. 

Their first kiss. The very thought of it still made his heart race. He remembered every little detail as if it were yesterday. He had Assistant Kang to thank for arranging everything for him. Thanks to his efficient employee’s quick thinking, he was able to meet Iris a week earlier than the rest of the RFA members, although if he had a chance to do it over, he wouldn't be as flustered as he was when he first laid eyes on her the night before.

He watched in awe as she stepped into the foyer. She was everything he’d imagined - slender and graceful, her brown hair cascaded down her back, and her dark brown eyes looked back at him with the same level of wonder. 

“Jumin, i-it's so nice to finally meet you.”

He swore he’d never felt his heart beat faster than it did at that exact moment. ‘Get a grip, ’ he scolded himself, as he schooled his emotions before it got the better of him. He must not lose his footing, after all, he was Jumin Han - businessman, philanthropist, future CEO.

“You’re beautiful.” The words slipped from his mouth quite naturally, and he immediately regretted it when he saw her cheeks turn several shades redder. 

“I’m sorry, ” he cleared his throat. “What I meant to say was that I hope you traveled safely. If I had known Assistant Kang was going to ask you over, I would’ve sent out my driver to pick you up.” 

And then she smiled, and he knew right away that he was going to do whatever it takes to keep her. 

“Who is this woman and what is she doing in your house?”

Jumin gazed at the shameless woman his father had been forcing him to marry and resisted the urge to throw her out of his penthouse himself. 

“Sarah, please don't be like that. I'm Jumin's friend -”

“And what kind of friend comes a man's house alone? By the looks of it, you probably stayed the night, too!”

If Iris was the least bit upset at the insults hurled at her, she did not let it show. Unfortunately, he was far from being gracious. 

“This is dragging on far longer than I expected. I'm actually quite surprised I hadn't thrown you out the door the minute you showed me that fake cat picture. My security will show you out.”

“What? No, you can't do that. I'm your fiancée,” Sarah cried out incredulously. 

“Oh, please,” he said haughtily. “If you think that we'd  gotten engaged just by exchanging a few words, you're clearly delusional.”

“So, you're choosing her over me?”

“I don't know why you're even asking,” the dashing Chief Director of C & R International said, as he turned his attention to the willowy brunette who stood quietly in the corner. Something about the way she looked at him urged him to come closer to her. With each step he took, the answer became clearer. He stopped in front of her and smiled. She was a good head shorter than him, and she looked adorable gazing up at him with those big brown eyes. 

“It wasn't like I had another choice to start with,” Jumin finally said, his eyes never leaving hers. “Iris,” he whispered, as he lifted her chin and closed the gap between them. He could've sworn he felt a shock wave run through his body the minute his lips touched hers. Suddenly, the sound of Sarah's protests faded, and all he could hear was the sound of his heartbeat - or was it hers? He really couldn't tell - but every single one of his senses zeroed-in on the beautiful woman in his arms.

Her lips were the softest he’d ever kissed - not that he’s had lots of experience - as a rule, he only kissed women because he needed to close deals with them and the kisses they shared were always cold. This, however, was different. As his mouth moved over hers, again and again, all he could think about were two things - how her kisses taste like strawberry pancakes, and that he could never get enough of her. 

OoOoO

The third time they talked about pancakes was a memory guaranteed to make her blush almost immediately. He remembered vividly - Provence in July, a month after they'd gotten married. He promised to take her on an unforgettable honeymoon anywhere she wished. He thought she'd choose to go to Paris, Santorini, Milan, or even Ibiza, and he’d be happy to take her there; but instead, she chose to go to his newly-purchased winery so he could still oversee their daily operations while spending time with her and Elizabeth the 3rd. 

That's so like her. 

He woke up alone in bed one Sunday morning. Frustration marred his beautiful face as he ran his hand over her now-empty side of the bed, and found it still warm. She couldn't have been gone for long, he thought. And Elizabeth the 3rd, who usually enjoyed sleeping late, was not in the room as well. Still half-asleep, he forced one eye open to glance at the clock on her nightstand. 

‘Six-thirty, ’ he groaned silently, as he rolled on to his back. What exactly could his wife be up to this early? Sighing, he rolled out of bed and left the room in search of the beautiful woman who disappeared from his side before he even got to kiss her good morning. 

The house was quiet except for some movement coming from the kitchen. Raising an eyebrow, he quietly made his way to the large French country-style kitchen his wife loved so much and found himself entranced at the sight of the lovely brunette he now called wife, stirring something in the mixing bowl while their pet sat on the counter, looking curiously at her. 

"I hope I get this right, Elizabeth the third, " she told the cat softly. "Jumin's pancakes always taste good, so I hope he'll like these."

Her innocent declaration made him gasp. She was making pancakes for him. And that realization made him pick up his feet and head over to where she was at. 

"I see you both are up early."

"Jumin -, " she cried out in surprise, as she felt his arms wrap around her waist from behind. "Good morning, my love. I didn't expect you to be up so early."

"I could say the same about you, especially after we made love several times last night, " he responded, as he planted soft kisses on the side of her neck. Her cheeks turned red at the thought of their passionate night together, and he smiled, knowing how embarrassed she was. "You're blushing."

"I can't help it…, " she murmured. "And I think you've disappointed Elizabeth the third." 

He watched their pristine white cat jump off the counter and saunter out of the kitchen. "I think she's just giving us some privacy. Don't worry, she'll be fine, " the dashing young businessman said as he stopped kissing her, but kept her in an embrace. "So, tell me what you're up to." 

"I was going to make strawberry pancakes for you, " she started, her face still flushed. "But I'm not sure they're as good as the ones you make."

"Is that so?" He unwrapped his arms and moved closer to the counter where the mixing bowl was. "I suppose there's just one way to find out." 

She watched in silence as he dipped his long and slender finger into the bowl and scooped up a tad bit of better. Carefully, he brought his finger near her lips, while watching her gently. "Say ahhh…, " he said and laughed at how dutifully his wife complied. "Well?"

"It's sweet…"

Cocking his head to one side, he smiled at her wryly. "Is that so?"

"Why don't you taste for yourself?" 

His eyes twinkled with excitement, as she failed to realize how enticing her offer was. Cupping her face with his hands, he leaned forward and whispered, "I suppose I will, " before he ravished her mouth - and all of her body - over and over just like the night before. 

The pancake batter was left untouched until later that day. And as she had placed ointment on the scratches she had left on his back, he feasted on the strawberry pancakes she had made just for him. 

OoOoO

The fourth time they talked about pancakes was on Valentine's Day - the first of many they'll be spending together. He thought of many ways they could be celebrating this together and spent a lot of sleepless nights thinking of the perfect present for her. Never once did he think they'd be spending the day spooning her in bed, with one hand caressing her swollen belly. 

Thirty-eight weeks. She had been carrying their first child for nearly nine months, and despite her growing belly and her slight weight gain, she continued to look even more beautiful. 

"I really want pancakes, Jumin."

His hand stopped moving, and he raised an eyebrow at her upon hearing her request. "Darling, I asked you what you wanted for Valentine's…"

She snuggled closer to him as she felt his low voice vibrating on his chest. The gentle sound of his voice always soothed her and the baby, and she wanted to hear more of it today. "And I told you I want pancakes."

He frowned, feeling a little upset at her answer. In truth, she could have anything she wanted - jewelry, cars, all the designer items a woman could get her hands on - but all she wanted to for Valentine's was his home-cooked pancakes. "That's all you want?"

"That's all I want, " she hummed. A few seconds later, she felt the baby kick and the sensation made her giggle. "See? Even the baby wants pancakes."

"But the doctor said you should lay off sweets…" He should have known better than to speak those words because no sooner had he said them, she immediately turned to him with sad puppy eyes. He sighed. He knew at this point that he had lost to her once again - after all, he could never resist her - but he wanted to make her victory a little harder. "As I was saying, the doctor said…"

"But Jumin, I haven't had anything sweet since we found out I was pregnant, " she said, pouting. "And I'm really craving the strawberry pancakes you make."

"Will that make you happy?"

"Very much so."

Sighing again, he untangled himself from her and rolled out of bed. "All right. I suppose I can alter the recipe a little bit. You just lay there and rest, okay? I'll be back with your pancakes."

Elizabeth the third jumped from her bed and walked beside Jumin as he stepped out of the room. "How long do you think before she rolls out of bed and follows us?" He asked, glancing sideways at their precious feline as she mewled her response. "Ten minutes? That's too generous. She's been too fussy lately, but something tells me you're spot on, so we need to move fast."

And true to form, a very pregnant Mrs. Han waddled out of their room ten minutes later, enticed by the mouthwatering scent wafting from the kitchen. 

"Those smell heavenly, " she said excitedly, as she made her way beside her husband and stood on tiptoes to give him a kiss. "Thank you, Jumin, " she whispered before she waddled towards the cozy little breakfast nook she had designed for them. 

He smiled, as he watched her walk away from him. She had no idea how happy she's made him, how lucky he was that she came into his life, and how thankful he was for all the many things that brought them closer together. Especially strawberry pancakes.  

The end.