#i should get little heart-shaped shields. make it even more obvious

[rusannadoll]

hmmm. coming to terms with the fact my nip piercings are exceedingly visible when i run in the cold in just a sports bra

[eddiemunsonbrainrot]

The Importance of the Tiger Pride poster on the season 5 bts video

I’m slightly insane so I spent 2 hours this afternoon analysing the entire video, and this tiger pride photo caught my eye as a little detail no one has mentioned. This may be a bit of a reach BUT the stranger things crew repeatedly show how important even tiny parts of the set are to this character.

The tiger pride poster is obviously in support of the Hawkins tigers, and what is drawn on there is a paw print. But I don’t know if it’s just me but I think that’s an odd way of drawing a paw print. The pad isn’t the right shape (on the poster it more looks like a heart) and the toes are too thin. Here is the poster, then what a tiger paw print should look like. I know they’re a bunch of high schoolers who have made this poster, but this feels like deliberate foreshadowing.

Keep the heart shape in mind.

Additionally, the paw print is coloured in red, which seems an odd choice. The tiger colours are orange and green, literally shown behind the poster, so it would make sense if it was either of those colours. So if we flip it upside, it actually looks like a red bleeding heart.

And you know where we have seen a very important red heart before - on Mike’s shield on Will’s painting

There are many reasons this heart could be included.

I think including this little detail ultimately ties together the importance of the painting to everything Mike does this season, and how it is essential in everything he does, if it is showing up in insignificant places like a poster at school.

However, since the heart is bleeding it could also suggest that Mike gets hurt, or alternatively, his shield gets damaged. We know that he has been building up an emotional shield/guard for the past two seasons, so this could go show that this season this is broken down and he is finally truthful to himself. He stops trying to push Will away, and push his feelings for him aside. Furthermore, to have a bleeding heart means to be a softhearted person, which reinforces the idea of Mike opening up this season.

It could also suggest that since Mike is protecting the whole party with his shield that he fails to save everyone and feels like it is his fault. I think the obvious candidate here is Will, since he is undeniably the person Mike cares most about in the party. I think this links well to the theory that since each season starts with Mike being late to something, he will be too late in saving someone (or so he thinks)

Just some fun little thoughts, let me know what you think.

TL,DR: Mike will be EMOTIONAL this season

[hornime]

home workout | bokuto koutarou x gn!reader

“i’d let you do- do anything. anything you wan’ to me. i’m yours. all- all,” his voice raised a few octaves as the inside of your thighs brushed past his cockhead, “yours. all yours.”

warnings: 18+, sub!bokuto, jealous!reader (i mean who wouldn’t be when bokuto, your goddamn boyfriend, is perceived by other people the fuck), also lowkey possessive!reader, lotsa licking and sucking, nipple play, some praise (from reader) and some begging, brief mention of dacryphilia, kinda soft at the end

w/c: 1.5k sheesh

a/n: bokuto brainrot has me in literal tears. him being completely clueless to people flirting w him cus he doesn’t recognize romance from anyone but you has me so soft. i luv this man w my whole heart !!!!! ALSO THANKS FOR ALL THE LOVE ON THE BAKUGO FIC I JUST ABOUT SHIT MY PANTS WOOWWOWO

you weren’t an idiot. you knew that your boyfriend was attractive in literally every aspect of the word. he was sweet, patient, and kind, and what he lacked in academic smarts was made up tenfold in his emotional maturity and ability to read people. big and beefy, bokuto was all yours and all you wanted to stay trapped within his arms forever. unfortunately, to maintain the figure you adored so much and stay in shape for the volleyball season, he had to leave the four walls of your shared bedroom far more than you liked, having a daily obligation to spend a few hours at the gym.

once again, you weren’t an idiot. the few times that your work schedule and his training schedule aligned, you’d been able to work out together. and despite your knowledge of just how good-looking bokuto was and the fact that other people could perceive him (much to your chagrin) you were shocked at just how much people shamelessly flirted with him. 

cute girls with matching leggings and sports bras practically clung to his biceps, gushing about how strong he was and how he could probably pick them up with just one hand. their incessant giggling, mesmerizing hair twirling, and teasing touches pissed you off to no end, and you’d tug your boyfriend away before their breasts got too close to him for your liking.

something else you noticed was that, no matter how blatantly obvious the girls seemed to be, the guys were somehow worse, flirting through terms you couldn’t even understand. they compared deadlift weights, bicep curls, hip thrusts; you gritted your teeth thinking about whether they’d ever compared cock sizes in the locker room—you wouldn’t put it past those thirsty gym rats. sneaky bastards.

and bokuto, of course, was oblivious to it all. how could you blame him—he was so used to being adored! you knew that, to him, all of their praises paled in comparison to yours, but you couldn’t help but feel jealous. he was all yours—should be all yours—and you hated sharing him with the world.

you woke up saturday morning with a ringing in your ears, hand smacking the nightstand trying to turn off that god-awful alarm noise, bleary eyes barely able to focus on the text notification from your boyfriend.

[5:33 AM] kou: gm babe!!!! i didnt wanna wake u up cus u looked so peaceful! im heading to the gym rn. text me when ur up! love uu

[5:34 AM] kou: should be home around 9!! gym bud wants to show me something so i might be a little late for breakfast.

just to reiterate, you weren’t an idiot. for all the annoying flirting you noticed when you were with bokuto, there was no doubt in your mind that there must be a lot more when he was at the gym alone, which, unluckily for you, was most of the time since he was a freakin’ pro athlete and all.

you couldn’t prevent the pool of envy from swirling in your gut. gym bud? are you serious? who could that be? the girl with the arm tat or the dude with the dreads? no, maybe its that yoga instructor with the ass—

you shook your head, clearing your brain. you’d be here for hours if you went through everyone at that stupid gym that had ever shown interest in bokuto. the clock read 9:53 AM and the green flame in your body only burned brighter. just as you were about to call him and ask where he was, the front door slammed open.

“babe! i’m home!”

you silently put your phone down, teeth still clenching in jealousy. for some reason, hearing his voice only exacerbated the tension in your shoulders. you needed him. now.

“babe?” his voice creeped closer as he tread through the hallway towards the room. “you up?”

you peeked your head out of the doorframe, cheery voice masking your devilish intentions, “kou!"

his eyes brightened as he made eye contact with you and flashed his trademark smile. “hey! what’s u-” he took in the mischievous glint in your eyes “-p?”

you grabbed his burly forearm, yanking him behind you and walking towards him, forcing him to stumble and fall back on the bed. “wait! i’m all gross and sweaty,” he said, “gym showers were broke-”

“i don’t care. take off your shirt.”

“wow, someone’s eager. missed me that much?”

“watch it,” you glared. “i’m not in the mood, kou.”

he gulped at the dominance radiating from your voice, scrambling to take off the t-shirt that stretched between his pecs perfectly. with the fabric off and throw haphazardly to the side, he looked to you expectantly, the epitome of innocence.

your eyes wandered over his sculpted chest, the remnants of a soft sheen of sweat from his workout making it shine in the sunlight pouring through the blinds. your heart stuttered in your chest—he looked like an angel. coupled with the way with his bottom lip was tucked under his front teeth and the wide, anticipating look in his eyes, fuck. you almost smiled how blessed you felt in that moment, to see him in such a raw, alluring position, before a jarring thought caused your lips to twitch back into a frown.

everyone else can see him, too.

your eyes hardened. maybe they can see him all big and strong, you thought, but they’ll never get to see him like this: submissive.

and so fucking sensitive.

within an instant, your lips were latched on the soft spot above his collarbone, causing him to whimper in pleasure. you continued to travel along his throat, slowly working your way to the other side of his neck and crossing back to nibble at his adam’s apple.

you unexpectedly pulled away, drawing a short whine from him, before repositioning yourself so that you were straddling his outstretched legs. slowly, starting from the hem of his shorts, you dragged your tongue between the ridges of his abs, moving up towards his pecs, tasting the saltiness of his sweat and feeling the muscles tense underneath.

“fuck,” he groaned. as your lips puckered around one of his peaked nipples, he uncontrollably jerked his hips up, inadvertently rubbing his sensitive cock between your legs. overwhelmed by the sensation, he moaned. “fuck.”

“you taste good,” you muttered, grazing your teeth over his other nipple. “just wanna taste you all the time. you’d let me, right?”

thoughts muddled by just how good everything felt, he nodded mindlessly. “i’d let you do- do anything. anything you wan’ to me. i’m yours. all- all,” his voice raised a few octaves as the inside of your thighs brushed past his cockhead, “yours. all yours.”

you paused. raising your head from his chest, you made eye contact with him, so intense he almost closed his eyes to shield himself from the blaze burning in your dilated pupils. “why’d you stop,” he begged, “i want more. feels so good and i wan’ mor-”

“say it again,” you demanded. “tell me that you’re mine.”

his eyes, glossed over and prickled with tears precariously close to falling, squeezed tightly as he spoke, unable to control the growing volume of his voice. “’m all yours. always. all yo- yours.” he gasped as you resumed your movements, pinching the sensitive skin around his v-line while fervently leaving sloppy kisses on his chest. 

“good boy.”

he keened at your praise. another light touch to his cock combined with the passage of your mouth had him trembling, and his breath hitched as he cried out in warning, tears now flowing freely over his flushed cheeks. “m’ gonna cum, ‘m gonna, gonna cum.”

“yeah?” you whispered, lips brushing against his strained abs. “go ahead then.”

“fuck!” he whined, blabbering as you sat back and watched in awe of the beauty before you, a big strong man like him reduced to nothing more than a moaning mess. “fuck, fuck—you always make me feel so, s-so go-od, fuck i love you.”

with soaked shorts and an exhausted sigh, he dropped his head back onto the plush comforter of the bed. you flattened your palms on his quivering body, reeling from the aftershocks of his orgasm. he panted, running his fingers through your hair before nudging your face to look at him, staring at you with an expression of pure bliss and adoration. he studied you for a bit before declaring with a soft smile, “you’re the best. so fuckin’ happy that i’m yours.”

driven by affection, he sat up and reached his arms around your waist, snuggling his chin over your shoulder and mashing your chests, yours clothed and his naked, together. “kou wait!” you shrieked. “you’re all sweaty again! it’s gross!”

he chuckled. as if you hadn’t been spoiling him by licking it up just a few minutes ago. “you’re right. i‘m probably sweating more now than i was after my workout.”

at that, your ears perked up. “well maybe you should do home workouts more often then,” you teased.

“you’re right,” he repeated with a grin, “maybe i should.” if it meant more mornings like these, he’d forego the gym in a heartbeat. 

that night, he canceled his gym membership. after all, he reasoned, it’s offseason anyway.

© property of hornime 2021. do not plagiarize any of my writing and do not repost/copy my writing onto any other sites.

[mischiefmanaged71]

Turning Tables (5/8) - Joaquin Torres x Reader

Summary: After Y/N is injured on a mission, Joaquin is called over and she’s got a confession to make. Surprisingly, so does he.

Author’s Note: This series will continue based on how the last episode goes :)

Warnings: fluff, slowburn!, action & canon-level violence!

Pairing: Joaquin Torres x fem! reader

Word Count: 2.5K

You groaned in discomfort as you adjusted yourself on the bed. With your left leg resting upon a pillow, you reclined and stared up at the ceiling anxiously. The smell of antiseptic and rubbing alcohol fills your nose, surrounding you. Chills run along your arms as you feel the cold seep through the impossibly thin hospital gown.

After the whole fiasco in Munich, Sam called you to meet him and Bucky in Riga. To say you were surprised to see Zemo with them was an understatement. You were initially hesitant to work with him but later he proved useful with getting information. It was Walker who really irked you. He kept getting in the way and each time you could slowly see his mind grow worse. 

It was on that last day that he’d finally gone off the deep end. Zemo had destroyed all of the vials of Negel’s super serum that Karli had. At least you all thought he had, not before a collision between the Dora Milaje and Walker allowed Zemo to escape unnoticed. 

You’d never seen such pure rage and intensity in a person before. None of you had realised John took the serum until it was too late. 

He went on a rampage after Karli killed Lemar, using the shield to quite literally decapitate a man in the Town Square in front of an entire crowd and their phones.

It was in the aftermath that led you, Bucky and Sam to the warehouse where Walker retreated to in his dazed state. 

Your eyes close and suddenly your back in the warehouse, re-living the previous day. 

***

“Walker…”

“You guys should see a medic, you don’t look so good.”, John noted, striding past to leave the building.

Sam confronts him, “Stop, Walker.”

John backtracks, “What? You saw what happened. You know what I had to do. I killed him because I had to! He killed Lemar!”

You all watched John wearily as he continued to shout. 

“He didn’t kill Lemar, John.”, you exclaimed.

John scoffs, shaking his head as he paced.

“Don’t go down that road. Believe me, it doesn't end well.”

“I’m not like you.”, John spits out with gritted teeth to Bucky.

Sam tried to talk him down, 

“Listen, it was the heat of the battle. Okay? If you explain what happened, they may consider your record. We don’t want anyone else to get hurt.”

You glimpse at the blood coating the paint of the shield, a scarlet red splattered across the side as it dripped down.  He used Steve’s shield to murder someone. A shield that Steve used to defend and protect, drenched with the blood of an innocent.

“John…you gotta give me the shield, man”, Sam paused wearily, unsure of John’s next move.

Suddenly, John looked up at Sam, an epiphany clear in his eyes, 

“Oh, so that's what this is. You almost got me.”

Sam shook his head in denial, “You made a mistake.”

John looked between your trio, “You don’t want to do this.”

“Yeah, we do.”, Bucky answered with conviction.

It all began when Bucky lunged for John and you jumped for the shield to wrench it out of his grasp. Each of you attacked from a different side. You remember ducking to avoid his swipe for your neck, aiming a fist at his side and sending him sprawling. All of you were drained after the repeat conflicts with super soldiers.

You remember when Bucky ended up a far distance away, incapacitated due to his arm and an electrical surge. Sam’s wings were ripped from the sockets, leaving his flight out of the equation. 

You had jumped on Walker’s back, securing your arms around his neck to get him off of Sam. Wrenching his body to the right, you were sent sprawling and rolled forwards to stand over John and grab for the shield. He jabbed it upwards to smack your head but you released, dropping on your back to somersault a few feet away.  

“Just give me the shield, Walker and we can all walk away.”

He grunted angrily and striked the shield on the ground to help him stand up as he marched toward you. You tilted your head and smacked your fist against your palm, igniting flames in your hand. Flames collide with vibranium and from there, it was a tussle of fire, punches and the occasional spray of blood. 

A stabbing pain in your side flared as you threw another punch. Even the burning fire in your eyes began to fade as your energy depleted. Walker used that to his advantage as he swung the shield into your head which knocked you a couple feet back. Disoriented but determined, you widen your stance and launch a stream of fire at the shield. Fire bellows around the shield you once fought alongside, moulding against the shape. 

He crept closer and closer until he swiped around and rammed into you, slamming you to the floor. His fists collided with your face repeatedly as beads of blood burst from the open wounds. After your lack of movement, he rises from his crouch and walks away to deal with Sam, finally. Your hands shake at your sides, your face numb, head spinning. With the last breath of consciousness you have, you form a lasso, gripping his arm. The shield-bearing arm is wrenched backwards, gaining his attention.  Pushing yourself up, you kneel and lean against a crate to stand. 

Anger and spite pierced his sight as he stalked over and wrenched you back by your hair to knock you to the ground. This time however, he doesn’t aim for your face. You hear the crack before you feel it in your leg. His boot collides with your leg, a piercing scream wrenched from your throat as he shattered the bones in your lower leg. You arched your back in agony as he removed his boot and the pressure was released. 

Bucky and Sam are startled by an ear-piercing scream from the opposite side of the warehouse. They’re both up and back into the rush, not without struggle, to aid you. 

Blood rushes from the rest of your body to your injury, working to heal the wound. Pain pulsed through your entire body, throttling your brain as you tried to grasp for oxygen. You gasp for breath through the incredulous pain but black dots spot your vision, encasing you in darkness.

***

Your return to reality is brought upon by the knock at the door. You hum and tilt your head as you can’t see through the blinds covering the windows. Sam enters through the door dressed in his civilian clothes. He sports a couple scratches on his face and some bruising, but nonetheless, looks unharmed for the most part.

“Hey, how you feelin’, Y/N/N? You took a hard hit yesterday.”

You let out a deep exhale as you stare at the cast covering your leg, the IV tubing dragging along as you straightened out your blanket. Your mind was a bit hazy given the amount of pain relief you were on.

“It's rough, I’m not gonna lie.”, you chuckled.

Sam grinned knowingly, 

“If I know you, that cast isn’t gonna stop you from doing anything. Please be careful though, I need you in one piece.”

You shake your head,

“Sam, you don’t need me.”

“Nah, why are you suddenly so humble?”

A sliver of shame seeps into those wounds carved from previous years. Tears prick your eyes, causing you to shut them tightly and lean back on your pillow.

“I don’t know what happened out there.”

“Y/N/N, don’t beat yourself up. You held your own and I couldn’t have done this without you.”.

Your eyes creep open slowly and you’re finally able to see the big picture. You’ve always trusted Sam and his judgement. Whenever in doubt, you went to him for advice and he always seemed to have the answers. If the big circular bag leaning against the wall had to say anything, it was certainly a good omen of your efforts together. 

“It's that big heart of yours, Y/N/N. You always pull through for everyone.”

A smile creeps on your face and you finally feel yourself relax into the soft mattress of the bed.

“Thanks, Sam.”

Sam’s phone beeps and he pulls it from his pocket, checking the message. A smirk threatens to creep on his face but he suppresses it,

“There’s something I also need to tell you.”

You nod and urge him to continue.

He walks to the door and pulls it open,

“I’ve got a present for you.”

You look into the doorway and an eye-crinkly grin splays on your features. Joaquin Torres himself walks through the doorway, clad in his Lieutenant’s air force uniform. 

“You’re here!”, you exclaim excitedly.

He’s here.

“Y/N/N, how are you? Are you feeling okay? I rushed straight over as soon as I could.”, Joaquin rambles, scanning over you in concern. Cuts scatter across your face and jaw along with a black-eye under your right eye.

“I’m okay aside from the obvious broken limb. Don’t think I’ll be walking any time soon, that’s for sure.”, you both chuckled.

He nods thanks at Sam and skirts around the bed to take his seat beside your bed. 

“I’ll let you kids chat, but I’ll be back later.”

You mouth a thank you to Sam as he smiles and nods to you before shutting the door behind him.

Your attention is brought back to Joaquin as he sits forward in the chair, anxiously fiddling with his fingers. You stop him, grabbing for his left hand and squeezing it.

“Hey, what’s up? You seem more anxious than I’m feeling.”

Joaquin’s throat tightens and he strains to get out a sentence.

“I didn’t know how bad it was gonna be when I got here. Sam just told me you were in the hospital after the fight with Walker and-and I was really scared.”, he admits, tears glistening his sight. 

You remain silent, gripping his hand to acknowledge you are still listening.

“I know you’ve been on more missions than you can count. Maybe I shouldn’t be this worried but...what happens when I walk through that door and you’re not okay?”

He shakes his head, clenching his jaw tightly,

“I-I don’t know what…what I’d do.”

“Don’t worry about what if’s...”, you tilt his chin up to look at you. 

“I’m here. I’m a little banged up, yeah, but it’s been worse.”, you embarrassingly admit with a soft smile.

“I don’t think I could handle worse.”, he lets out a breathy laugh.

“Then you, Lieutenant, would not have liked me a couple years back.”, you teased.

Joaquin’s eyebrows perked up, 

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah, I was always getting into trouble on missions. I remember this one time, I dived in front of a knife for Steve and got stabbed.”

His face returned to a blank expression as he pursed his lips.

“Yeah it hurt a lot, but you know what, it’s those missions that made me stronger. My final flaw will probably be stepping in even when people don’t want me to.”, you shake his hand again to greet his eyes. 

“But I’ll always be there, Joaquin when you need me. Even when I’m not physically there, I’m with you. Every step of the way.”

“Then I guess I’ll have to be there to jump in front of you.”

Your eyes shoot up in confusion.

“If you’re going to be throwing yourself in the line of danger, you bet I’m gonna be there. Every. Single. Time.”

“Well, I guess I’ve already welcomed you to my world.”, you smirked, pushing yourself up to lean on your hands. 

You lean closer to Joaquin as he sits on the edge of the bed, meeting you so you’re both at eye level. 

“I-”

“Can-”

You both let out breathy laughs, lowering your gaze before glancing back up. 

“You go first.”, you nod in encouragement.

“No, no, it’s fine.”, he shakes his head.

You perk your eyebrows teasingly and urge him to continue with a smack on his arm. 

“Y/N...I, Uh, care about you. A lot, actually. And I, uh, wanted to tell you before but things got in the way and-”, he pauses as he gazes softly at your endearing gaze. You listened to him with intrigue and interest, sending a warm feeling into his chest.

“I love you.”, he’s flickering across your features and body language to gauge your reaction, shock filling him the moment the words leave his lips. 

You’re suddenly tugging him forward by the waist and resting your head on his chest. His arms remain still in shock but encircle you as soon as he relaxes. You sigh and melt into his embrace, allowing him to just hold you. It’s been a long, long time since someone held you like this.

Gazing upward at him, you encircle your arms around his neck,

“I love you, Joaquin.”

“Pinch me so I know this is real.”, he whispered, his face hovering close to yours. 

“How about I do something better?”

You hovering lips meet Joaquin’s and meld together in a passionate moment. His hands grip your waist gently as you tug him closer to deepen the kiss. It's a sweet, sweet moment that you’ve both been waiting for. You don’t believe in soulmates but with Joaquin, you certainly had something akin to that feeling since you first met. You pull away, gasping for breath as Joaquin hovers closely to your face, also breathing deeply. You grin and peck his lips once, twice before he’s capturing your lips once more passionately. 

“For the record, I’ve been waiting for you to do that for a long time, Flyboy.”

Joaquin laughs, shaking his head, “I’ve been wanting to do it for just as long,”

You can’t suppress the grin that splays across your face as you intertwine your hands and pull him to lay next to you in the bed. You dismiss his protests that he might hurt you, laying your head on his chest. Joaquin slides one arm around your waist and the other to grip your hand in his. You listen to the steady thrum of his heartbeat and count them.

“Stay with me?”

You feel the rumbles of his voice as he replies,

“Of course, mi amor.” 

***

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[soldmysoultootomeboys]

Hi! Can I request headcannons for the human brothers accidently summoning an angel mc instead of a demon and the angel mc insisting on sticking around and helping them?

The other brothers: :) Satan: >:)

This has been in the drafts for too long. I really love the absolute mood switch between Lucifers and Mammons. And just Satans in general ig.

Lucifer

After years of religious trauma at the hands of his father Lucifer finally thought he was free of any connection to the church. Summoning a flaming seraphim at 3 in the morning was not a pleasant way to find out that he was wrong.

As for you, being summoned for the first time in your long long life was an unwelcome surprise. You were a seraphim for heaven's sake. The cream of the crop, highest of the high, and that wasn’t pride speaking only facts. You were crucial to running the celestial realm.

But somehow you’re undeniably tied to his human. You could feel where his soul became intermeshed with your very essence. How wrong it felt to be tied to something so mortal, and delicate, and free.

Any attempts to leave would surely be met with disaster.

So you stay. Lucifer is cold. You can’t blame him. Being there reopens old wounds that he’d rather have remained closed. But just ignoring each other isn’t going to work.

He’s not interested in the celestial realm, and despises any blessing you try and give him, but a fresh cup of coffee during an all-nighter seems to make him brighter than any magic you could do and when you run your hands through his hair he looks at you with more fondness than you can comprehend.

You learn to be more human. He learns to let go of the past.

And one day you find that you don’t want to leave anymore.

For celestial sake that thought should as well be treason! But it’s true.

It’s a spring afternoon and Lucifer plays celestial lullabies on his piano and you want nothing more than for the beautiful night to come so you can sweep him in your arms and remind him how he glows.

You don’t know what is right and what is wrong anymore, but you know that this human is yours and you are his. To rip off your wings would be to find solace in his arms. But you can not give him that. This he knows.

So you promise to protect him, in words he can’t hear but he understands. The spread of your wings shield him from the world and you press blessings to his skin in the shape of the crescents in his back and your lips on his neck. If nothing else you’ll keep him safe. When the world seems too big and the stress of his life gets him down you’ll always be here for him to crawl back to. You can give him that much.

Mammon

That was it

You had to have been assigned the stupidest human in the world

When you were promoted to guardian angel you kinda thought it would be more ‘protecting orphans’ and ‘guiding lost puppies back home’ NOT watching a grown man spend his last paycheck on his eighth Nigerian prince scam

Seriously mammon? Did the prophetic dreams you sent mean nothing? The visions of the future he coincidentally had after hitting his head on a light post, only simple illusions? What more could you try beyond simply marching down their and clocking him on the head yourself?

...unless

Raphael would have your wings if you went to the human world. But that would be a lot less painful that having to watch whatever Mammon was going to do with all the rubber cement he just bought.

The next morning you decide to sneak down. The city was amazing, all colored light and fun machines that whizzed by you on the streets

But you had to stay focused

You were an angel on a mission

You made your way towards central park. Mammon went there every morning to swindle tourists out of their wallets. If you were fast you’d get there before the first patrol office started chasing him.

Spotting the albino you marched straight towards him, readied yourself, and smacked him over the head.

Maybe not very angel-like but it worked.

One introduction later and you're officially a guardian angel

Mammon’s actually pretty nice once you get to know him. Sure he may be a bit too obsessed with lining his pockets but for all his talk he never hesitates to try and help you out.

Consistent affection and care is good for him. He never really knows how to react when you wrap your wings around him but even with his tsundere objections it's obvious he’s pleased.

He’ll take whatever scraps of affection you’ll give him and practically beams at every little gesture you do, no matter how small or insignificant.

You do have to be careful though.

At his request you had attempted to bless him with a bit of luck. An easy enough spell for an angel like you (even if you were 90% sure he planned to go gambling after). Whatever scheming he’s doing immediately stops the moment you cup his face. He seems to freeze when you lean in, placing a gentle kiss on his cheek

You were about to congratulate yourself on a spell well done when you noticed the condition he was in. He was like a living statue, a statue with a very very red face

Before you can ask what was wrong he flails pushing you away and darting off to his room

Any attempts to speak to him the rest of the day were met with incoherent shouting.

It might be best to withhold any magic until you can figure out how humans work

Levi

Once again Levi’s dedication to anime gets him into trouble

It started with his most recent obsession, a new anime that follows a group of angels, produced by the famous company, Dove. The plot, the animation, the soundtrack, all of it was amazing so when they came out with a new limited edition item featuring the very symbol that the main character wore he just had to have it

The moment it came he was setting it up on its own altar, a handmade replica just like in the show only for- Oh no

Before his eyes burst a shining visage of light and then you

You blink in surprise, whether it's from taking a human form for the first time in decades or the strange new room you were in, only you know

The scene may be foreign but the guy quivering on the floor was not

BE NOT AFRAID

Your booming voice echoes around the room

For some reason the guy begins to freak out even more

Didn’t he see your halo? You even told him to not be afraid. Were humans really so strange? :(

Oh well. You hum making your aura as comforting as possible and slowly the guy calms down enough for you to coax him into a seat as you begin to explain.

Which might not have been the best move.

The moment it sunk in he was bombarding you with questions

Yes you were an angel, no you didn’t know what anime was, yes you had wings, no you didn’t have any secret ultimate moves...whatever those were

He ranted and raved over this and that and you let him. He seemed like he needed someone to talk to. It also let you piece together what had happened.

He seemed to be a natural sorcerer, and a powerful one at that if he could someone an angel with no training or even knowledge that he could do magic

Just a few minutes in his presence made his self loathing obvious. Mix in a bit of anxiety and envy and you essentially have Levi in a nutshell

So you decide to stay

What kind of angel would you be if you just left him here? Michael would understand.

Or he wouldn't, it didn’t really matter because you already made up your mind.

Living with Levi is an experience for both of you.

He introduces you to so many new things. He had little boxes that could control light and screens containing actual people to talk to. It was all quite fanciful

In return you act as his friend, encouraging him to go out with you and attending cons with him, even if you still weren't exactly sure what cosplaying is

Slowly he begins to open up for you

He’s still nervous to go out in public, and a complete introvert at heart.

But that was fine. You could both figure out this new world together, at your own pace

Satan

Definitely was not trying to summon a demon to lay havoc on his enemies

Nope, not him he says all while trying to casually kick away vials of mysterious fluids

...Right

You’ve been down to the human world enough to know a demon summoner when you see one

Or in this case a failed summoner

He has no excuse for why he called you and instead seems more insistent that you leave

As much as you you might like to return to the celestial realm, you cannot in good conscience leave a man that you know is going to try and raise hell on earth the moment your gone

So you stay, and it's a good thing you do

This man has anger issues like no other

You thought Raphael was bad this guy is like a demon himself

However he seems willing to try and make the best of what he considers a bad situation

He asks you a lot of questions on the celestial realm

For a guy who knows so much about the devildom he seems to really be lacking on any knowledge on the other celestial beings

He mostly asks you questions on the celestial war, which is a touchy topic at best and downright upsetting at worst

He’s very interested in your opinions as your point of view is very different from his own, what with being a different species and everything

You learn things too, mostly about humans and cats but you suppose its a fair trade

Because of this you become close friends

You really win him over when he finds out your calming aura naturally attracts the stray kittens Satan's been trying to pet for the last few months

It’s not uncommon to head out to late night coffee shops and discuss the merits of different aspects of your lives

But maybe you’ve gotten a bit to close when he starts asking you to revise his summoning notes

Asmo

Apparently a lifetime of partying has prepared Asmo for some very weird discoveries

When you're sent down to the human world you have one job, find and keep an eye on the potentially dangerous summoner who's been in contact with multiple high level demons in the past few days.

Instead you end up meeting Asmo

You were prepared for a fight, not to be tackled into a hug the moment you revealed yourself

Asmo on the other hand is squealing with excitement

Sweetie, he's been waiting for this moment! This is his first time meeting an angel after all

He immediately begins talking about everything he wants to do

You quickly find out that he hasn’t made any pacts...yet, if only because he “couldn’t bear to damage his skin with such an ugly mark”

...Well you suppose that's a reason to not sell your soul

Even thoughts he's aware of the three realms it doesn’t make him any less enamoured with you

He’s never met an angel, he’s quick to mention. He’d love to get to know you, if you get what he means ;)

Are all humans so upfront?

If you decline he still wants to see your true form, even after you explain that no, if you transform you will not just be a beautiful angel with wings but instead a glowing mass of eyes and feathers and angelic light that will probably end up blinding him

Blinded because of your beauty ;) ;) ;)

That said he’s easily satisfied when you just bring out your wings.

He loves fussing with them and decorates them with jewelry and roses whenever you leave them out

He even starts an angel trend on insta after posting a photo as if they were coming from his back instead

Claims your glowing aura is great for his skin

You’re not sure if that’s a pick up line or if he’s serious but he definitely basks in your presence

Loves when you talk about the celestial realm, somewhere he desperately wants to go

I mean it's the only place that's fit for a beauty like him right? But of course he can’t die yet, his fans would be sooo upset

You agree to bring him up there one day, even if that sounds a little morbid

Of course he asks you to become his guardian angel

That may not be your actual job but you can’t resist his puppy dog eyes

You and him go pretty much everywhere together, bar some more xxx rated sites

He introduces you to parties and bars, and while you don’t indulge it's enjoyable to see humans in their natural element. They’re so fun and free spirited just like Asmo

Maybe that's what attracted you to him in the first place

He loves life for what it is, something so admirably human

But you don’t slack off either. You take your role as Official Guardian Angel seriously. You guard his drinks when he goes to the bathroom, and hum celestial lullabies when he’s sad and escort him down dark alleys when walking home. He has nothing to fear with you around.

You’ve become very fond of this human. Perhaps you’ll stick around a bit longer than you planned

Beel

It’s rare to be assigned to a human so...mundane

But that’s exactly what Beel is. He goes to the gym in the mornings, works a nine to five, and comes back home to his dog

He even has a good relationship with this family, do you know how hard that is to find in this day and age???

The only thing even slightly abnormal about this guy is his appetite

He could put a gluttony demon to shame with the way he eats

But the point is you really can’t figure out why you’ve been assigned to him or how your supposed to guide him

Eat a little less? Stop stealing your brother's lunch?

It’s the first time in a long while you’ve been so stumped

So you do what any sane angel would, go down to the human world to meet him yourself

He’s a likeable guy and it’s easy to get close to him, more so do to your angelic status

Although it’s surprising how well he takes the whole angel revelation

To be honest your pretty sure he forgets most of the time

He tends to follow you around, especially at night when he insists on walking you to wherever you need to be. It’s sweet even though there's little that can really harm you in the human realm

You quickly realize that he’s the type to have nightmares, usually calling out for one of his brothers or his sister

It’s become habit to wake up and head to his room

Just being there seems to calm him down

The first time he wakes up when your doing this he ends up asking you to stay

Isn’t shy about sharing the bed either.

He’s easy going so goes along with whatever idea you have

Especially when he starts finding snacks in his bag, each one blessed for a good day or to stay full or whatever little thing you thought of that day

Belphegor

Humans can’t see angels. Not unless they want to be seen, you remind yourself for what must be the tenth time.

But you’re almost certain that guy is looking right at you.

Step to the left, his head follows

To the right, his eyes narrow looking at you like your some puzzle he just hasn’t figured out yet

…this was fine

You turn around pretending to just not see him in hope that he’ll get distracted by something else

...you glance back. Why was he still looking at you? What is with this creep?

Enough is enough.

You march over there ready to ask what his problem is. Instead he beats you to it.

Eh? You’re an angel right? He asks before you can say anything.

???? Shouldn’t he sound more shocked.

The guy just sleepily blinks. He doesn’t look like a sorcerer or a witch, in fact you can’t feel any magic from him at all.

You go to ask only to realize he’s sound asleep. It’s not like you could just leave him here. And at the same time a human who can just see angels is an oddity of itself.

You decide to hang around for a while. Belphegor doesn't mind. He only says something about it being "too troublesome to drive you off," and "you'd look like you'd just come back anyways"

Belphie sticks to you like glue, if glue was absolutely insufferable and seemed to enjoy annoying you at every possible moment

You would think this would be easy. I mean he sleeps all day and when he’s not sleeping he’s napping. Simple enough right? Wrong

When he was awake he was committed to pushing every single button you have

If it seemed like it might inconvenience or annoy you he was already doing it. Trying to smack your halo, pounce on you, or even jump off the roof just to see you scramble to catch him. He was like some terrible terrible cat

Luckily he was never energetic for long. When he wore himself out he’d retreat to the roof of his crappy one bedroom and wait for you to join him

He liked to look at the stars and he’d point them out to you. Orion, Polaris, Sirius, he would mutter, bringing you back to the days when Michael, who was once so fond of you, would sneak you down to the human world just to show you the stars and darkness the celestial realm could not offer

When he finally got tired you would take over reciting Celestial names and marking the sky with your finger just to show him where they’d be.

Those times were pleasant. Even if they were brief.

“I’m gonna jump.”

“Do it.”

“You’re an angel. Aren’t you supposed to stop me before I do something stupid?”

“You won't.”

“Aight. Bet.” Belphie pitches forward and you just manage to catch him by the leg before he falls off the roof.

Brat.

Always ruining a good moment.

You can’t even be mad. The moment you pull him up he’s already resting his fluffy head in your lap waiting for you to pet him.

He may be the most troublesome human in the entire three realms, but he’s your human

[alexhandersen-marcoilsoe-fandom]

GREY HEAVENS (F/F)

@deans-ch-ch-cherrypie ie was one of the first I met here and I’m so proud of her. This beautiful and always jealous (oh lord, she is super jealous) person reached 500 followers and of course I (tried) had to write a fic. I know Cherrypie, I said this is a Hvitserk x Ariel fic, but I love Ivar too much, I just can’t ignore him, oops sorry. Te amo odiosa!

Pairing: Hvitserk x Ariel x Ivar

Warnings: F/F smut, fingering, oral, voyeurism

Words: 1726

Thank you to my amazing beta reader @quantumlocked310 for making my sentences sound good, helping me with the moodboard and always motivating me! The idea for the name of this fic is btw from my honey @jadelynlace, because I have no patience to think about an appropriate name and her titles are outstanding.

a/n:. This fandom needs more F/F so I took my chance to write one. This is also a call to those who write F/F Vikings fics -> tag me!

Forget everything you know about Ariel, because the only thing my Ariel and the Disney Ariel have in common is the red hair.

Summary: A Mermaid is the last chance Hvitserk has to revive Lagertha.

Tags: @xbellaxcarolinax @pomegranates-and-blood @heavenly1927 @walkxthexmoon @punkrocknpearls @mrsalwayswrite @grimeundglow

If you ever find her then speak cautiously, she is mightier than the sea and gentler than the breeze.

The seer warned Hvitserk; mermaids don't like humans. Also, Aslaug taught him not to talk about mermaids since he was a child. The fear that these beings might hear was too big. They pull men into the bottom of the sea and let their ships sink. Their voices intoxicate the mind and manipulate humans. Their beauty dazzles men and makes it easy to underestimate them. They can hide but are still visible for those who are meant to see them.

He rode days and weeks to the far north of Norway, where the sea is wild and high waves crash against the huge rocks, far away from all the villages. Where there are almost no animals to eat and fish are difficult to catch. He could easily die, but it was the last chance Hvitserk had to revive Lagertha.

~~·······~~

Evening dawned and he gathered wood to prepare the fireplace for the night. A few faint fire sparks flew away in the slight wind when he ground two stones together to start the fire.

"With so little wood you won't survive more than two hours" Someone complained behind him.

Hvitserk hastily picked up his axe and turned around to see who that was. Almost nobody knew why he left Kattegat. Every day he thought about how he killed the most famous shield maiden. The wisest witches and healers tried to bring her back. Daily sacrifices and even Hvitserk himself gave his blood in the attempt to revive her, but none of this was successful.

“Ivar?” He dropped the axe. “What are you doing here? Tell me, who sent you, huh?” He grinned.

“Brother, I am Ivar the Boneless, if this half fish is really more powerful than me then I have to see her.” Ivar didn't want to rely on the rumors.

“I don’t want to be a mermaid’s meal, so be kind Ivar.”

“I doubt we will find her, them, it, whatever” Ivar was quite unimpressed by Hvitserk’s enthusiasm. He was just looking forward to the little trip through Norway’s landscapes.

~~·······~~

They walked an extensive white sand beach in search of mussels whenthey heard stones rolling and humming high voices coming out of a big cave.

The sun shone through a big hole in the cave’s ceiling and illuminated two women laying on one another. They quietly tried to climb over the slippery stones in the entrance of the cavern to get closer.

The pureness of their naked bodies, never touched by a man, sliding against each other. Their bright silver-colored skins, glistening in the sunlight like sea pearls. Their wavy hair hid part of their faces. Rose lips sucking on the skin of the red-haired's neck while their thighs pressed around the other’s, spreading their juices over their intertwined legs. Two bodies soft as silk melting together, grinding their pussies and bringing each other to a shared pleasure.

It was silent, only their heavy breathing echoed in the big cave, making the squelching noises of their wetness hush. Their bodies harmonized and embraced; they took their time to satisfy each other without showing dominance.

She shivered at the feeling of the blue-haired’s teeth raking along the flesh of her throat. She was enticed by the way her tongue swirls and swipes the mounds of her chest, tasting the salty valley between her plump breasts. Addicted to the sight of her hips thrusting against her own, feeling the heat that wracked their entire bodies.

One hand roamed down the shape of her body and groped her ass. The blue-haired lifted her partner’s right leg and placed it over her shoulder, exposing her fully. She licked two fingers on her right hand and trailed them down over the red-haired thigh until she reached her cunt.

The red-haired pressed her beloved closer, having only a moment to breathe out before she delved her wet fingers inside her lover’s dripping walls. She stroked deeper, harder and faster; all the while nibbling the soft skin behind her earlobe. She pulled her fingers out and teased her entrance. Her tongue swirled over her lip, before she thrusted her fingers in one move again into her partner’s throbbing pussy adding one finger to stretch her more.

The red-haired pried her legs open andburied both hands in the other’s blue hair to trail her down, arching her back to catch each kiss she left. She brought her lover’s head between her legs and laid her mouth on her center, replacing her fingers. Her arms wrapped around the red-haired's thighs as her tongue dragged against her warmth, parting her folds to rub against her most sensitive spots. She moaned, savoring the taste of the one beneath her pulsating pussy, not missing a drop of her juices.

When her thumb brushes the smooth skin of her hard nipple, kneading it, the red-haired rewarded it with a melodic moan, a little louder this time. The strands of her red hair fell down from her face as she raised her head, revealing her gorgeous face. Her eyes shut tight and her lips trembled, before they spread in a euphoric moan with every slam of her thighs onto the blue-haired cheeks. She bucked her hips nearly throwing the blue-haired off her lap. Her hands looking for something to grip onto, settling them on blue locks. Seeing the lust-filled gaze of her beautiful girl tensed her body. Her end was near, the one above her flicked her tongue at a fast pace, curling it over clit once, twice until her body exploded in satisfaction, coating her mouth with her juices.

The shameless string of moans woke Hvitserk up from his trance.

“Do you think they are mermaids? Real mermaids?”

Ivar didn’t answer. Hvitserk hit him with his elbow, but h was totally obsessed from their magnet-like aura.

“Hey Ivar” He tried to get his attention again.

“What?!” Ivar finally could avert his gaze from them.

“I asked, if you think that these are mermaids?”

“Of course they are! Did you ever see a woman being so divine?!” It was obvious to him.

They heard a loud noise of something heavy dropping into the water but when they looked back to the place they were laying, both were gone.

“You idiot! See what you did, you should learn to speak more-”

“Mermaid! I can see you!” The mermaid’s colored hair reflected in the water. “Come out here! We don’t want to kill you!” Ivar ignored his brother and crawled over the slippery stones in their direction.

The red-haired rose confident out of the water presenting herself. Waterdrops covered her pale and shimmering skin. She titled her head to one side, focusing the two foreign men with her green eyes, without blinking.

“Vikings” She broke the intriguing silence. The way this word rolled of her tongue was tantalizing.

“We didn’t want to...uhm… “ Hvitserk stuttered ashamed about Ivar’s insolence. “We are looking for someone, a special woman, well she is more than a woman. Her name– “

“Ariel. I knew you would come. You’re here because of Lagertha’s death.” She completed his sentence.

The blue-haired came out from behind the rock and placed herself close to Ariel. Two goddess-like appearances, both the same; tall, hypnotizing them.

“Ariel. Hello Ariel” Ivar smirked, speaking in a seductive tone, scanning her naked body with his glance. “I assume you are the powerful creature Hvitserk needs.” He took a lazy step closer. ”Powerful and beautiful. I have a weakness for woman like you.” He confessed, brushing his lower lip between his teeth.

She approached and her cheek pressing lightly against his. Her damp red hair wet his armor as she leaned forward to whisper in his ear.

“I know who you are Ivar. So let me tell you whoIam.” He closed his eyes to memorize her unique salty smell better. “I am not a woman, I am a mermaid and mermaids don’t need to deal with men. And...don’t you dare to touch me!” Ivar clenched his fist and lowered his hand again.

She leaned back and spoke to the more rational brother. “I can’t help you Hvitserk. I’m sorry you came here in vain.” She wasn’t a talkative creature, especially when she felt used.

“Hey silver skin, where are you going?” Ivar started to treat her rude out of frustration. “We are not done here.” Ivar followed her out of the cave to the beach.

“But the seer told me you can, you can revive people. I didn’t want to kill her, please, it was a mistake.” Hvitserk tried to persuade her from the distance.

“This is my home.” She admired the calm of the ocean. “I can save anyone who gets lost in the heart of the sea, but Lagertha is not there.”

“Hey!” She gasped as Ivar grabbed her arm to hold her back. She immediately closed her eyes and was benumbed.

“No” The blue haired yelled and hissed, pushing Ivar away. He let go of her and Ariel started breathing again. Her eyes opened and even if they hadn’t told her how Lagertha died, she already knew it. She felt what they felt and saw what they saw. There was no secret that remained hidden from her.

“It wasn’t you who killed her, you were deceived Hvitserk. I am unable to overpower a dark might.” Hvitserk bowed his head. “But she’s fine. She is with Ragnar and she forgives you…and you too, Ivar.” Ivar rolled his eyes.

Ariel took her beloved by the hand and both stepped into the little waves. The silver colour of their legs became more luminous and greener the longer they stood in the water.

“Let’s go back to our sisters, my dear. I can hear them calling.” Her long red hair framed the curves from her swaying hips.

“And Ivar- “ She looked over her shoulder “- as long as your heart craves revenge, you will never be able to love.”

The sunlight reflected on her emerald green scales before she disappeared with her dearest in the depth of the sea completely.

Ivar waited a moment longer hoping to see her one last time.

“Ivar, it’s over.” Hvitserk laid his arm on Ivar’s shoulder and pulled him away.

[kaiparker-avengerssmut]

Their Doll 15

Bucky

B.Barnes x Stark!Reader, S.Rogers x Stark!Reader

series synopsis:  y/n Stark, all records of her non existent, and yet Hydra still find her. When she is kidnapped by a certain super-soldier and no one believes her, she finds herself searching for unexpected familiarity in her not-so-distant past.

Series Warnings: smut, violence, torture, swearing

Chapter Summary: Tony throws a party, bucky returns

Warnings: kissing, swearing

A/n: The timeline in this has been altered, as there I things I wanted to include but I also wanted this fic to follow the storyline/timeline of Winter Soldier and Civil war.So for purposes of this fanfic, Peter Parker was discovered by Tony at a much younger age - when he was bitten - and has been an intern with him since, almost like a protégée.(For the purposes of this story Peter was bitten much younger too - more like when he was 9 or ten rather than 14/15)

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

It's been nearly six months since I escaped HYDRA a second time, and since then all me and Steve have done is have sex. It's glorious, the freedom (and the pleasure) that comes with being with Steve, and I love him more and more every day. He told me he loved me about a months ago, over a candle-lit dinner and a bunch of roses. It was so sweet, but I am yet to say the words back to him. Well, not that I've been talking much, per say.

My voice was slowly returning, yet I still couldn't string together more than two words and my voice was far from being strong or sounding like it used to.

Bruce had miraculous found some medication that helped, and abashedly admitted that if the sex was helping me make any noise, it should continue.

One of the main issues, is that almost everyone except my dad had been walking on eggshells around me for months. And in new exactly why. It's because they're yet to bring him the soldier.

And if I'm being a hundred percent honest, I'm slightly happy they haven't yet. After all, I don't know if I could bury my feelings towards him and that wouldn't be fair to Steve. And yet in being fair to Steve, I was being cruel to the soldier. After all, to make Steve comfortable, I'm mentally condemning the soldier to continue the horrid and violent lifestyle that comes with HYDRA.

I shake the overcrowding thoughts off, resetting my stance before landing a pinch to the bag.

"Good." Steve praises, stood beside the swinging bag with his arms crossed over his chest. I continue to punch it hard, focusing more on the strength than the technique as I try and will away the flurries thoughts in my mind. "Why don't we try that thing you always get wrong?" Steve asks, almost mockingly. I shoot him a glare. He chuckled, unwrapping my fists for my before bringing me over to the table where our water sat. I took a big pull of the refreshing liquid, barely paying attention as Steve readies the targets.

When I saunter over, he hands me a set of small, but agile, blades before stepping away. I clear my throat, putting myself into the correct stance before giving my boyfriend a nod. Steve nods back, pressing the button before the human-shaped targets begin to move. They're staggered, the last one so far back I can never seem to hit the bullseye. No matter how many times a I try - which is at least once a day - I can never hit it.

The aim is to hit the targets in order of closest to furthest, burying the blade in the mannequins' chests where the red dots it. I take a deep breath, letting my wrist fall loose. I release the blade of my exhale, watching with narrowed eyes as it sinks itself into the black dummy's chest. I let out a breath I was holding, moving onto the next one. Bullseye. Bullseye. Bullseye. Onto the last target, my vision focused, my mind centred on the farther and the target only.

Inhale. Focus. Exhale. Throw.

"Holy shit!" I exclaimed, before my hand quickly flys to my mouth, slapping over my lips in shock. It was almost cartoonish, the way Steve's eyes widened like a deer in headlights before the brightest, wolfish grin became his lips.

The knife had wizzed through the air, breezing past the other targets before the tip was piercing smoothly through the little red dot at its heart. Bullseye.

"Holy shit." I repeat, a smile pulling the corners of my mouth up. Steve rushed forward, engulfing my knees a bone-crushing hug before lifting me from the ground and spinning around with me in his arms.

"You spoke!" He rejoiced.

"I can talk! My voice - it's back!" I was starstruck, completely and utterly speechless. I can talk.

"Holy shit indeed." A voice came from behind us.

"Tony." Steve greeted as he let me down, my feet already carrying me across the room until I was enveloped in my dad's arms too.

"We should celebrate. I'm throwing you a party." Tony decided, placing a kiss to my hair. "Tonight. Wear something nice, both of you." He pulled away, looking pointedly at me and Steve before retreating with a smile.

...

I stood before my mirror, hands smoothing over the dark blue fabric laying over my hips. I breathed deeply, head tilting to the side as I studied myself. I wore a silky blue dress that cling to my waist and fell elegantly down from my hips, hitting my ankles and presenting a thigh-high slit on one side. The dress barely had a back, the front showing just enough cleavage to be considered teasing. Around my neck I wore a necklace steve had given me the night he told me he loved me, and I couldn't help but breath out a laugh at the small silver Captain America shield charm hanging from it. I wore some shoes I new I'd regret - trainers. Plain, white canvas shoes that totally ruined the look. But I'd never worn heels before, and I didn't feel like embarrassing myself at my own party.

My hair fell over my shoulders in loose curls, make up simple as I never tended to wear any anyway.

I took a deep breath, opening my room door to be greeted by Steve. He was dashing, clad in a navy blue suit and tie, his hair slightly messy bit in a hot way, and his blue eyes gleaming.

"You look breathtaking, doll." He commented, eyes scanning over my body, clearly lingering on the slit in my dress. I smirked slightly, looping my arm with his outstretched one.

"You look rather handsome yourself." I smiled sweetly, not missing the way steve held back a laugh when he finally noticed my choice of footwear. "Hey!" I laughed, slapping his arm playfully.

"I'm sorry, doll. I just didn't quite expect it." He sniggered, making me scoff and roll my eyes.

"And what did you expect? Three foot tall, strappy heels? When have you even seen me in anything besides trainers or tactical boots, Rogers?" I asked pointedly, shutting Steve up. When we reached the main room when my part was already in full swing, Steve pulled my close to him, coaxing a gasp from my lips.

"And where would you be hiding your knives tonight?" Steve murmured in my ear, nibbling on the lob as his arm kept me firmly pressed against him. It was a little joke we'd formed, as every time I was out in public steve managed to find a knife on me somewhere - in a pocket, down my bra, tucked into the waistband of whatever I was wearing, you name it. To anyone else, we simple looked to be having a normal conversation like any couple would've, but it was much more than that. I assumed in his question Steve was referring to my backless dress that hung so low there's no way I'd even find a way to wear underwear with it. So I went without.

"If tonight goes how I'm planning, you'll have plenty of time to find out for yourself." I whispered against his neck, smirking when his adam's apple bobbed. I sauntered away slowly, making sure my hips swayed as I walked.

The party flew by, people I could hardly remember greeting me and telling me how much they'd missed me as if they'd been some kind of surrogate mother or something to me.

That's where I currently found myself, a fake smile so big it was probably obvious plastered over my face as I nodded along whenever May said something. Peter stood beside her, champagne flute that I just new was filled with appletiser clutched in his hand, smirk hidden behind the rim of the glass at my pained expression.

"So how long have you been home?" May asked, smile so genuine it was embarrassing how fake my own was.

"Only about six months." I smiled back, eyes darting around the room nervously looking for an escape.

"Six months?! You should've met up with Peter sooner! You would've hung out with her, right Peter?" May exclaimed, turning to her nephew who was clearly trying to hold back a snigger as he answered with a quick 'of course'. I sent him a glare that briskly morphed back into a smile the second May was turned my way again.

The smile turned much more real the second I saw my dad climb up onto the table across the room, glass and spoon in his hands. May and Peter spun to look at him along with everyone else in the room when the captivating sound of the metal clanging gracefully against the champagne flue echoed in the room.

"Thank you, thank you, everyone!" Tony called, chatter diminishing in the crowd at his voice. A smile - an actual smile - graced my lips when I realised he was making a speech about me being home. "I'm just here tonight, talking to you all, about my daughter!" Tony began, a small applause following as many pairs of eyes sought for me in the crown.

"You know, the day I found you laying on my doorstep," he stated, taking a swig of his drink, "I thought: how the hell am I gonna raise this stupid ass kid that's been dumped on my like some sort of...animal." I gasped, tears bubbling in my eyes. I thought we were past this- this hate. "This fucking bastard that's come from the filthy streets."

"Tony, that's enough." Nat says from where she stood beside the table, tugging the man's ankle in an attempt to get him down.

"You're drunk." Steve stated from beside him, anger written over his usually perfect features.

"It's all you! It's you, y/n!" He shouted.

"Dad.." I mumbled through my tears, every head in the room locked on my as my bottom lips wobbled aggressively.

"You killed me the day you showed up, and ever day I see you I realise how much I regret taking you in, raising you as my own." He spat with a venom I'd never heard in my dad's voice before.

"Tony!" Steve shouted, but he merely pushed the super soldier's words aside.

"You're not special, y/n! And you never were! Just a Thorne in my side," he explained, climbing down from the table with a slight drunken wobble. "That's why I picked Peter. Smart, agile, unique." He rambled on, making his was through the sea of people that parted instantly for him until he was right in front of me, Peter and May. "So why don't you make this easy, and don't make me chose between you a second time." Tony claimed.

"What? Because you'd chose him?" I sobbed, hand covering my mouth as I bit back the tears.

"Tony, don't!" Steve snapped, now at my side and holding his hands on my hips possessively.

"If you chose him over you're own daughter, Tony...I swear to god somebody better hide you in the time it takes me to find a gun." Nat glared, standing to my side with a wicked look in her eyes.

"Y/n is your daughter." Bruce tried to reason, flinching away when Tony shot him a look that could kill.

"Yeah, I'd chose him." Tony finally settles, silence ensuing after the piercing shatter of a glass broke the room. May stood there, broken glass at her feet and mouth open so wide her jaw must've physically hurt.

"Y/n, I- I am so sorry.." Peter barely whispered from beside May, his own face red from a mixture of threatening tears and embarrassment. I have Tony a dirty look, leaning forward slightly and spitting at the ground in front of him.

"Fuck you." I bit like a viper, spinning harshly on my heel and storming from the room, trying so hard to hide my tears until I was out of sight.

Once I'd reached the stairs, I was kicking my heels off and springing up the steps, two at a time. Reaching the top, I clutched the railing for a second as if to ground myself as a sob ripped through me, my palm covering my mouth again as if it could stop the sounds. I padded quickly across the carpeted floor, fumbling with the handle of my door before pushing it open blindly, stumbling inside.

A sharp gasp was stolen from me when I walked in, more tears clouding my eyes. I hastily swiped them away with my palms, desperate to get a good look of the man before me. His cerulean eyes, long and thick dark hair, his undeniably visible metal arm...

Then his lips met mine. Not desperate or hard like usual, but gentle and slow, as if I would shatter to a thousand pieces if he even held my soft face with too much pressure. "Y/n." he said seriously, but a small smile still glistening in his deep blue eyes. "Soldier." I responded, reflecting his playful seriousness. He pulled me in for another passionate kiss, my whole body relishing in its tenderness. The soldier bought his mouth next to my ear, leaning over me and holding my waist carefully. My thoughts raced one another over and over, but there was always a clear winner: I had him back.

His compassionate whisper floated past my ear, dancing around the loose curls of hair that were tucked messily behind my ear, a whirlwind of emotions tunnelling through me, allowing the butterflies to roam free as he murmured "It's Bucky, by the way."

"We're done."

A frown settled across my face, my head snapping the the side to see Steve stood gobsmacked and clearly hurt in the door. He must've followed me, to make sure I was alright and now he's seen this, and - how long had he been standing there?

"Steve, it's not what it looks like." Bucky tried, now also looking at the Super Soldier.

"So it's not my best friend kissing my girl? Hm?" Steve almost whimpered, as if the words physically hurt him to say.

"Well, yes, but-"

"No. No buts. I don't give a shit what you have to say." Steve interjected me, the harshness of his voice cutting through me like a knife. "Have a nice fucking life." He spat, before turning and retreating out of the door. I started wistfully after him, before glancing back to Bucky and opening my mouth to speak.

"Go. I'll talk to you later." He answered for me, a reassuring glint in his blue-grey eyes. I gave him a small nod and a grateful smile before instantly running after Steve.

"Steve! Steve, wait!" I called after him, but the man's strides were so damn long I couldn't catch up to him even whilst running. "Please, let me explain!" He turned around at that, my body colliding with the wall of muscle that was his torso.

"What's there to explain, y/n?" He said, defeated.

"I- I don't really know. I just don't want to lose you." I murmured, placing my hands of his chest and looking up at the man through my lashes. He wrapped his hands around my wrists before yanking them away from his chest, tears stinging in my eyes. "I love you, Steve." I whispered, for the first time. Steve averted his gaze with a frustrated sigh.

"It's a little too late for that. You can tell Bucky he won't be hearing from me either." Steve spoke, dropping my wrists and turning to leave again. I didn't follow him this time, I didn't call after him, I just sunk to my knees, head in my hands, and cried.

[nightwishesworld]

A Better Way

Because I am unhappy with our beloved wife’s death I decided to write my own.

That being said...SPOILERS!!!!!!!! I wrote this based on and referenced canon events in the game. If you wanna skip this and wait for the game’s official release in a few days I completely understand.

Alcina’s form trembles atop the pile of rubble she created during their fall. Somehow that lowlife Ethan survived the fall as well. Fuck, what does it take to kill that man? Even in her monstrous form, she failed to stop a flimsy little mortal man. Is he really that powerful? Or is she simply the weak little rat Mother Miranda always said she was? The answer is obvious now.

Alcina knows this is it for her. There is no winning or even recovering from this. She’s lost way too much blood and is in no state to replenish herself. She hears him stumble to his feet somewhere beside her and grab his gun. It doesn’t bother her anymore. Even now as she turns to stare down the barrel of a shotgun she knows she deserves what’s to come. She failed in her task.

Everyone that depends on her is now in grave danger and it’s all her fault. Because she wasn’t good enough to protect her family from a single human man.

Her family....

Images of her beautiful daughters' lifeless piles of ash lying abandoned on the floor like yesterday’s garbage hurt her more than any weapons could hope to. What kind of mother let her daughters, her own flesh and blood, get slaughtered because she was too incompetent to take care of a little pest? A failure of a mother. Their blood is on her hands, not Ethan’s.

Mother Miranda will have to make the call to Heisenberg to let him know why Ethan is on his way to the factory. And about them. After everything that this woman has done for her and her family and this is how Alcina repays her? How pathetic of her. And her little brother as well. She’s failed everyone she cared about on this god-forsaken earth.

Alcina sighs as Ethan cocks his gun and inches closer and closer to her. After letting out a long exhale she opens her eyes and stared down at him. He’s in shit-shape but he’ll survive. Suddenly that doesn’t sound so bad. If he can finish the job, at least.

“Do it,” she whispers, and her voice cracks. Alcina will not cry in front of this vile creature; she refuses. “I am nothing without the love of my daughters. I’d rather die than live a day without their presence.”

She could have sworn she saw a hint of remorse flash across his bloodied features before he grounded himself once more. He probably didn’t even believe her. Why would he? All he sees is a hideous beast that needs to slain. Not a broken-hearted mother mourning the loss of her darling children. No one has ever seen them for who they really are. Pity.

Her head hangs and she catches a glimpse of his shadow, his arms raising.

“I deserve this,” Alcina thinks to herself.

BANG!

Karl Heisenberg was sitting in his office, legs stretched atop his desk glazing over files. Pretending to work so no one would bother him. He was so lost in his own little fantasy land that the phone ringing next to him nearly started him out of his chair.

He let out a dramatic groan, knowing full well it was Alcina calling to continue their petty argument from earlier. A chuckle escaped his mouth remembering how he told her to drop dead before hanging up.

He pinched the bridge of his nose and begrudgingly brought the phone to his ear.

“Didn’t I tell you earlier to-“

“Heisenberg!” Mother Miranda’s voice spoke. The man nearly choked on air when he heard her voice.

“Miranda! Apologies, I thought it was Alcina calling me.”

Mother Miranda paused, but only for a moment. Her tone was as it always was; calm with a hint of disappointment. “That is what I am calling about, actually. Alcina failed to keep Mr. Winters under control and he escaped. I can only assume he is making his way over to you now.”

“Alcina and the girls, are they-“

“No longer assets we need to be concerned about. The Ceremony will continue on schedule with or without them, is that understood?”

He was completely floored. His beloved, pain in the ass, older sister is dead. And what of his adorable little gremlin nieces? They’re gone too? How can Miranda possibly expect him to just-“

“Is that understood, Heisenberg?”

He cleared his throat and nodded as if she could see him. “Of course, Miranda. The preparation will continue as-“

She hung up.

Heisenberg put the phone down and buried his head in his hands. He didn’t feel anything. Only numbness. The longer he sat there thinking about them the harder to became to think about the stupid ceremony. Or that human parasite on its way to him.

His anger got the best of him and he slammed his fists down on the desk. “To hell with Mother Miranda.”

He called one of his lackeys in and filled them in on the basics of the situation, warning him about Ethan mostly. Heisenberg was to depart for Castle Dimitrescu as soon as possible. Let the lycans have fun with their new incoming chew toy until his return.

The ride up to the castle was ghostly. He expected to hear the girls’ laughter as he entered the main doors as they always do when he visits. They were always happy to see their dear Uncle Heisenberg.

Cassandra’s ash pile was the first to be found. Simply because it was out in the open by the entrance leading down to the basement. It was obviously her because the smell of her lilac perfume was still infused in her ashes. He kneeled beside it and stroked it gently between his fingers, whispering apologies and words of comfort. Both for him and Cassandra. Then he took an old pendant necklace from his pocket and ever so gently, scooped some of her ashes into it.

“There you are, Cass. Safe and sound with me.”

On a hunch he decided to look around the basement before searching the rest of the castle for Bela and Daniela. He already knew where Alcina was resting. Bela was indeed laid in one of the extraction rooms of the basement. She collapsed behind a pillar as if she were trying to hide or shield herself. Heisenberg did the same thing and scooped up her ashes in his necklace, this time kissing the pads of his fingers and laying them on the ash pile.

Daniela was next. She was in the library, literally on the other side of the door. Heisenberg cursed himself for unintentionally spreading her ashes as he opened the door and nearly stepping on the poor girl. He stayed with her longer because of this, whispering a thousand apologies to her. The way she was laid down made Heisenberg think Daniela tried to escape and came really close to doing so.

A few tears streamed down his cheeks as she gathered her ashes in his pendant. That man will pay for what he’s done. For taking such innocent souls from the world that had so much more in store for them.

His beloved sister was last. She wasn’t where he thought she would be, which he found odd, but taking a closer look around it all made sense. The damn burst behind his eyes and he openly cried for the first time in decades.

“Fuck,” he sobbed, soothing his sister’s large heap of ashes. “I didn’t mean literally, Alcina.”

He grabbed a fist full of ash and clutched it to his chest. “I’m so sorry, sister. I should have helped you trapped that rat when he escaped me the first time. But I won’t let that happen again.”

Just like with the girls, he scooped up some of her ashes in the pendant. But this time instead of putting it back around his neck he gave it a few delicate shakes, mixing the four of them together as one.

“There. Now you’ll always be together; in this eternity and the next.”

He stayed there next to her for the rest of the night. They talked for hours (though it was a one-sided conversation) and watched the stars flicker into existence as the sunset. When there were enough of them out he pointed out the various constellations to her. The entire night went on like this; acting as if nothing had changed since they were children.

The sun was just starting to rise over the grassy green hills. Radiant shades of pink and gold colored the sky like never before. It was almost like looking at heaven itself. Early birds sang their song of the morning as they flew swiftly across the sky to wake the rest of the woodland creatures and the residents of the village.

Heisenberg exhaled a shaky breath. “I better be off, Sissy. Miranda will have my head if I don’t deal with that rat before the ceremony. But don’t you worry, I’ll take care of all four of you once this shitstorm has passed. You’ll be given proper burials and everyone will have a chance to say goodbye.”

He could feel the tears starting to build up again. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there to protect you or the girls. You’re a royal pain in my ass, but you’re still my big sister and I love you.”

The ride back to the factory was comforting. There was still a heavy weight on his shoulders, but he never expected it to go away. It will only go away after exacting his revenge. When he finds that man, oh boy is he in for a treat. The lycans should have done some damage to him already or at least exhausted him. Ethan is weak now. It’s time to strike back.

No one harms Karl Heisenberg’s family and gets away with it.

[dontcallmecarrie]

Replying to @kine-iende​ [hope this works and you see it, still trying to get the hang of how tags work] who said:

Thank you, author-person, for this incredible detailed answer. (Also i don't mind being tagged - or not) With Tony being so aware of the dynamic between those rivals, Justin ending as a villian is less going a betrayal from almost-family and more of a 'natural phenomen' he should have seen coming. Because as always:rivals ^^

.

To be completely honest, if this AU were a tv show the ‘Justin Hammer accidentally founded Cabal’ reveal would’ve been the huge plot twist revealed at the end of either Season 2 or 3, and it’d be a major shocker for the Avengers...but not Tony.

also just realized I somehow made an AU where the protagonist basically becomes a villain out of Spite™ and I’m not sure if that’s the weakest origin story ever, or what

After all, if this were a tv show, it’d be centered around the Avengers, and the main season one conflict would be in seeing how Tony fits in the team— which would get resolved eventually, but not before the audience gets a good look at their dynamics. Like, the chemistry between Iron Man and Captain America, how easily and seamlessly they work together without needing more than a word or two because they’re on the same page, or Tony’s cordial yet distant academic respect for Bruce [which gets contrasted with Iron Man’s uncharacteristic instant bromance with the Hulk], or... well, the list goes on.

Not to mention that having a common enemy alters their dynamic as time goes on, because while if this’d been a one-off things would’ve still been rocky between Tony and the team, whereas having to constantly coordinate because new intel indicates that their last enemy was actually connected to something bigger and that means even more teamwork...

So by this point they’ve got a good idea of their characters, how they roll, how they react under pressure and during downtime and throughout all this, Justin Hammer would make cameos because he’s SHIELD’s main weapons supplier [...among other groups, which in and of itself foreshadows some of his shadier connections later on] and between him and Tony, they’ve basically cornered the market on experts in that field— which comes in handy when we’re talking about alien tech. 

Justin wouldn’t get much screentime compared to the others, but enough for the Avengers [and the audience] to see he makes for a very good foil for Tony, with their differences being highlighted all the more due to the similarities. After all, both come across as good people: Tony’s very friendly to anyone who isn’t on his shit list, and Justin acts very polite and gentlemanly to strangers [and is 100% a mom friend to anyone he cares about]. Tony’s a hero, though, while Justin’s long since made it clear he was a businessman first and foremost.

Through all this, Justin and Tony’s dynamic is intentionally kept vague— one moment they’re perfectly friendly, the next they'll be at each others’ throats and, again, sometimes can get misinterpreted as something else. 

Then the Reveal happens, and suddenly all those past encounters and hints come up and it’s so obvious in retrospect but—

Who would’ve expected it?

Tony. 

Tony’s the only one who’s not surprised by what the latest intel’s hinting at, obtained from an intel broker who turned up dead not long after [...because said broker’d also been messing with HYDRA, but that’s the plot twist that comes up in the next season]: nothing specific, nothing concrete, but something that ties a good chunk of the previous Villains Of The Week together to reveal a far, far greater threat. 

The Cabal, and while some of its members have long since become familiar names— e.g. the Fantastic Four normally are the ones who have to deal with Victor Von Doom, but not always— its founder had been a mystery for the longest time. A mystery that has just been ended, except nobody could have expected to see the name on the file.

Everyone else’s caught flat-footed and going through several permutations of ‘oh shit’, meanwhile Tony just leans back, scrubs a hand down his face, and looks out the window with a low whistle.

“Well played, Justin. Well played.”

.

Which is when the audience learns more about their very strange dynamic, which gets revealed to have started out a rivalry during their childhood [and has now basically escalated to the most high-stakes game of chicken there ever was, but shh].

Here’s the thing: if Tony were to call their rivalry off, Justin would stop.

But...

Tony can count on one hand how many positive constants he’s had in his life: Jarvis’ [and, after his heart attack, JARVIS’] presence, and his rivalry. Those are the two things that’ve been there for him through thick and thin, the only two safe places where he knows where they stand, knows they won’t try and tear him down and that means something. 

JARVIS will never leave him [not this Jarvis, at least], but... this rivalry’s been a thing since before he met Rhodey, since before his parents died and Tony’s not entirely certain just how much it’s shaped him, but he can count on one hand how many people give a damn about him and want to see him succeed and— 

Tony’s not sure he has it in him to call it off. Not at this point. 

Not when part of him knows why he did it, because— well, every superhero needs an adversary, don’t they? For a moment, he’d been surprised Justin had the guts to do this, but it makes complete sense the more he thinks about it and Tony knows just how little respect Justin has for the others, of course he’d be the type of guy who’d go “ugh, fine, if you want something done right, gotta do it yourself”. 

.

also, before this all seems very one-sided, I think I forgot to mention that Justin’s really benefiting from this rivalry too— not as obvious early on, but it gives him something to focus on and work towards. 

Something that kept him from depression when he thought too much about his past life and discovered just how much he’d forgotten, was still forgetting, something to keep him from being bored when he looked up one day and realized— he didn’t actually have any goals in this life, did he? 

Not when his life thus far had been dictated by his parents, and he’d been okay with following along to their script for him because if it wasn’t him, it’d be his sister or an innocent child who’d be forced to live up to their impossibly high expectations as the heir to Hammer Industries... but it was something he was resigned to at this point, not something he was particularly happy about. 

This time, he... didn’t know what he wanted in life. Nor did he remember what he’d wanted last time— had they wanted to be a doctor? Teacher? Writer? They didn’t remember anymore— and it’s startling to realize that he couldn’t remember the last time he’d smiled if he wasn’t talking to his little sister. 

Justin’s never been one to seek out the approval of the adults in his life— the fact that he was surrounded by Parents of the Year [note the sarcasm] probably had something to do with that— and remembering a past life means he sees everyone his physical age and lower as kids, so he doesn’t see many people as equals.

...and then Tony decided he’d like having a rival.

At first, yeah, it was confusing; even as an adult, Justin didn’t entirely get why, but it was. Something.

Something good, and gets even better because this is something they both decided, that had nothing to do with the meticulously-annotated plan his parents had for his life, and while at first it was weird, Justin found he was actually enjoying himself [for once].

To the point where he found himself actually getting honestly, genuinely invested in said rivalry, and if he sometimes found himself trying to drill self-care into Tony sometimes, well, those bags under his eyes made them look bad, okay? It was self-interest, nothing more, really!

Really.

So when Tony went and became a superhero, Justin found himself taking a step back for a moment as he paused to consider his actions.

Paused before taking the plunge, because this was it, was serious, was pushing the limit and going past the point of no return. Was he really willing to do this?

A moment to consider things, deliberate on the possible consequences and what could happen— then he gave a sharp, decisive nod.

“Yes, we’re doing this.” 

[remsmoonlight]

— title : west side polaroids

— word count : 2.4k words

— pairing : john wich x reader

— summary : the first day unbound by the table is marked by you both.

— warnings : none except minimal mentions of death and descriptions of blood

note: please please please go easy on me i have not written any john content in months but omg i adore the song west side by ariana .. issa dreamy vibe , but yeah i couldn’t decide the title so i merged them ..... anyways :)

                     ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*   requests are open !   *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Life that does not revolve around the endless cycle of death and immorality is still new to John, the colour of crimson may have well been his favourite colour with how much he’d found it coating nearly every inch of his skin on a frequent basis. Some nights he’d awake and was sure he could see the stains of blood dried into his nails, though the flood of a bedside lamp would soon flush that worry away. Never had he been the one to imagine a life outside of what he knows, though as he stares at his image in the lengthy mirror before him, that’s what he observes in this moment. A free man.

A whole thirty days had passed since that fateful night when he secured his freedom from his .. job, wanting to allow a sufficient recovery time. Any longer and he knew you well enough to know you’d be breaking his front door down. Luckily, many of the cuts and furious bruises had almost completely healed, while some more stubborn than others were covered with a little more difficulty than he’d prefer. Still, he hopes that your reaction isn’t too explosive. With great reluctance he’d shared enough details with you to understand him and why he is the way he is, and should he not make it back you wouldn’t be left in limbo waiting for him to return. Knowing how often you found yourself worrying over him. Since when did I deserve something so good? he asks himself now and every day that greets him.

He never wants you to be left with a ghost. Especially when you had dug so deeply to prevent him from being consumed by the repetition to death and destruction by his ability to maximise results from his body when required.

Contact had been scarce between you both, and you accepted it. Knowing just what was transpiring as you went through your daily activities, wondering what John could be up to. Staying honest to yourself, your mind had conjured up the most ghastly images, a mental sketchbook where the next page would only be worse than the previous. Though, the moment you heard his voice through your mobile, you felt all the tight tension that wracked your limbs alleviate to nothing more than a dull ache that you have since forgotten.

John is a good liar however when he shared the intricate details of the life he had led, his eyes shone a truth and a pain of growing tired of all the slaughter he’d had a hand dipped into many a time. You believed him and you still do. In spite of this it’s still a difficult task for your mind to wrap itself around but for John? You would.

“ there you are, stranger! “ you greet warmly as you open your arms to finally embrace him after so long.

Your eyes shut while you relish the physical contact that you have sorely missed, you release a heavy breath of air as the moment you have been counting down to is here and you can grasp it with your fingertips. Sensations unreliant on your eyes hone in on the comfort you now feel, the smooth material you can feel to the smell of the cologne worn by John ⏤ a gentle smile drifts softly onto your features in response to the warm shield of solace envelopes you whole.

“ it took longer than I thought. “ he says as he shakes his head, you feel the action from your position

“ I'd say.. I thought I’d never see you again. “

“ I wouldn’t let that happen. “ a low whisper travels from his lips, you can feel his warm breath on you as he leans down, the action causing you to shiver at the faintly sinister tone that had been so close to overwhelming them.

In your heart you feel the strength in his words, it’s not a statement but a promise with all the faith and trust poured into them. Never had you met someone as dedicated and resolute as the man, you’d have called him a psychic because whenever he says something it often comes true, born into existence from his drive.

“ that is something I believe. “ you reply, your voice dulling ever so slightly in octaves.

A mighty stone wall had once been John, any attempt to get to know him proved a punishing task. Though, when a crack had become apparent it became obvious that a gentle touch had been a foreign concept for him but when he’d accepted it as real? The taste of what life could transform into made him want more, to open the door he’d never once entertained of unlocking. John is incredibly grateful you’d never become frustrated and left as soon as you’d arrived in his life, refusing to want another life without your touch.

“ so, are we going to stand here all day or are we going to get in that car you adore so, so much? “

With the barest of groans escaping his throat, he reluctantly disentangles himself from your form, already missing the contact with you. Turning, you move with an energetic vigour buzzing in your toes ⏤ from your position you fail to realise John has himself glued to your form with an affectionate warmth pooling in his eyes. The corner of his eyes fondly crinkle ever so slightly at the view.

A forceful wind erupts in the car as it picks up, you can feel the pleasant freshness dance carelessly on your skin, tickling the strands of hair left loose. It feels like a dream you muse as you shift your gaze to John, really beginning to understand the butterflies that all these television shows and movies talk about as you take in the concentration forging itself into his features as his eyes never leave the road. You don’t believe in the idea of destiny, but you can’t help but note how it feels how the stars modified and aligned themselves for you.

Recently, the purchase of a polaroid camera had arrived on your doorstep and today would be the best opportunity to try it out!

“ they’ll leave me alone ⏤ “ he stops suddenly as he assures the unspoken question between you both. Can we live in peace? “ ⏤ us alone now. “

“ you’re sure? It sounds like a shady business, what if someone doesn’t take note? “ worry bleeds into your expression as your foot begins to tap nervously, with only a peek into another society it has left you concerned when John is involved.

“ one thing my world thrives on is rules. Codes. “ he assures you gently, aware of how the other side of the world lives out its gruesome fantasies in real life shocks you.

A heavy hand lays dormant on your leg, coarse fingertips only moving every so often to draw trails on your clothed skin, as if to discover a depth that lays hidden from view. Of course, you both know that John knows every inch of you as you know yourself, many nights spent burning the entirety of the other into your minds with only the moonlight acting as your guiding light.

“ well, I can say that’s good to hear. “ is said by you with a short bout of nervous laughter. “ you can be sure? “

“ you have nothing to worry about. “ he remarks with confidence, attempting to soothe any and all of your fears you have in regards to your situation you both now share.

“ okay, “ you say with a nod, trying to affirm yourself of there being no phantoms pursuing the man behind you from the shadows. “ I trust you, John. I’m just being silly. “

“ you’re not being silly, I understand. “

Silence overwhelms the confined space you share, you take in just the lack of pretence in this moment. Nothing felt between you is forced, an affection woven with a glistening thread so naturally that the bond had been shaped into your reality before either of you had even realised. All John knew was that the curious feeling would be strengthened would he follow his emotions, and that is exactly what he did. Gratitude leaves his heart feeling full at the choice, finally realising that he can settle into a life of normality. An adventure he has never once had but a glow radiates within him at being able to share it with you.

A salty fragrance slowly seeps into your sense of smell, the sounds of seagulls erupting in the distance as you realise just where John is driving you. The chance, living in a city, to go to the beach is scarce thanks to the distance, so you can feel a childish elation swell deep inside of you. Running on this emotion, you pull out the camera held safely in the confines of your bag. Turning it around and shifting your body so suddenly you poke your tongue out and a brief, blinding flash of light erupts before disappearing from existence as soon as it came.

“ oh, now this is a good one! “ you cheer as your lips curve so smoothly into a satisfied grin as you gaze upon the small print held between your fingers.

John says nothing, only knowing of his amusement through the abrupt laughter and warmth blazing so intensely in his eyes.

“ you’ll have to put those into an album or something. “

“ that’s actually a good idea, or a scrapbook? “ you ask with the idea brightening your entire expression. “ documenting this notable day! “

“ yeah, exactly. “ he agrees, a short laugh is shared with you in response. In awe at your naivety, once he’d been envious of the trait ⏤ because you’d never have seen the things he has, but he understands it now. Neither of you can help what you were born into, but he can have control over the person he becomes and that does not include harbouring resentment over something so trivial. The idea seems so foolish now, as it has become something he has grown to adore.

The two of you exit the vehicle, effortlessly your hands find each other through the lengthy space to the other's warmth in yours. John is unable to stop himself from admiring facile peace that clouds your features as you stare upon the limitless majesty of which the deep richness of the blue of the ocean expands way beyond what the eye can distinguish. There’s no worry nor emotional strain colouring itself into burdening your relaxed features.

Your fingers get to work photographing the scene before you, wanting not to document the beauty before you itself but rather the sentiment that dominates the moment with a heavy hand that you’d dare not maneuver away.

From behind you can feel arms encapsulate you against his chest as he parts his lips, as if to say something, mutter some romantic words but he stops immediately. His being wanting to fully submerge himself in a feeling of being enveloped by the serenity. Right now, it’s just you in each other’s company with nothing of the outside world being able to scratch and claw at your attention. He can finally allow himself to be lost in something good, someone who does not see him as a monster, no matter how many atrocities have occurred by his hands. God forbid any ghastly spirits should try to end the dream of this life, he would go to the ends of the Earth to shroud you from any harm from the shadiness he once delved into.

He leaves a flutter of sweet kisses on the crown of your head, you allow a nonchalant smile to illuminate your lips, a soft giggle at the action hovers between you both. John moves his grip to release your waist from his hold, a slow movement towards the bulky camera that lays safe in your grasp. He steps back with a gentleness that he’d never imagined could be contained within his form, and lifts the lens up to his awaiting gaze. You turn just as he lays pressure onto the button, a flash greeting you as you do ⏤ you’re caught off guard, his favourite version of you.

“ come on, John! “ you complain, fingers move to fuss with the loose ends of your hair played with by the tempestuous winds.

“ I couldn’t resist, I’m sorry. “ he apologises with an accompanying smirk, fondly eyeing the photograph of you being caught unaware.

“ it better look good. “ a warning falls from your lips, of course, it’s an empty one ⏤ you wouldn’t spit any venom his way over something so inconsequential.

“ you always look perfect to me. “

With a flood of tenderness and devotion filling your vision, hands inch higher and higher as they snake up the chest of John ⏤ he knows the movement well, a permanent muscle memory that brings him closer to your lips. The touch is so faint, almost feather like, this kiss lacking the pleading need and instinctive desire from his direction ⏤ instead, this one he takes comfort in your presence. He knows you both now have all the time to get lost in one another.

“ you think you can get around me easily? “ you question him swiftly, a good natured air of audacity sparkles in your gaze as you stare up to the tall man.

“ I know I can. “ John promises, already missing the lingering touch you leave behind like a tattoo on his mouth.

“ you sound so sure.. “ you remark, an amused tone coats your words heavily in its substance as your fingertips trace nonexistent patterns in the back of his neck.

John fights himself to prevent a groan of pleasure at the action from clawing its way free from him, already feeling himself melting into your form. He’s surprised you’re not one person.

“ Because I am. “ he states, a lone nod accompanies the action before he descends once more, itching to feel the silk of your lips on his once more on his.

Lifting the camera up at a slant, the crashing of the waves drowns out the click of the camera, he takes out the physical memory of this period of tranquility and adoration. You take it from him, your sight examining the image before you. If you’d had doubts before, you would no longer ⏤ a permanent reminder in picture form of the intimacy and care you share equally.

This is a day to remember.

“ I guess you’re correct. “

[halfway-happyyy]

This piece was inspired by this lovely ask that I received an inexplicably long time ago: Seeing an intense and loving sex scene Alex just shot and it lowkey breaks your heart but you don’t show anything bc you don’t want him to get the wrong idea and think you don’t support him but he can tell you’re upset and now /his/ heart breaks bc he can tell you try SO hard not to break down in front of him all day long so he confronts you about it and you tell him everything and that you’re not angry just very sad and you can’t help it and you’re sorry and he shushes you and sweet sex ensues

fluffy smut ensues- enjoy, friends.

“Hi love,” A crewman on Alexander’s latest film, and the first friendly face she had come across since arriving on set, wrapped a free arm around her shoulder and kissed her cheek lovingly. “Alright?” He asked.

“Alright,” She smiled and set her purse down by her feet. “How’ve you been Pete? Busy, I bet.”

Peter shrugged and removed the headset from his ears. “Absolutely. Always. You uh… chose an interesting day to visit us,” He remarked with a quirk of a wildly unkempt eyebrow.

“Oh?” She asked and craned above the heads of the scant crew in search of Alexander. “I was hoping to surprise him…”

Peter cleared his throat and cocked his head to the side, his expression uneasy. “They are about to film their second and final love scene of the shoot.”

She swallowed hard and settled back onto the balls of her feet, her heart thrumming wildly in her chest. Two options suddenly become apparent to her: she could cut and run; blame it on a forgotten zoom meeting, or a lunch date with an old friend in the same city. Alternatively, she could swallow back the nausea rising steadily in her throat and remain rooted to the spot. Both options left little room for pride and her cheeks flamed under that realization, and the burning set lights around her. “Oh, that’s alright.” She smiled, shyly.

“You sure?” Peter asked. “Georgia’s camp have asked for a closed set to maximize privacy, and the entire thing was choreographed this morning, so we’re hoping to squash it in as few takes a possible.”

She appreciated his honesty and the soft, protective tone of his voice immensely, but it did little to quell the nervousness that prickled at her unpleasantly. “Sounds great,” She muttered under her breath.

Someone called out to Peter and he rubbed a hand over the rounded curve of her shoulder, offered her up a reassuring smile. “In any regard, he has been waiting weeks to see you. Cannot stop talking about it. He’ll be over the moon that you’re here.” He offered her one last knowing look before wandering off in the direction of the disembodied voice.

She had known exactly what the script entailed before production on the film had even begun, so this could hardly have been a surprise, and yet inexplicably, she still felt blindsided by it.

She watched Alexander and his co-star enter the set, designed to look like a minimalist bedroom. Laughing and talking easily about something, as if they weren't just about to film a painfully intimate scene. Without warning, the lights around them dimmed almost to nil, and the film’s head spoke into a megaphone.

“Alright guys, here we go. We know what we’re about to be doing, we want total silence, let’s try and get this thing smashed in as few takes as possible, shall we?” A dismal murmur of agreement resounded throughout the crowd as the director counted down and shouted action.

She couldn’t make out what was being said between the two actors, but she watched them approach each other with a familiarity reserved only for two people who had grown to know each other in ways solely attributed to unforgiving hours on a movie set. She watched him approach her, watched a large, sure hand entwine itself into her golden tresses, watched him bend toward her, two pairs of lips locked in a dance only they knew. It was difficult to watch and not imagine the effect it was having on him, but a past conversation swam into her mind's eye, and aided in easing her trepidation the slightest bit.

“It's never how you think it's going to be kid,” He had assured over warming amber beers, in a quiet corner of their favourite pub a year ago. “It’s quite possibly the least sexy aspect of the job. And yes, it is intimate. How could it not be? But there are so many people watching you and- so many of them have differing opinions on how it should be performed…” He sighed, frustrated. “Once I know I'm doing one, I like to try and get it out of the way as soon as possible.” He read the uneasy look on her face like an open book and reached for her hand, squeezing it thrice across the marred wooden tabletop. “It's always been you, kid.”

As his co-star began to undress him, working deft fingers down the front buttons of his shirt, she pulled it away from his shoulders with an unreadable expression etched on her face. Towered above her, Alexander stood motionless as she worked the belt from his jeans, and shimmied the pants from his thighs until he was clad before her in only a pair of boxers. Unexpected laughter between the two of them. Light and airy and utterly unfamiliar, caused waves of nausea to swell in her belly and she forced herself a deep, steadying breath. A brief moment where the two kissed each other again, before he pulled away to begin removing her clothing. Anxiety getting the better of her, she dropped her gaze to the floor and bit down on the hollow of her cheek until she could taste the metallic brine of blood on her tongue. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply again, counting down from eight in her head and trying desperately not to spiral on the spot. When she opened them, it was to the realization that they had fallen into bed together, her slight form tucked in between Alexander's open legs like it was meant to be there since the beginning of everything. Though the actress appeared nude in every sense of the word, she knew better. A thin, flower-shaped piece of beige tape covered each nipple, and she sported a flimsy pair of nude-coloured underwear. Alexander had been no better- a simple, nude tube sock was the only thing shielding his manhood from her and everyone else in the room and the notion of it made her dizzy.

It was obvious now that they had choreographed this scene beforehand. Every kiss, every touch, every moan or groan was exactly how it was supposed to be. And the further she watched, the further her heart edged towards the precipice of shattering. So many emotions. She was surprised the most to feel anger; and not at all at him, but at herself. This was his job. His passion. Something that was as easy and instinctive to him as breathing. It was something that though he denied it staunchly, coursed through his blood and exited his body in waves of raw talent.

But watching him touch the undeniably beautiful woman beneath him in ways similar to how he touched her? And always in the privacy of their own home, shielded from view of anyone and everything else? Unimaginably difficult.

“Alright Georgia, I want you to kind of pepper Alex's chest with kisses as he thrusts once more against you, and as he does that, you are going to orgasm and then he is going to follow suit.”

They did exactly as they were told, and she watched in unbridled agony as the two of them tumbled over the proverbial edge, one right after the other. Sounds of their feigned lovemaking filled every square inch of room and very nearly caused her to leave right then and there. But then, mercifully, someone called cut, and the actress extricated herself from him and the torture ceased.

“Alright, that’s a wrap on today friends. Take care, we'll see you all in a couple of days.”

Releasing a lungful of pent-up air that felt like it had taken years to come to fruition, she watched Alexander wander off the set in search of clothing. Reaching down, she retrieved her purse and stole herself for her big reveal. He had asked her to visit him a couple of weeks ago, but their schedules had hardly meshed and it turned out that this was the only time until the end of the year that she could take her leave from work.

The weighty realization that she had never before needed to work up the courage to speak to him was not lost on her. But somehow, after the wildly pseudo-intimate event in which she had just been privy to- even surrounded by the skeleton crew, a knot of unease wound itself tight in the pit of her belly. It hindered her from approaching him directly, so she stood back while he finished speaking with a crew member, her gaze downcast, thoughts spiraling.

“Kid?”

Her nickname- one that had been bestowed upon her the night they first crossed paths, roused her from her anxious reverie and she offered him a meager smile. “Hi, Alex…”

He rushed toward her without hesitation, throwing his long arms around her in an embrace that her body had been craving for weeks. He smelled exactly how she had remembered leaving him, only with a subtle hint of something else- some other foreign flowery scent and instinctively, she reeled back from him, gaze weary.

“God, it's good to hold you again.” He pulled away from her to hold her at arm’s length; could sense the apprehension rolling from her in waves and he frowned. “Did you just get here?”

She swallowed the sizeable lump rising in her throat. “Uh, about an hour ago.”

Realization sunk in behind his eyes; she could see it in the way that the glitter in his blue orbs dulled, and he sighed heavily. “Kid- I had no idea you were coming-

“It was a surprise, Alex.”

He reached another arm around her, pressed his lips to the top of her head in a gentle kiss. “I'm over the moon about it, honestly.” He pulled back from her to caress a hand to her cheek. “I'm just going to grab a few things and then we can head out, okay?”

She could feel the biting sting of looming tears behind her eyes, the words too heavy in the hollow of her throat, so she offered him a nod instead.

Their journey home- a beautiful, rented apartment in West London had been quiet save for the cacophony of masses of passerby. Random pieces of conversations in a myriad of accents, music from someone’s portable sound system, all helped to distract her from the thoughts swirling in her brain. Sitting next to him on the tube, she could feel the familiar warmth radiating from him in waves, and that seemed to abate the anxiety somewhat. Large fingers clasped together on his lap; he was staring at something unseen on the subway floor. The urge to say anything had been palpable minutes ago, but when she went to open her mouth, the precise words eluded her.

“Our stop’s next, kid.”

He rose from the seat ahead of her, offering his hand which she accepted gratefully. As the train trundled to a halt, a voice boomed loud on the speaker above them, but she could not make out what was relayed and then the doors opened for them, fresh air greeting the pair of them like old friends. She had visited England enough times now to know the feeling of an imminent rainfall; the dense moisture that pervaded every square inch of space around them and made her long for a cozy sweater, or blanket.

They walked in silence for about five minutes before the wrought-iron railing of their apartment became visible, and another heap of invisible weight dissipated from her at the notion that she would be in the comfort and warmth of their own space soon. Alexander fit the key into the lock, and opened the door for them, allowed her to wander inside first. Arriving earlier that morning, she had tried to make the space as cozy as she could before she left for the film studio, knowing that he would be spending at least another two months there during post-production. Alexander tossed the keys onto the wooden shelf in the front foyer, kicking his beloved desert boots off with a dull thud. Peeling the blue and grey plaid coat from his body, he hung that up in the front closet and reached for the coat that she had just shed, doing the same. Eyeing her in the fragmented light filtering in through the stained-glass window at the top of the front door, his expression was unreadable.

“I think we should talk about earlier this afternoon, kid.”

Instinctively, she rubbed a hand over her bare arm to ward off the chill that had finally settled itself into her bones and shook her head. “It’s not necessary, Alex.”

He clicked his tongue, gave his head a slight shake. “Don’t do that, kid. It obviously upset you, and I don’t blame you for that at all, but we should talk about it.”

“What is there to talk about, Alex?” She asked, her tone regrettably biting. “What you do in the confines of a film studio- on set, that’s your job. None of it concerns me.”

He sighed heavily. “If I had known you were coming, I could have asked to postpone the scene for a few days…”

“You weren’t supposed to know I was coming. That was the whole point...” Sensing that she was treading treacherous waters, she tried to switch tactics. “I’m fried from the flight in, I haven’t eaten much at all today- all of which resulted in a grotesque culmination of emotions, and I’m over it now.”

She viewed his 6’4” figure stood in the front hallway before her, large hands tucked into the front pockets of his blue jeans. He was sporting socks that she had purchased him for Christmas last year and the mere sight of them caused the lump that had dissipated a while ago to resurface in the hollow of her throat.

“Please, just talk to me.”

Anger evaded his tone- it brimmed instead with a gentle desperation, the resonance of it caused her heart to splinter a little deeper than it already was.

Words thick at the back of her throat, she leveled her gaze with his. “It hurt, Alex.”  

There it was.

“It hurt to watch you be so intimate with someone else- to watch her touch you in ways reserved only for my hands, and my fingers, and my lips…” Flames fanned from anger and shame licked at her throat, and god damnit, she could feel the impending threat of tears again. Swallowing hard, she shrugged her shoulders. “And it sounds so much like jealousy but it’s not. It goes deeper than that,” She trailed off, voice breaking, as she lifted her gaze to Alexander’s. “I need you to know that I love you, and that I’ll support you in every single endeavor. But it just gets difficult sometimes…”

His cerulean gaze downcast, he chewed anxiously at the edge of his bottom lip as he mulled over what to say. When he finally glanced up at her, saltwater glittered in the depths of his own eyes and he allowed himself a deep breath before continuing. “I’m sorry, kid.”

She could hear the fragility in his voice now, how close it was to shattering completely and, in that moment, she launched herself into his arms. The urge to feel him on her, raw and utterly overwhelming. A secure arm around her waist, an impossibly warm hand at the back of her head, he held her to him like it was the last time he would ever have the opportunity. They stood embraced like that for an unknowable amount of time, and when he pulled away, it was to take hold of her hand and lead her down the hallway to the washroom. Once there, he flicked on the light which bathed the room in a pale-yellow glow and turned to her.

“Arms up,” He murmured, softly.

Doing as she was told, she raised her arms for him and held her breath as he pulled the t shirt from her body, tossing it into the wicker hamper next to the sink. He placed warm kisses over the delicate line of her collarbone, as he undid the zipper on her jeans and shimmied the useless material from her legs. She held onto his shoulders for support as he reached around her to unclasp her bra, letting the flimsy material fall to the glossy, tiled loor beneath them. Gentle lips kissed the soft skin of her shoulder blade as he hooked two fingers into the waistband of her panties and pulled them down her legs, which she kicked off to the side. Standing back, she watched him rid himself of his own clothing in unconcealed awe, her hungry gaze raking over the definition in his chest, and at the taut, sun-kissed skin that rippled over chiseled muscles. He never failed to take her breath away.

They entered the shower together; a violent shiver wracked her body as she waited for the water to turn hot. Watching him from the far wall, she suddenly wanted him. She could feel a strong desire in the pit of her belly- where anger recently burned red-hot there, it had been replaced with a sheer need to have every inch of him make up for the hollow emptiness she had felt hours earlier.

He dipped his head beneath the steaming stream of water and beckoned her toward him. “Come here, kid.”

She walked into his open arms, wrapped her own around his frame and nestled her head against the part of his chest where she could feel the rhythmic beating of his heart against her cheek. His embrace, and the blissfully warm water rolling down her back was a healing salve for her soul and she could feel her anxiety dissipate with each passing minute they stood there. He gathered the wet hair from her shoulder in his hand and dropped it behind her back to press a series of scorching kisses up the side of her neck to her earlobe. Reaching for the shampoo bottle on the ledge, he poured a heap of the opaque liquid into the palm of his hand and began to massage it into her hair with skilled fingers. He worked it into a lather and pulled her back under the water to rinse it out, the subtly perfumed suds cascading freely down her back. Next, he worked the conditioner into her hair, and while that sat, he poured bodywash onto a sponge and began to wash her with a delicacy she was rarely privy to. She held onto him for support as he passed the soft sponge over the sensitive parts of her body, beneath her arms, the hollow crooks in the back of her knees, the soles of her feet. When he was satisfied with his work, he pulled her back under the the warm water to rinse the soap from her body and the conditioner from her hair. She was contentedly sleepy under the steady warmth; her eyelids heavy as she watched him cleanse himself of the day in which they had both endured. When he was finished, he held her in his arms again. She could feel the familiar pressure of his erection against her thigh, how it swelled harder the longer they remained embraced.

“I want you, Alex.” She murmured, earnestly.

A deep inhalation, she could feel him nod against her. Guiding her out of the stream of water, he positioned her up against the heated stones of the shower wall. She braced her arms above her, could feel him line himself up at her soaking entrance. Placing tender kisses down the ridges of her spine, he paid special attention to certain spots on her back that nearly made her sing out for him. One final kiss, and he pushed himself inside of her, reveling in her all-consuming heat. Dropping his forehead to the middle of her back, he stayed where he was for a moment to give her time to adjust to his size.

This was what she had been after from the very beginning; the sensation of him buried to the hilt inside of her, the delicious fullness of him, nearly brought a fresh batch of tears to her eyes. “So good, Alex…” She gasped.

He nodded against her; all forms of speech eluded him as he pulled back from her all-encompassing heat only to re-enter at an agonizingly slow pace. He grasped onto her hips as he found a steady tempo for himself, his fingernails digging miniscule crescent moons in her soft flesh.

“God, I’ve missed this.” He groaned, breathlessly.

Freeing a hand from her hip to snake it down to her sex, he pressed a skilled fingertip into her swollen clit, rubbing tantalizing circles into it. She raked her bottom lip between her teeth and bit down on it to keep from crying out, causing Alexander to nip at the nape of her neck in mild disapproval.

“None of that, kid. I can tell how good I’m making you feel- but I want to hear it, and I certainly don’t want you to be quiet about it.” Always in constant awe of the sheer, physical affect that his words had on her body, she could feel the familiar unravelling of pressure in the pit of her belly and she arched her back against him to glean more pleasure. “Fuck, you feel amazing…”

A telltale sign of a man nearing the edge, his thrusts had started to grow sloppy, and she clenched around him to help spur his orgasm on.

“Fuck, Alex,” She warned in a hushed tone.

He groaned against her and applied harder pressure to her clit as she stilled against him, mouth parted and slack as a pleasure-induced white-hot lightning bolt coursed through her entire body. She imagined that she could feel it from the tips of her toes to the hair follicles on her head, and she trembled violently against him as her orgasm loomed tantalizingly out of reach.

“That’s it, baby…” He coaxed, gently. “Come all over this cock, hm?”

She froze against him, a single sound worked its way up her throat and exited her mouth in the form of a broken scream, as she tumbled over the edge, her orgasm immediate and intense. Clenching around his cock unintentionally as she unwound from her high, her muscle contractions caused him to drop his head to her back as he too began to unravel above her.

Fingernails marring the soft flesh of her hips and ribs, he stilled against her and with a strangled cry, came into her in thick, warm spurts. She had been after this sensation as well if she were honest. The satisfying feeling of being filled with every ounce of come he had to give her, could never be replicated. Peppering a couple more kisses to her damp back, he reluctantly pulled from away her to marvel at his come as it dripped from her core and slid down her inner thigh.

“Beautiful,” He murmured more to himself than to anyone else.

She stood where she was, braced against the wall for support while she tried to regulate her laboured breathing. Exiting the shower, she relieved herself, and wrapped a towel around her frame to dry off. Padding over to the expansive window adjacent to the made bed, she peered out over a darkening London. Raindrops raced each other in misshapen lines down the glass panes, and she found that she was grateful for the current weather. Alexander approached her from behind, wrapping her in his arms around her waist, chin resting easily in the crook of her shoulder blade.

“London is a lot more breathtaking with you in it.”

His stubble tickled her neck and she smiled to herself. “I bet you say that to all the pretty girls.”

A subtle grumble, he turned her around so that she was facing him. Still entirely naked, he held her chin gently between his thumb and forefinger. Her gaze traversed the cutting line of his jaw, his lips, his defined nose, his sparkling cerulean orbs which glittered brilliantly as he stared at her. No smile was offered up, but the delicate creases next to his eyes deepened as he spoke. “Just you, kid.”

He brushed the calloused pad of his thumb over her flushed cheek.

“Yesterday, today, tomorrow.”

[seventfics]

Autumn Birds

Written for @witcher-rarepair-summer-bingo

Prompt: We fell in love, but your previous lover reappeared/returned Relationships: Eskel/Jaskier (w/ past!Geralt/Eskel and past!Geralt/Jaskier) Rating: T Content Warnings: None Summary: They’d met just as the leaves were turning yellow. 

Read on AO3

* * *

They’d met just as the leaves were turning yellow.

Jaskier had heard of a witcher staying in town and, as was his prerogative since his acquaintance with a certain White Wolf, he’d ventured to see what the man was all about. It was not so often one got to meet someone of their caste. Why not have a little courage to break the ice himself?

The whispers spoke of a witcher with a terribly scarred face. Two swords strapped over his back, their pommels shaped into wolf heads. The women said he had a voice like a dog’s growl, so grave that when he spoke, it made children cry.

He thought that last bit was rather mean, and followed the trail of curses into a grimy tavern where a fight was about to break out.

“You promised fifty.”

“The best I can do is half.”

Jaskier’s hand freezes on the door. Whatever he’s come to doesn’t look good. The witcher’s back is to him, his padded shoulders raised with tension. The village’s alderman paces in front of him, fuming over a contract’s fee. There’s a few antsy people in the crowd too. The anger written on their faces makes him nervous.

He’s seen how this ends a dozen times. It’s gotten his own arse kicked butting into the middle of a witcher’s bargaining, actually.

“Now, now, gentlemen,” Jaskier interjects boisterously from the doorframe anyway. “This is no mood for drink and cheer. Calm your spirits with a little of the former—”

The alderman grumbles under his breath about merry idiots meddling in what they shouldn’t. “Shut up, bard. This here’s serious business. And I’m not about to be robbed by a witcher’s ridiculous high prize.”

“It’s not ridiculous. The contract says fifty, and,” the witcher stops to lift the bloody stump of a water hag’s head, “it’s already done.”

“That contract was up weeks ago. The reward’s gone down. You’re lucky half’s on the table at all.”

The witcher grunts—a familiar sound to Jaskier’s ears which translates to wordless annoyance—and drops the head on the floor. “You’re lucky the hag didn’t move closer into the village in that time.”

“Is that a threat?”

At the rising outrage in his tone, Jaskier slips closer to stare at the alderman over the witcher’s swordless shoulder. “Ah, I believe the witcher means more of your people would have died, had he not taken care of the problem so promptly. The reward hardly sounds like an unreasonable amount. I could get twice as much on a profitable eve of singing. In fact,” he flips to the witcher, who does not yet deign to look back at his unforeseen defender, “I could turn this place around and earn us both a decent share in one night. I’m no fop on the job!”

It’s then that the witcher looks towards him, but the bard only manages a quick glimpse of an incredulous set of eyebrows before the alderman starts shouting.

“Get out! Both of you! Out of my town or I’ll have the dogs chase you out!”

They both take that as their leave, Jaskier with a bit more speed in his jog.

At the outskirts the witcher turns fully, and at the sight of his whole face Jaskier almost gasps out loud. A long scar runs through his cheek, from eyebrow to jaw, and over his lips. It puckers the skin all around it, disfiguring half of his face.

Whatever caused that scar must have hurt a lot.

The witcher shifts in place, quiet for a long second as Jaskier does his best to hide his nerves. “I’m sorry to have involved you.”

“Oh, please, don’t be. I involved myself. Jaskier’s the name, by the way,” he introduces himself, hand extended in greeting.

The witcher scratches the back of his head. His lips twist to one side, bashful. One of his teeth peeks through the scarred tissue over his mouth. “Uh. Eskel.” He takes the offered hand and shakes it.

It’s the firmest handshake Jaskier has ever received.

“Well, Eskel. Are you short on coin? Because so am I.”

The snort he gets is—soft. Not at all like the gruff from before, with the alderman.

“I’m not doing too bad, I’d say. Just currently fifty short of what I expected to have at the end of the day.”

"How about I help with that? I wasn't lying when I said I could earn both a decent share, given the right crowd."

It's the sunset hour, and the leaves were falling on top of them. Everything is gold. The sky, the trees. Eskel’s eyes when they blink at him and he breaks into a genuine laugh.

Jaskier knows he’s a romantic. His heart flutters every odd day over strangers with pretty smiles. He’s just never seen such a shy, sweet smile on someone with such an intimidating facade.

Making him smile again became a personal quest.

* * *

At the next town over, Eskel speaks to the alderman there. This one is more reasonable at least, and up front about the sort of beast that lurks in the northern farms. Which brings up a whole new conversation as Jaskier doesn’t part from Eskel’s side despite the obvious danger.

Eskel grunts and sits him down, not unlike the times Geralt tried—and failed—to convince him to stay put. Jaskier just blinks his pretty blue eyes and says, “and how will I write a song of your prowess in battle if I am not there to witness it?”

“This is a dangerous contract, bard. It would be best if you let me handle it alone.”

“Oh no. No, no, I’ve heard that before a dozen times.”

Eskel pauses at that. “What?”

“I am perfectly capable of staying out of your way.”

The wyvern they encounter says otherwise.

To be fair, he had done a good job of staying out of the witcher’s way for most of the fight. It is only when the beast slams its tail into Eskel’s side on a backswing that Jaskier shouts in worry from his hiding place and brings undue attention to himself.

Wind whips around him for a split second, scattering dust into his eyes. It takes a moment to wipe them clean so of course he doesn’t see the great shadow flying at him. Doesn't realize the immediate need to hide or flee for his life until a giant claw snatches him by the bunched fabric on his back.

Jaskier's stomach plummets as he soars up. The ground recedes. His clothes start to rip. This is it, he panic-screams in his mind, this is his final day. Either as monster food or a blood splatter on a rock, his time has come.

A severe overreaction, and his own mistake for not trusting in a witcher's skill. He doesn't realize it in all, what with all his flailing about, but Eskel fires a crossbow bolt perfectly at the wyvern’s eye.

The beast screeches terribly loud in his ears. It flaps its wings once, twice, before twisting midair and letting him go.

They both fall, but Eskel catches him.

By the silence that follows after an earth-shaking crunch, he knows the witcher's won. Victory is not immediately on his mind, though. The way his sight spins and the sun paints a halo behind Eskel's hair, Jaskier dumbly thinks, oh—I've quite literally fallen in love.

“See?” he says instead, breathless with terror at almost having died, “I’m perfectly fine.”

Eskel raises a thick brow at him. And he's smiling too, the bard thinks. Could just be the scar making it look like a lopsided smile, but he wants to believe that he's made the witcher smile again with his foolish sense of humor.

“Are you alright? The tail,” Jaskier frets once his vision settles. Some of these monsters have poisoned stingers on the end of their tails. Are wyverns one of them?

But Eskel waves him down before he can consider the worst. “Relax. I cast Quen in time.”

“That’s a, uh, magic shield, right?”

Surprise colors Eskel's features. So it seems he's right. A point of pride on Jaskier's belt for remembering witcher signs.

Getting proof of a contract well done takes the witcher a good minute to collect. Wyvern skin is tough. The head would normally satisfy as proof, but it's too heavy to be lugging around town. He will have to make do with the wing tips. Should they question him, the remains aren't going anywhere.

“Come on, bard. Time to get our day's work done. And after that, we're going west.”

“'We'?” Something about the proclamation has his heart beating fast.

“'Course. I'm not letting you out of my sight now.”

He makes a show of bowing dramatically. “I wouldn’t want to be elsewhere.”

* * *

“You’re a friend of Geralt’s.”

Jaskier looks up from his notes.

Traveling with someone is always interesting—with a witcher even more so. So far he's learned that Eskel has far more routines than Geralt ever did, like counting his coin at the end of every week, and making sure he has two of every potion ready.

Jaskier quirks a half-smile. “I am. How did you figure? I never said his name.”

“Your song.” He points to the scribbled mess on his lap. “Or, I guess your work in progress. I see an expression he uses a lot, that he learned from me.”

“Oh?”

Eskel sits by him and nods, as if finally understanding Jaskier’s odd ease partnering with a witcher, and starts the story of where the expression in his handwriting originated from.

It’s funny at first, imagining a much younger, somehow more foolish Geralt together with this huge, frightening man who is not frightening at all to talk to. Eskel speaks so softly, so tenderhearted about the old memory—two boys, witchers-to-be, practically joined at the hip, making crude jokes. So he reciprocates with a tale of where he comes from, as destiny deigned to put them in each other’s paths.

As it happens, a lot of their first stories aren’t even their own, but Geralt’s.

And Eskel has many more over his. He’s more than happy to share them over camp.

Some of it leaves Jaskier’s throat aching. This is someone who clearly cares about his big grumpy friend. It's someone he can understand.

Then Eskel claps a bare hand on his back, his thumb and forefinger a hot press just under his nape, and oh, he’s more than a little foolishly in love actually, as his head is emptied of all reason at the small touch.

“Am I to become your travel bard,” Jaskier quips with an airy giggle. “I’m excellent entertainment at parties.”

“Not for long. It’s almost winter. Soon I’ll have to head north to meet my brothers.”

His heart sinks. “Oh.”

Eskel squeezes his shoulder with careful strength. “You better keep out of trouble while I’m gone, you hear?”

“Of course. I don’t go looking for trouble.”

“No, trouble just finds you.”

Well, if ‘trouble’ is a scarred, smirking witcher, he sure hopes that to be true.

* * *

They meet again when the trees are just beginning to color with spring blooms.

There is also a griffin tearing through the town's cattle, but that’s besides the point. Easily dealt with. Which is good, seeing as Jaskier had been near the scene and probably next on the menu. No one had told him about the griffin, so really. He's just as surprised to find Eskel as he is about the beast.

“You alright, bard?”

“I am now.”

Matter resolved, Jaskier walks in step next to Eskel. The town opens before them, welcoming the witcher not with smiles, but grudging gratitude.

“You sure? Trouble didn’t come knocking while I was gone?”

“Only a man with a lover’s grudge come to kick my ass out of a wonderfully luxurious establishment. Didn’t even get to enjoy the hot bath I paid for, which is such a terrible waste of hot water.”

A deep hum comes out of the witcher. “A lover’s grudge?”

“Just a past dalliance that won’t forget me.”

Eskel stops and shifts on his feet, like he wants to say something but he doesn’t know how to start.

Oh, witchers and their awkward conversation skills.

“You know what, I’m starving. I think a good, hearty meal is owed between us. What do you say we go collect your reward and we break fast at the alderman’s recommendation?”

“We don’t have to get the coin right now. I could go for some food.”

“First tavern we see then. Come on.”

Right as he says it, he wraps his arm around Eskel’s, and maybe he’s just being too obvious, too hopeful, but Eskel doesn’t shrug him off. They make their way to a large and welcoming tavern, him talking his head off about the barn smell that permeates the whole town and ignoring the dark looks people give them down the street, as Eskel listens, not a word coming from his mouth. It worries Jaskier a minute that he’s becoming more annoyance than the teasing meddler he wants to be. But Eskel is just scratching his chin, looking down and letting Jaskier lead.

When it becomes clear that Eskel doesn’t have any rented lodgings yet, Jaskier offers his own. “I’m sure the innkeeper won’t mind us bunking if we pay for two, at the end of our stay.”

Eskel doesn't say no. He also doesn't say yes. It takes them finally being settled in a table of their own, full of fruits, cheese and bread, neither of them taking the first bite to eat, for Jaskier to nervously ask, “What is it?”

“Nothing,” comes the too-quick response.

“If I overstepped in some way, please tell me.”

“It’s nothing like that, I—uh.” Eskel shakes his head, his expression scrunched up unpleasantly.

“Whatever it is, I won’t be offended.”

He's already writing a million apologies in his head for any of his imagined offenses, that he's not quite prepared for what Eskel says instead.

“You are...different from what I expected.”

Jaskier blinks. “How so?”

“I don’t know. You’re just. Human. You’re normal.” He makes a point of gesturing at the table, the people keeping their distance. “I don’t get why you do all this for me.”

It's slow-creeping, but once the pieces align, Jaskier starts to understand what he means. That confusion, he’s known it with Geralt. Why do you stick with me? What does a witcher have to offer a human that isn’t the service of a silver sword? What does a human want with a mutant when there are plenty of other ordinary, uncomplicated folk in the world to have for company?

“Because you’re a good man,” he tells the witcher gently. “Because you saved my life and I want to repay you in kind. Most reasonably of all, because we’re friends, and friends take care of each other.”

Of course there’s more to it than that, but if a friend is all Eskel wants, then a friend he shall be.

The rumble of the tavern fills the air as Eskel stares at him a little wide-eyed. Jaskier gives him a slight smile. As a close, he pushes the platter of cheese forward with an encouraging, “now eat your fill, my friend.”

Once Eskel returns his smile, he thinks that, well, that everything will turn out alright.

And they’re happy eating their food when Geralt shows up for the griffin that’s already dead.

At his distinct silhouette, Eskel stands up. “White Wolf.”

“Eskel,” Geralt calls back gravely.

They clasp arms and pat each other’s shoulders in sync. It might not seem like much to outsiders, but what a rare sight to behold—two witchers, two mirrored grins on both their faces.

Eskel is the first to part from the hug with a chiding, “You didn’t come for winter.”

“I know. I had a lot going on. Saw your handiwork hooked to your horse’s saddle.” Then he looks down, and spots Eskel's table company. “Jaskier?”

“Geralt.”

Their held eye-contact feels longer than it is. Looking away, Jaskier half expects the whole tavern to be staring at them, but as it turns out, no one cares to pay the witchers and their odd bard any attention now that the monster's been dealt with. It's just him, imagining his heart hanging out of his sleeve for everyone to judge.

And maybe Eskel senses something's up between them, because he leaves them with the excuse to collect his coin.

“I haven’t seen you in a while,” Jaskier says after Geralt takes Eskel's abandoned seat. “Have you really been so busy that you couldn’t let your friends know you were alive?”

Geralt's silence is its own answer—a little shame, a little remorse. He remembers how Eskel had said that as time went on, Geralt just, lost touch. There had been something heavy in Eskel’s eyes when he said it, and Jaskier had felt it in his soul. Now he understands why. Him and Eskel, they'd both gone through the same impossible task of loving someone who doesn’t believe he can be loved.

By gods, he still loves Geralt, but Geralt's heart is a rusty cage, and neither of them can coax the old bird that lives in it anymore. Soft words and gentle promises have run their course.

“So,” the witcher starts, “you and Eskel? Didn't know you knew each other.”

“Maybe if you’d met either of us during winter you would have heard.” The phrasing's rough, but there's no resentment in his voice. He would have liked to know that Geralt had been safe in his wintering home, with Eskel.

“Yeah. I’m...surprised.” Jaskier raises his brow at him. Which just earns a quick shake of Geralt’s head. “He doesn’t make friends easily.”

“Neither do you, and yet look at us.”

“Look at us,” he echoes, staring at the empty plates.

“We missed a lot of opportunities together, didn’t we?” It doesn't make the truth any easier to swallow, but acknowledging the what-could-have-beens has always made him feel better afterward. Like closing a book, and getting ready to open a new one. He hopes Geralt knows that there's no bridges destroyed between them. Only those missed moments.

He still very much cares for Geralt, and he knows that Geralt does as well. They just have to come to terms with what's over—and what might come next.

“I won’t lie to you,” Jaskier adds more seriously. “I don’t want to miss any opportunities with him.”

The 'him' in question is unmistakable. Geralt nods. He looks down, one end of his mouth drawing up to dimple his cheek.

He says, like an olive branch offering, “His favorite flower is yarrow. Not because they’re pretty, but because they’re useful in the most surprising ways.”

* * * 

They spend the day catching up, all three of them, before Geralt is on the road again, taking his own path. Jaskier sees how it brightens Eskel’s spirits to have seen him off, and cheers up twofold. 

“I’ve known him practically my whole life,” Eskel tells him.

“I’ve known him half of mine.”

“So you understand.”

“That he’s a prat? Oh yes. Good at heart, backwards about verbalizing it. Cheeky when he wants to be. Oh by the way, here.”

From out of his little travel bag, Jaskier pulls a swathe of yarrows.

“Saw some at market street,” he explains, presenting them. “Thought you might find use in them for your potions.”

Eskel turns to him, his bright witcher eyes bouncing between him and the yarrows. Jaskier feels his heart climb up his throat, wondering what runs through Eskel's mind that makes him pause for so long.

Then Eskel takes them with one hand and with the other, he touches Jaskier’s face. It's big, warm, calloused against his skin. And sudden.

“‘Cheeky when he wants to be’, right?”

Jaskier stutters to say, “Well, yes, I mean, but this isn’t about him—”

He forgets how to speak after Eskel kisses him. It’s the lightest peck on the corner of his lips, so light that once he draws back, he wonders if he's not still dreaming back in their rented room.

“Thank you. I know just what to use them for.”

The yarrow gets tucked away with the other herbs in Eskel's saddlebag. A few glasses clink together as he moves things around so they don’t get crushed. And then, as Jaskier stands there, stupefied and slack-jawed, Eskel mounts his steed, a soot-black beauty that neighs softly at Jaskier’s face.

“Where are you headed for now?”

“Nowhere. Anywhere.” Wherever you’ll go, he thinks to himself. Wherever you'll have me.

Eskel grins wide at him, and it's the most beautiful sight, his smile, with all his teeth gleaming.

“That sounds like trouble.”

[silverwhiteraven]

Beauty and Self-Expression in Wing Culture

So it's like 3am as I start to write this, and instead of sleeping at 2am I was thinking about the Wing AU I've been seeing for Miraculous Ladybug, courtesy of these three lovelies: @justaferal-bastard @thechatsmeow @tizzymcwizzy

[Warning: I got carried away and this goes from analysis, to idea, and then into a short fic-snippet.]

Actual Warning: It gets kinda, like, minor-angst about how the idea works?? More of a potential hurt/comfort at the end, IDK? But it has character growth! We stan Adrien rebellion against Gabriel! And healthy use of beauty products!

Anyways!!!

I love AUs like this that are saying 'What if Idea! What if apply Idea to World!' And then there's me, who likes to say 'Yes, yes! Now lets take World, and apply it to Idea.' And this is what happens.

So I was having some thoughts and things about Adrien and his wings, ya know? The wings are always tucked in close to back, always straight up, always prim and proper and stoic, as his Father and social economic class dictates. It puts people off at first because wings are one of the first things you see, one of the first things you subconsciously assess and judge and take into account. But to anyone who actually looks at the rest of him and stays around him and pays attention to him notice, there's a clear disconnect between how he holds his wings and how his actual personality is. It becomes obvious that his wings are like that from years of following a rule of conduct given to him, and a lot of birdie-see-birdie-do behavior of being around his own family and the Bourgeois.

Basically, wings, too, are subjected to self-images and self-expression. People of higher classes use their wings to show their class, power, and wealth; 'I don't fly' is basically 'I don't have to work for what I want'. Lower classes do that sort of thing less and less, and their wings are used more freely to express the self; not just free in actual movement, but with decorations as well, with things like feather-dyes, jewelry, and fake/decorative feathers and down to make themselves more unique and more like themselves.

Then I thought, well, what else? What about cultural beauty standards?

Well wing-types likely will be subjected to this, much like body-types. Already certain wings already have inherent uses. Falcon-like wings for speed, goose wings capable of long distances, hummingbird's for agility; all these physical traits that may or may not even match up with the main body that on its own also gets told has types meant for certain activities (tall people and basketball anybody?). Imagine all those wings that are colored and shaped like those of Birds of Paradise, though, swoon. But those weren't the thoughts I had.

My thought was the techniques in which beauty standards are met and maintained. Physical things that alter the looks. For the normal body, we have things like paddings, corsets, binders, and lifestyles, too, like dieting and working out. Extremes can even go to surgery.

So here was the specific thought I had about Adrien:

Wing-Binding.

Using unseen binds like netting, straps, or even cords, hidden underneath the feathers and down, to hold the wings in place and in whatever form is wanting to be presented.

Everyone should know that long-term and over-use of anything that restricts the body is unhealthy and can cause damage, even permanently. And I imagine Adrien has been modelling since he was small, too, so he would have been subjectes to it since before he even knew what it was, what it could do. Before he could comprehend what was happening and give consent to it.

Shealtered and with all his social and media intake controlled, he would have no clue that these are things he should be allowed to not do. And, sorry to anyone who liked the picture-perfect Mother Image Adrien paints of Emilie, but just like with him not being allowed to go to school or socialize outside of Chloé, or having to work a job and take unwanted extracurricular lessons and activities, Mama Agreste, at the very least, enabled Gabriel to doing something such as Wing-Binding to their unconsenting amd still-growing child.

Given! It isn't absolute in how bad it is, he can remove them for physical activities like P.E. and Fencing, or when photo shoots are doing Wing-Fashion, and when he's at home, too, but still, all that time in public having to use them because his Father says so sucks, a lot.

And again, the damage it could cause, both to his wings as they grow, not being allowed to stretch and strengthen, but also to the feathers, having to grow past and rub and push against what's holding them or sitting below.

It's kinda heartbreaking thinking how lovely he looks but just how much getting to that pleasing image might have just crippled him.

And then I thought about Chat Noir.

Chat, with wings free to move as he pleases, free to droop and drag, free to stretch and feel the wind, free to puff up and shield another.

And when he stretches those wings, be they magically dyed a new color or made bigger, they now have an emphasis on the burden they bear outside of the magic.

The feathers once unseen when tucked are now out and bare, spread out as he makes himself look bigger while he hisses and intimidates an Akuma. Everyone can see how the edges of his feathers are jagged and don't smooth out, some of the shafts are crooked or even broke, and as he beats his wings, they swear some will simply come out, from the quil and all, and disintegrate before they even touch the ground.

Ladybug asks him about it, and he grins and shrugs, "Probably a stylistic choice on my Kwami's part; they aren't actually that bad when I'm out of the suit."

"Mon gryffon," she calls his attention to her with one of her nicknames, a serious and sad look in her eyes. "Not that bad is still bad. Why are they like that?"

"Bindings kinda chaff sometimes, I think the suit just makes it look really bad," he answers, but he doesn't understand, why is she looking at him like that? A little bit of it clicks. "I thought most did it?"

She shakes her head, spreading her own, beautiful wings to him, and he can't help but reach out and run his claws gently through them. Her's don't show the signs of the Wing-Bindings his do. His head snaps to look down to the Parisians on the streets and those above them in the air, looking for signs of his own condition in the open wings. His heart beats hard and it almost hurts as another piece clicks.

"No, Chat Noir," Ladybug answers softly, "that isn't normal... Whoever makes you use those, they shouldn't have. No one still growing their wings should ever use those, ever."

He nods in understanding. His grin, long gone, comes back as he whipes away the tears that has built and he holds out a hand to his partner. "Care for one last fly before we part ways? I think I still need the practice." Especially since I've never flown outside of the suit, and I don't think I'll get a chance to yet, either, goes left unsaid.

But sometimes realizations like this are a part of the recovery. Chat Noir flies with his Lady, and thinks about how Adrien is going to tell his Father he won't wear the Wing-Bindings again, or at least about how to hide the future fact that he got rid of them all so that he can't anyways. He thinks about how he's going to practice flying, maybe ask Marinette for tips.

Chat Noir, the Gryffon of Paris, adds a new determination for the future, alongside winning Ladybug's heart and defeating Hawkmoth: Let his wings be free, and heal, because he'll be damned if he lets Chat Noir be the only time he ever flies, and, once his role as the Black Cat is over, with no suit to aid him, he will simply burn his Father's company to the ground if he never gets to fly again because of what Gabriel had done.

Anyways!! That was the thoughts I was having, it's 4:30am and I hope y'all really like, uh, whatever this is!!!!

[hopelessly-me]

I wish you would write a fic where Clint is extremely competent in a surprising skill (and seduces [your choice] in spite of it, because of it, or with it).

Hi anon! =) This skill may not be overly surprising, at least it wasn’t to me, but it was to Bucky. I hope you enjoy. (word count 1472)

In his defense, Bucky did not purposely break things in his home- he had just bought a rundown condo that needed a lot of repairs that he kinda knew about when he bought it but hadn’t thought much of it because he had gone with the idea that maybe it wouldn’t happen right away. He had been wrong. So very wrong. Ever since he bought the space, it seemed like every week something was happening and Bucky just- he didn’t have the energy to deal with it. Hydra never deemed home repairs to be a necessary skill for their assassin, so Bucky hadn’t even learned the basics, but he was trying.

But… the try part took a back seat the first time Steve had suggested that he call Clint. Bucky grumbled about it- he was used to watching Clint do all sorts of things the wrong way. When you work with a guy that leaps out of buildings like it’s a fun game to chance, you kind of assume that person’s an idiot. A skilled idiot, sure, but an idiot. And how many times had Bucky watched Clint fumble his way through competency testing at SHIELD? Or the time he got smacked in the face, not once, but twice, by a robot he was supposed to be dodging? Bucky hadn’t bought the lack of caffeine mumbling, and blamed it on the fact that Clint Barton was 100% a disaster.

But Steve swore Clint was the guy to call for help so he did. It was better to have someone he knew in his space instead of calling and asking for the name of a repair man so he could do a background check two weeks deep before his dishwasher could be fixed. Within an hour Clint had shown up at Bucky’s condo, carrying a duffle bag with him. After a short greeting, Clint went to the kitchen and went to work. 

And honestly- it was something. That extreme focus he got on missions was the same as when he worked on anything. Dishwasher, ceiling fan, the bathroom when the plumbing seemed to be a problem. Anything Bucky called him about, Clint seemed to know exactly what he was doing. If it was an easier fix, Bucky and Clint would chat about whatever came up, and usually Clint was the one who started it. If it was harder, Bucky stood off to the side in case he needed help with something but otherwise he watched him work and wonder just how Clint got good at all of this.

But this? This was almost too much. Bucky was seated and watching Clint as he worked on the electrical in the laundry room. He had started by checking the obvious things first, the plug, the outlet, the cords in the room. With a sigh he asked if he could take down the wall because he was positive that it was something in the back, likely a short wire. Without any reluctance, Bucky agreed, and Clint went to work. Now he was standing on a step ladder, working on something above his head, his shirt riding up, or his pants riding low, Bucky couldn’t tell and he didn’t care. All he cared about was the fact that Clint’s arms were in motion, which had always been hypnotizing enough, but now he got to see abs and he wasn’t sure he was going to make it through this session.

“You should let me just tear this place apart and start new,” Clint commented.

“What?” Bucky asked.

“Yeah. I mean. You can afford it, we both know it,” Clint answered, shoving some line through a hole he had made to where the breaker was, a new wire he had to attach him. “This place is really outdated with the electrical and the plumbing. Nothing that will start a fire yet but… I know how to do the fixes this place needs. I can run it cheaper than other renovators. And what I don’t know I can figure out with some books and youtube videos. I mean, it’s how I learned most of this stuff anyway.”

“How… long would something like that take?” Bucky asked, because if that meant more time with Clint like this he was pretty sure he was ready to sign up.

Clint looked over and flashed him one of his bright and snarky smiles. “Tired of hanging out with me already?” he asked, teasing before he looked back at his work.

“No. But if you do all that work, I’m going to have to pay you,” Bucky pointed out.

“Uh- no? I mean, I can’t always be here working on it, but I can plan on doing the hard stuff for a few days in a row that way if I have to leave for a mission you have a mostly functional space, just a little torn up.” Clint stepped down from the ladder and walked over to his tool bag, digging through it before pulling out a tag and a pen, writing on it. “But you don’t have to pay me.”

“What about… in pizza and coffee?” 

Clint looked up from the tag and grinned. “The way into my heart,” he replied before he turned and climbed back onto the ladder, back to his abs showing and yeah, it was definitely the shirt riding up Bucky decided. “Just think about it, alright? It would take me a couple of weeks, but I can get this place in tiptop shape so you aren’t having one emergency after another.”

“Maybe I like having the emergencies,” Bucky said before he could give it much thought. 

The moment the words processed in his head, alarms started to sound. It was toeing the line of flirting, or maybe possibly suggesting that he liked having Clint around, and maybe more. Clint wasn’t exactly stupid, he could see through Bucky’s game right? But he was also oblivious, so maybe he hadn’t.

This time, Clint paused and looked over questioningly. Bucky put on his confident smile, the one he had learned back when he was a kid, back when he knew he could fake his confidence with the right look. The problem was- Clint had that annoying ability to read people and see through the masks. The problem was, Bucky was sure Clint could see through this one.

And then he smiled that bright smile, and chuckled before he looked back at his work, muttering something inaudible under his breath. Whether he saw through it or not was lost on Bucky now since Clint hadn’t made a comment. But something was there in that look, Bucky could swear he saw… was it hope? Shyness? A bit of awkwardness? Maybe it was Bucky putting his feelings into the situation, but he thought maybe it was a dare- almost begging him to say something more.

Bucky was frozen for a moment, watching as Clint hopped off the ladder and moved to where the electrical outlet was, whistling as he worked. He watched the way his body swayed a little to whatever song it was being whistled into existence, and wanted to move closer to watch as his fingers worked carefully at securing the wire in it’s spot. He wanted to know if he was right that Clint was just daring him to take it a step further while being terrified to learn the results.

“Fuck it,” Bucky said as he got up.

“Fuck what?” Clint asked innocently.

Bucky had taken a few steps by the time Clint had turned around. Bucky got into his space, bracing his hands on the wall on either side of Clint, and kissed him, surprised when it was reciprocated. But it was short lived before Clint leaned away, raising an eyebrow, his lips pulling up into a smile that he would get before he would start laughing.

“What?” Bucky asked.

“Screw.”

“What?”

“I made a funny joke in my head about being screwed,” Clint said, holding up his screwdriver. “And then I dropped the screw for the outlet panel and I can’t-”

“... you are fucking kidding, right?” Clint let out that laugh and shook his head, his whole face lighting up as it scrunched. For a moment, Bucky thought about punching him. But that joy on Clint’s face made the thought fizzle out and he couldn’t help but feel fondly exasperated. “You’re the worst,” he said, unable to hold back his smile when Clint’s eyes opened and locked onto his.

“I am,” Clint confirmed. “We can maybe try it again after you buy me pizza?”

Bucky nodded slowly. “Maybe after pizza,” he agreed. “And you grab that screw.”

“That’s after the third date,” Clint replied with a wink, laughing even louder than before when Bucky’s face heated up. “You are so going to regret you kissed me.”

“Challenge accepted.”

[hearts-hunger]

aay’han mar’eyce (bittersweet discovery): chapter two || din djarin x reader

Read on AO3 || Masterlist

chapter one

Series Summary: In search of the Jedi you’ve been tasked to find, you and Din wrestle with the bittersweet discovery of your little one’s past and destined future. || Part Three of Jate’kara (Lucky Stars)

Chapter Summary: A forest planet with no forests, a Magistrate with the city pinned under her thumb, and a commission to kill the Jedi you were looking for. Yep, sounds about right for you and Din.

Pairings: Din Djarin x Wife!Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Angst | Word Count: 4.3k

Warnings: Mentions of canon-typical violence

A/N: In my humble opinion, this chapter is light years better than the first one. Basically Din being a big strong gentle protective husband, love that for him. I hope you like it! ♡

The walls of the city were every bit as bleak as the landscape they jutted up from. Dirty grey stone was topped by a bell tower and a pair of soldiers, their breather masks dark with a thin, horizontal visor. They turned to each other as you approached from the edge of the forest, and their conversation was clipped and modulated through their vocoders.

“What do you think, cyar’ika?” Din asked, his voice low. “Should I start wearing a mask like that?”

You looked up at him, confused by the question. “No. I like your mask the way it is.”

He gave a soft chuckle. “I know,” he said. “I was kidding.”

“Oh,” you said, feeling a little sheepish. He’d been trying to ease your obvious tension with a little humor, and it had gone straight over your head.

He gently nudged his shoulder against yours. “Take a deep breath, cyare,” he said kindly. “We have nothing to hide.”

Nothing except a ship that was flagged by New Republic records, a stolen asset of the Imperial warlords, and the man who was wanted for both transgressions. You couldn’t help a wry smile and knew he was smiling back at you under the helm.

As you approached the gate, a third, maskless soldier appeared to stand in front of the wide, oddly-shaped bell that topped the tower. He peered down at you through the gloom and took in your small party as you came to a stop.

“State your business,” he called down.

Din kept his posture intentionally relaxed. “Been tracking for a few days,” he said. “Looking for a layover.”

The soldier raised a brow. “Nice armor.”

You husband didn’t offer a comment, though you weren’t sure what the soldier had been expecting in response. The soldier looked from Din to you, and then to the baby in your arms.

“You a hunter, then?” he asked. You heard the suspicion in his tone; bounty hunters, especially Mandalorians, were usually lone wolves. To travel in such vulnerable company was unheard of for someone who made their living in violence. 

Din wasn’t shaken; he didn’t owe anyone an explanation. “That’s right.”

“Guild?”

You schooled your expression and fought the temptation to cast a nervous glance at your husband. Though he wasn’t wanted by the Guild any more, thanks to Greef, Din still hadn’t been reinstated. Thankfully he was a much better liar than you were, by virtue of his helmet and extensive practice, and kept his tone neutral. 

“Last I checked,” he said. Hopefully this soldier wouldn’t feel the need to make sure.

One of the masked soldiers said something, and the soldier you’d been speaking to gave the order to open the gate. You released a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding - it had been a long time since you'd accompanied Din on a hunt, and you had never been as good as he was at keeping your nerves in check. He briefly took your hand in his own and gave it a quick, comforting squeeze.

The city was no more welcoming than the scorched forest, and you stayed close by your husband’s side as he led you through the thoroughfare. He stood tall and walked with intention, and you were better able to calm the unease that plagued you as you drew strength from his confidence and composure. Though he’d been nervous before, you knew he was in his element now; he’d honed his ability to bluff and intimidate for years, until it had become second nature. You caught curious and even hostile looks from citizens and soldiers alike, but no one approached you; a broad-shouldered Mandalorian clad head to toe in beskar was a strong deterrent to anyone looking for trouble.

If the state of the city was any indication, it seemed as though Calodan had trouble in spades. Masked soldiers marched through the city, boots tramping over broken cobblestones as they led people away from the main road. Anyone not accompanied by soldiers moved with caution and haste, looking over their shoulders and rushing indoors like something was after them. No one spoke - no friendly greetings were exchanged, no children played in the street. Broken-down droids wandered aimlessly with rusty joints and damaged vocabulators.

It seemed like an oppressive, desolate, dangerous place to live. If this is where Ahsoka Tano made her home, you would rather break your vow to the Armorer than leave your baby with her. You wouldn’t leave him here. You couldn’t.

Din went up the only vendor on the street, a silver-haired old woman who watched him with a wary gaze.

“Pardon me, vendor, have you heard of anyone - ”

She turned and ducked inside without a word, and Din cut himself off with a sigh. Your baby gave a little babble and reached out after her.

“Shh, my darling,” you said gently, offering your finger for him to hold. He wrapped his claws around it and gave you a questioning look.

You bit your lip. He wasn’t being naughty; he wasn’t even being loud, really. But he always drew attention anyway, and his curious little coos would only attract more unwanted gazes. You pressed a soft kiss to his head and he was content to snuggle close to you again, but not before you realized he had attracted the attention of two younglings in an alley a few paces away. An older man knelt in front of them; they looked at your baby with wide eyes.

Din took a step towards the man. “You there,” he said easily. “I need some information. I’m looking for someone.”

The man ushered the children away and straightened. 

“Please, do not speak to them,” he said firmly. “Or to any of us.”

You couldn't think why - surely they wouldn’t get in trouble for merely talking to you, and Din had shown no indication that he was looking for a fight.

Din sighed. “Look, I just need to know - ”

“The Magistrate wants to see you.”

You jumped at the warped, metallic voice so close behind you; you grabbed Din’s arm in panic and pulled yourself closer to him, pressing the baby safely between you. Din turned slowly, glancing at you to make sure you were alright before he turned his gaze to the masked soldiers that flanked you. Your hand trembled where it gripped the fabric of his flight suit; he briefly put his hand over yours and didn’t attempt to pry your fingers loose.

“It’s alright, cyare,” he said, softly enough that his modulator caught a little. You slowly let him go even though you wanted nothing more than to hold on tighter.

The soldiers waited for you to comply but seemed unwilling to act with any force if unprovoked. You guessed their presence alone must be enough to prompt obedience on the part of the townspeople, and wondered if anyone dared to question the bidding of the Magistrate. Your husband didn’t seem of any mind to, and he guided you back into the center of the street with a light touch on your back. 

You tried to get your heart to stop beating so wildly in your chest. Din wouldn’t let anything happen to you, you knew. The soldiers accompanied you down the remainder of the street until it stopped at another gate; prisoners were strung up in shock cages on either side, groaning and pleading for help as currents of white-hot electricity jolted through them.

So that was what happened to anyone who questioned the bidding of the Magistrate. You shielded your little one from seeing the gruesome display and avoided looking at it yourself, fervently trying not to think about how your family might meet a similar fate after your meeting. Your baby burrowed closer against your chest as you followed Din through the gate.

The doors behind you closed and left you in a holding area of sorts, and you felt a brief thrill of claustrophobia before the second set of doors parted to reveal a beautiful courtyard. The difference between it and the rest of the city was jarring: lush trees framed twin pools on either side of the walkway, and a woman in long robes gazed into the water as it lapped up against the stone.

“Come forward.” Her voice was calm, commanding. You and Din complied, watching as she kept her attention on the water.

“You are a Mandalorian?” she asked. She sprinkled something from a little golden bowl into the water, and the surface shimmered with ripples as something moved below.

“Yes,” Din said. You were thankful, despite everything, at how quickly his voice soothed you even when he wasn’t speaking to you. You concentrated on the feel of him beside you - steady, calm, solid. Like he’d reminded you to at the front gate, you took a deep breath.

The Magistrate didn't turn from the water. “I have a proposition that may interest you.”

You felt a your tension ease, but not by much. You may not have been called to a private audience to be imprisoned in a shock cage or sent out of the city, but the thought of making a deal with her still made you wary.

Din considered her. “My price is high,” he warned.

She looked up at you then, moving to the center of the walkway; she circled like a tusk-cat for a moment, sizing you up.

“This target is priceless,” she said finally. “A Jedi plagues me. I want you to kill her.”

Ahsoka Tano was battling with the Magistrate of the city? She was obviously powerful, if the soldiers had done so poor a job of dealing with her that the Magistrate was looking to enlist a bounty hunter’s help. But as skilled as Din was, he’d never fought a Jedi - you had been hoping he wouldn’t have to.

The magistrate looked at you, eyeing you and your baby with interest. You wanted to step behind Din and hide, but made yourself stay still.

“That’s a difficult task,” Din told her. 

She didn’t seem troubled. “One that you are well suited for,” she said. “The Jedi are the ancient enemy of Mandalore.”

Another reminder of the seemingly endless list of reasons why this whole venture was a bad idea - Jedi seemed to make enemies wherever they went. Though you supposed standing up to this Magistrate who kept her citizens in poverty and oppression indicated a moral code in the Jedi you were seeking, it still didn’t seem any way of life for one as little as your son.

If the Magistrate had expected to get a rise out of your husband with that comment, she was disappointed. “As I said, my price is high.”

She beckoned to the droid behind her, a guard who wielded a silver spear. You stiffened, and Din moved himself in front of you ever so slightly as she took the spear and slowly approached you.

“What do you make of this?” she asked. She offered the spear to your husband, and he cautiously moved to take it from her. You stayed where you were, your pulse thrumming a wary beat.

Din studied the spear, looking up its length and turning it over in his hands. Unlike the rest of the metal in the city, it caught the weak sunlight easily and shone like your husband’s armor. It looked at home in his hands; you knew it would be an impressive weapon if he were to use it. He raised his arm and brought the side of the spear down on his vambrace; it gave a clear, ringing tone at the contact like that of a temple bell.

“Beskar,” Din said. A weapon of that strength would be valuable to anyone, but its significance ran deeper to a Mandalorian. You wondered how he felt at the Magistrate owning something that rightfully belonged to his people, about her using it as leverage to get him to kill for her.

The Magistrate was no stranger to its significance. “Pure beskar,” she agreed. “Like your armor. Kill the Jedi, and it’s yours.”

Din handed the spear back to her. “Where do I find this Jedi?”

The Magistrate gave a self-satisfied smile, clearly thinking she had won him over to do her bidding.

“Last my scouts reported, she was deep in the forest southwest of the city,” she said. She looked over his shoulder at you. “Are you planning to take the girl and the little one with you?”

Was she suggesting he leave you here? You knew better than anyone that would only happen over your husband’s dead body.

Din held the Magistrate’s gaze.“Wherever I go, they go.”

She raised a brow. “Strange, for a Mandalorian to be attached to something so... fragile.”

You wished you felt braver under the scrutiny of her gaze and the sharpness of her observation. It was a sentiment you’d heard countless times since you and Din had started courting, and though you’d learned not to let it bother you as much, you still couldn’t ignore the truth of it. Mandalorians ran with other Mandalorians, not younglings and nervous things like you who had to be reminded to breathe. Din had never intentionally done anything to make you feel weak or less than - in fact, he did everything he could to teach you your own strength and bravery - but you knew it was a rare thing to find someone as good and kind as he was. 

Meeting the Magistrate’s gaze, you raised your chin, trying to muster some defiance; she gave you a small, derisive smile in return.

“My chief officer will lead you out of the city and give you the Jedi’s last known coordinates” she said to Din. “Come back when you have killed her, and I shall uphold my end of the bargain.”

The doors behind you groaned open, and it was only then that Din came back to you. You knew he was aware of every potential threat and prepared to protect you from them, but you still felt uneasy with your back to the Magistrate. He steadied you with a gentle touch to your arm, and your baby cooed up at his father as you returned through the gate.

The soldier who’d questioned you earlier was waiting for you; Din spoke to him briefly, getting the coordinates as promised, and put himself between you and the gaunt officer as you walked back to the front gate. Fog threaded through the jagged treeline and curled over the charred ground, and the greenish sun was sinking lower.

You baby gave a little babble, drawing the officer’s dubious gaze. You gave the officer a challenging look, daring him to say something - it was easier to do with Din between you than it would have been otherwise.

“What is that thing?” the officer finally asked.

You glared at him. Who did he think he was? Thing, indeed. You’d like to give him a piece of your mind. But before you could retort with a healthy dose of mama-bear indignation, Din stepped in.

“We keep it around for luck,” he said, with what you were sure was a withering look under the helmet.

The officer sized him up. “You’re gonna need it where you’re headed.”

Din didn’t offer a response. He put his hand on the small of your back and led you away from the city, towards the southwest; the baby looked over your shoulder and gave the officer a parting coo, social as always. Despite your nerves, you couldn’t help a small smile and nuzzled a kiss against your baby’s cheek. His soft giggle was comforting as the forest became denser, and you held onto the precious sound as you pressed closer to Din’s side.

“Your daddy says we only keep you around for luck,” you told your baby.

Din looked down at your little one and gently tapped his nose. “Maybe if your mama wouldn’t go picking a fight with the chief officer, I wouldn’t have to.”

You huffed. “I wasn’t the one picking a fight. He called our son a ‘thing’, Din. A thing.”

He gave an amused hum. “I know. But I didn’t want to have to explain to the Magistrate why her chief officer was beaten to death by your tiny fists.”

You gave a wry smile. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” You held your hand up in front of you and made a fist.

“They’re not that tiny.”

He took your hand in his, gently turning it this way and that in mock-seriousness until you laughed.

“Alright, fine,” you said. “They are tiny. Especially compared to yours.”

He chuckled and raised your knuckles to the bottom of his visor in a light kiss; you gave him a bashful smile back.

You walked the next few minutes in companionable silence, Din helping you through the obstacles the broken trees presented when you needed it. The forest wasn’t nice, by any estimation, but it was a good deal less stressful than the city had been. The baby could babble as much as he liked, and you were free to peruse your thoughts on how your situation had changed.

You hadn’t really known what to expect, but nothing that had happened so far seemed an indication that leaving your baby with Ahsoka Tano was a good idea. A forest planet with no forests, a Magistrate with the city pinned under her thumb, a commission to kill the Jedi you were looking for. Maybe you’d naively thought the Jedi would be a peaceful sort, that you’d be comfortable leaving your little one with someone kind who lived on a nice planet where he would be happy while he trained.

He cooed back at the deep lowing of some huge animal, and you hugged him close. No - even if everything had gone exactly as you wanted it to, you wouldn’t be comfortable leaving him. Just the thought of it made your whole body ache with grief. He was your baby, even if he was technically older than both you and Din. What sort of mother gave up her child like that, to a perfect stranger?

You didn’t realize how tensely you’d curled in on yourself, how closely you held your baby like someone would snatch him away at any moment; he gave a little babble of protest, and you tried to relax. You kissed his head. 

“Sorry, ad’ika,” you said quietly.

Din looked over at you. “You alright?” You knew from his tone he meant more than just physically, and you worried your bottom lip.

“You’re not going to kill her, are you?”

He held a low-hanging branch out of your way. “No, I’m not,” he said. “Even if I wasn’t looking for her, it wouldn’t be a noble kill. I don’t work for tyrants.”

You looked up at him. He was focused on making sure you were headed in the right direction, but you knew he would listen if you had more to say.

“How do you think the Magistrate got that spear?” you asked.

He shrugged. “I don't know. Maybe she had it made out of imperial beskar, or it might be an old Mandalorian weapon that fell into her hands somehow.”

You frowned. He didn’t seem that concerned about it, but you’d seen your husband willing to shoot first and ask questions later when it came to stolen Mandalorian armor. He’d nearly had a shootout with Cobb over it, and you didn’t understand his apathy towards the beskar spear.

“You don’t want it?” you pressed. 

He looked over at you. “Do you? Even if we have to pay for it in blood?”

You flinched. He’d said “we”, but you both knew he’d be the one with blood on his hands, and he’d had enough of that already to know what it cost. Stolen armor meant a dead Mandalorian - or worse, dar’manda,  someone who had willingly given up the Way. To bring it back where it rightfully belonged was a matter of the Mandalorian soul. A beskar spear was, in the end, just a spear; he’d get more than he bargained for, working for someone like the Magistrate for a mere weapon, and you both knew it.

You turned your head and didn’t look at him. “Sorry.”

He sighed. “No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I know that’s not what you meant.”

Neither of you said anything for a moment, this silence more tense than the last; without having to be asked, he offered you his hand to help you over a fallen tree in your path. You held his hand tighter than you really needed to, feeling a wave of relief and a little embarrassment when he kept his hand in yours even when you were safely on the other side.

“I really am sorry, Din,” you said quietly. “I didn’t mean to question your decision. I know you wouldn’t do something like that. Of course the spear isn’t worth it.”

He shook his head. "You don't have to apologize. I knew that wasn’t what you were saying, and I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that. Please forgive me.”

You took your hand from his, and his body language showed surprise only for a moment before you put your arm around his waist and pressed close to him. He relaxed and drew you close; he ran a soothing hand over your back, resting his helm against your head.

“I don’t like any of this,” you said, your voice muffled against his chest. Both of you were wound pretty tightly, and you hoped it wouldn't cause any more spats. Your baby reached out for his dad and Din offered him a finger to hold onto. 

Din sighed. “I know. I don’t like it either. But we’re already here - we might as well find her and see what she has to say.”

He ran his thumb over the baby’s hand. “She might not even want to train him. He’s still so little.”

Your baby cooed and cocked his head, and the mannerism reminded you so much of Din that you felt a rush of tears you couldn’t prepare for. You leaned further into Din’s steadiness and took a wobbly breath.

“Promise me we won’t - ” Your voice hitched. You looked up at him. “Promise me we won’t leave him with her if it’s not safe. If she’s not - kind to him. I can’t leave him with someone who doesn’t - ”

You stopped yourself before you said what you meant, someone who doesn’t love him. To leave him with someone who loved him was too much to hope for, even in the best of circumstances. You’d have to let him go at some point, you knew, but you almost couldn’t bear it and certainly refused to if he wasn’t going to be safe and happy.

Your husband rested his helm against your forehead. “I promise, cyar'ika.” You knew how much he meant it, and felt some of the tension bleed out of you as you stayed safely in his arms.

 You walked for a long time before you neared the coordinates the officer had given you, winding through the remains of what must have been a beautiful forest before it was destroyed. The city must have gotten some material use out of stripping the landscape bare, but it wouldn’t have surprised you if the Magistrate had ordered it just for the sake of inflicting further destruction. It stretched on for miles, this barren wasteland, and the skeletal remains were so tangled together that it was often difficult to get through.

You ducked under a heavy, fallen trunk, minding your head carefully - though you hadn’t been hurt yet, your usually composed husband had endured a comical amount of aggravations during your hike. His cloak snagged on every little thing, he’d smacked his helmet stepping under a fallen tree, and he’d tripped so dramatically over a hidden root that you’d had to hold onto him for support as you doubled over in deep, hearty laughter. He’d grumbled good-naturedly as he let you lean on his arm, and eventually he'd started laughing too. It worked wonders to ease your tension and fatigue, and your baby had giggled with you, delighted to see his parents so amused.

Now, though, Din’s posture had straightened a little more as the tracker on his vambrace gave a chime. He pulled the strap of his Amban rife over his head and held the weapon in a relaxed but ready position.

“Well, these are the coordinates,” he told you, walking forward as he scanned the area. “Keep your eyes open. We must be close.”

He tapped the side of his helmet to activate his HUD; you looked around, unsure if you’d be able to spot anything that was trying to hide with the sun sinking low and the fog creeping in.

A far-off sound, like a tree being snapped in two, made you jump; an unfriendly animal screech followed, and you closed the small distance between you and your husband.

“You hear that?” he asked.

You nodded, grabbing his arm just below his pauldron. He gave your hand a distracted pat, trying to comfort you and stay aware of your surroundings at the same time.

“Don’t worry,” he said. He nodded to a boulder lodged in a mass of tree roots to your right. “Stay right here. Let me see what’s out there.”

You did as he said, cradling your baby close and worrying your bottom lip as Din took the sight off his rifle. He used it to scan the mass of scraggly trees ahead; you looked that way too, though you didn't hope to see anything he wouldn’t.

His gaze snagged on something, and he relaxed. “False alarm,” he said. “It’s just - ”

A bright, loud hiss came from behind you; for a second, all you could make out was a brilliant white light. Moving on instinct, you shielded your baby with your body, the unmistakable sound of weapons hitting beskar ringing in your ears.

Read chapter three!

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[universal-imagines]

☾ behind the mask

fandom: my hero academia pairing: dabi x reader word count: 1.3k synopsis: first impressions aren’t always pleasant

a/n: i meant to post this on halloween but i was busy and couldn’t finish it in time, but please enjoy it now!

please do not use any of my works, in any shape or form, without permission.

Those turquoise eyes were so alluring and mesmerizing, coaxing you to keep your gaze fixated on the opposite side of the room. Anyone could have found themselves captivated by their charisma with a single glance. You know you did.

Even with the music booming loudly through the speakers, managing to make the windows vibrate with every obnoxious beat, and people pressing against you in an attempt to draw your attention, all you registered was that other singular presence. You were a moth entranced by the beauty of an open flame, torn between approaching and risking possible death or pulling away and be cursed with eternal curiosity.

But when the owner of those eyes turned abruptly towards you, you looked away instantly, startled by the sudden eye contact. Their icy gaze contrasted the wolfish smirk that pulled on their lips, a sight that would have most definitely brought you down on your knees if you'd caught even a glimpse.

Feeling the all too familiar warm and tingling sensation spread across your cheeks, you began a fast-paced walk over to the beverage table. Your only comfort was the masquerade mask you wore, shielding the embarrassment you experienced at being caught from any onlookers. However, you didn't feel at ease until you arrived at the table, confident you'd managed to lose those gorgeous blues in the crowd.

With a muted sigh, drowned out by the music and buzz of several ongoing conversations, you reached over to grab the last water bottle, but another's hand grabbed it first. The tips of your fingers had been less than a centimeter away, making it obvious you were aiming for the bottle, so you found yourself somewhat annoyed. 

While you weren't going to throw a tantrum or cause a scene, you were curious to see who'd pulled such a childish stunt. To your surprise, you once again met eyes with the man from before. His unexpected proximity caused your breath to catch in your throat, leaving you unable to speak and looking like a deer in headlights.

"Oh? Did you want this?" His voice cut through all the noise despite being low and hoarse, filling your stomach with a fluttering sensation and sending your heart into a frenzy. He even wiggled the bottle just out your reach in a teasing manner.

You still could not find your voice, the butterflies threatening to spill out from your throat, so you continued to stand there, dumbfounded. 

"Cute, but mute?" He shook his head, clicking his tongue in apparent disappointment. "What shall I do?" Slightly bowing his head so he could look at your from under his lashes, he placed his unoccupied hand on the nape of his neck, awaiting a response.

"I-I'm not mute," you finally managed. The stutter was from both nervousness and the dryness of your throat. You really did need that water.

"Pity, it could have been entertaining," he grinned. Unlike his previous teasing, this comment triggered a different reaction. Something inside you lurched in indescribable fear, in a sort of warning. That grin of his, instead of coming off as mischievous, it gave off a villainous intent. But you paid the red flags and metaphorical sirens no mind, too absorbed by the man's appeal to care.

"I should, um... apologize about earlier. Without noticing, I ended up staring at you while lost in thought..." Your voice no longer shook as you spoke, but you still lacked the confidence to make your lie credible.

"Oh?" He raised an eyebrow, the disbelief evident in his actions. "So, you didn't purposely stare at me?" 

You shook your head, thinking up the quickest and most reasonable excuse that came to mind in the second you had. "Haven't you ever found yourself staring off into space for an indefinite amount of time before realizing you'd been staring at someone during that time?"

"Ah," he nodded. "And here I was, thinking I might have found myself a lovely admirer."

You spluttered, unable to draw breath or form coherent words out of shock. "Aha... ha, no. As I said, I was distracted, totally accidental. Besides, how could I be admiring a person whose face I cannot see because of our masks? I don't know about you, but I need a little more than just a vague idea and a piercing gaze. Even though it's a beautiful mask, perfectly crafted to fit the shape of your face, it doesn't offer much else."

"We can easily remedy that," he smirked.

All the signs had shown themselves, one by one and each less subtle than the previous one. The devilish horns protruding from the mask, paired with that leering smile, should have been the biggest clue. If only you didn't find it so damn attractive.

"How so?" You titled your head in genuine curiosity.

Before replying, he placed the water bottle back down on the table, its purpose served, and turned on his heels to face the back exit. "Follow me," he called over his shoulder, already several steps ahead of you.

Like an obedient little lamb, you followed him outside, ignoring the gnawing feeling in your stomach that warned you not to. You were intrigued and, at this point, cared more about learning more about him than your safety.

Once both of you reached the secluded alley behind the building, he stopped and turned to you, slowly peeling off the mask to reveal his face.

A whirlwind of emotions overcame you. The butterflies you'd thought were gone began to flutter again, almost making you sick. Your heart started to beat a mile a minute; you could hear it pulsing in your ears, deafening you for a moment. This time it wasn't out of shyness, but dread and fear.

To your absolute horror, the man who stood in front of you was none other than the well-known mass murderer and villain, Dabi. A man best known for burning his victims alive and targeting those that don't live up to certain ideals, no matter how twisted they might be.

Every muscle in your body tensed out of fear, your breath caught in your throat again, forming a knot. Not to mention your eyes were wide in shock, unable to register anything other than the face you'd seen on the news multiple times.

"Don't worry. I don't make it a habit of targeting women." His smile, now sadistic in your eyes, pulled the corner of his lips upward.

"W-why?" You stammered out, your body shaking along with your voice.

"Why what?" His lidded eyes narrowed slightly.

"Why would you show me who you are?"

"Simple, because you sparked my interest. Not many people notice me when in a crowd, but you just couldn't keep your eyes off of me, could you?"

"I told you... I-I wasn't staring," you countered, taking a tentative step back if you could even call it that. It was more of a stagger. Why? Why did you have to go and stare at him, of all people?

"Please," a guttural laugh pushed past his lips. "You don't even buy that lie."

You took a sharp breath in, gathering up all your strength and courage to leave. "Well, you showed me, s-so I'll be on my way." You spoke just above a whisper, but you managed to move your feet and turn away. But to your dismay, a forceful grip on your wrist held you in place.

"And where do you think you're going?" He almost growled.

"Home?" You'd meant for it to come out as a statement, but it was more of a plea, knowing fully well your fate was up to him now.

"Not quite," he smiled. "You see, you might not be a target, but you certainly caught my eye, and in case you don't know, I get what I want."

please do not use any of my works, in any shape or form, without permission.