#im creasing i wondered why he was going to the bother of bringing his past monaco gp helmets in to the paddock every day

[raceweek]

lilymhe: here for the "crêpes" stayed for the points🥰🫶

[burnedbyshoto]

for want of a bento box

– It’s plain and simple, you see, someone is stealing your bento boxes and you will find your lunch thief! Or, in which Todoroki Shouto keeps taking your bento box and you declare war. 

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pairing: todoroki shouto x reader

warnings: fluff, cursing, shouto is a bad chef, I believe I made reader pretty gender neutral but I whipped this out in two hours and I can no longer remember if I used any fem!pronouns but im pretty sure I didn’t

word count: 3,060

a/n: this is for the wonder coworker bnharem collab! I had intended on writing a completely different theme and storyline but was very overwhelmed by how much time it actually needed to be written compared to the amount of time I actually had. that version will be out another time! but for now, enjoy some pure flufffffff!!!!

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Having a normal, functioning, well-paying job was probably the most desirable thing to you. It wasn’t to say that you were slacking or that you were homeless, broke, and never to be seen again because you were that in debt. But it was nice having a job!

When you entered the prestigious Toshinori Company, you joined not as an entry-level job employee but as a senior representative. You thought it was crazy.

It had to be crazy.

You had no prior experience, and now you were going to be in charge and the lead in certain areas?!

“And that was the entire layout of the office!” Mina chirped happily, throwing herself onto the desk chair across from yours with a big smile. “Any questions?”

“I don’t think so,” you mutter, brows creased as you look around the room again. 

The office space was ample, sleek, open. Each desk has its own grand computer that you currently could not afford with your own money, comfortable chairs, and beautiful wood desks. It was elegant, far superiorly fancy, and yet, you didn’t feel out of place. Strange.

“Oh!” you say with a roll of your eyes as you reach below your desk to bring up your packed lunch. “Where was the break room again? I need to refrigerate my food!”

“Omg, of course, come this way!” Mina grins, standing up and motioning you to follow her. You smile gratefully and do. 

The entire way to the office, Mina takes the time to point at the many different people on the floor and give them names. Everyone so far had sort of acknowledged you earlier as Mina was giving you the official tour. Some were much more open and friendly, and some had sneers or blank stares that left you dumbstruck. 

Definitely a personable group.

“Hm, well, I guess Todoroki-kun isn’t here today?” Mina mutters as you enter the break room that has couches and comfortable-looking chairs. “Such a shame! You would have loved to see the office hottie!”

You snort at that, lips curled into a granulous smile as you place your plastic container with food into the fridge. “I’m sure I’ll live,” you brush off the fact that there was an absent person on your floor today.

“That’s the thing, though,” Mina points a finger at you, a lone eyebrow raised and a confident smirk on her face. “You won’t be thinking that again the moment you see him!”

You laugh, eyes crinkling as Mina joins your laughter. Eventually, she motions for the both of you to leave, and you nod in understanding. And with a weird sense of comfort and belonging, you realized that this job was going to be good. 

.

.

Eventually, you had been working at Toshinori Company for two months.

Sixty-two days to be precise, and in all that time, you had only met Todoroki Shouto once. Even then, you had only seen the man walking through the office with a blank face, fingers in his pockets as two other men were walking in front of him, bickering lightly.

Had Mina not quite literally thrown herself across the table and gripped the collar of your shirt and twisted your head to look at him, you would have never caught a glimpse at the man with red and white hair. The three of them walked into the break room and came back out with their own lunches before leaving.

And that was it.

You had learned that the three of them (Todoroki Shouto, Midoriya Izuku, and Bakugou Katsuki) were within your department but worked very closely with the very high up members within the company. Many rumors pointed at one of the three taking over the company when the current CEO stepped down. They were, however, on the roster for your floor; they just never appeared except to pick up their lunches. Something they seemed to come to grab whenever you were a) way too fucking busy or b) not in the room.

You weren’t too bothered, though.

It wasn’t like you were trying to date one of them! You had only wanted to say hi.

.

.

.

Now, at ninety days, you had your first and probably most crucial evaluation. 

Toshinori Yagi, the man who founded and currently ran this company, sat before you, looking at papers within a folder with tired but kind blue eyes. He nodded, impressed (hopefully), making small comments about the work you had been able to accomplish, a smile becoming a warming grin as he looked up.

“I’m impressed by the performance you’ve managed to attend to despite the short while you’ve been here, y/l/n-shojo,” Toshinori spoke, his fingers threading together and placing them onto the table. “I knew it was an excellent decision to put you in that position, and you exceeded my entire expectation!”

You flushed at that, lips twitching as you attempted to suppress that smile of yours. 

“Thank you, Toshinori-san,” you practically wheeze as he waves off your thanks.

“No need to thank me, you’ve done all this work!” he laughs, tired eyes closing with a glorious supply of crow's feet blooming at the corner of his eyes. “Typically, at these evaluations, I ask a bunch of questions because there isn’t too much anyone can do in their first ninety days, I must admit.”

“Oh?”

“Mhm, but because I am curious, is there anything that has been happening as of late that you feel needs to be addressed with me?”

You felt yourself stiffen but knew your one and only complaint was not something to bring up in this setting.

“No, nothing,” you shrug, and Toshinori beams.

“I’m glad!”

Now, the problem.

The big, fat, stinky, hooligan, wanting to throttle someone problem.

For the past sixty of your ninety days, someone has been stealing your lunch.

Yes, you heard that correctly; someone was stealing your damn lunch! Every morning you woke up and prepared a delicious bento box for yourself. Some days you went as far as cutting shapes into your fruits and veggies just to make yourself grin. You weren’t the best chef in the world, but your bento boxes were pretty enough to make up for it, in your opinion. But the thing is, every day when you went into the communal fridge, you noticed two things.

One, your bento box was no longer in the same place, and two, the bento box was not yours at all.

The food was disastrously organized. Rice and lettuce spilling out in every partition in the box. The fruit and veggies often packed in this box had multiple cuts in them, implying that whoever did this was less than ideal with a knife. The meat was often oversalted, the sushi never sitting together, and everything was just… not it.

The first time you had sighed and eaten it, grumbling about how your precious lunch was stolen. But you had quickly figured out that it was inedible, and Mina, Uraraka, and Yaoyorozu thank god, offered to share their meals. 

Seeing that you were distressed about how someone stole your egg and octopus sausages one day, Mina declared that they would watch the break room for whoever was stealing your light blue bento box. The first day you staked out, you had done it with Mina. But ten minutes into waiting around, you needed to pee. So you stood up and left in a hurry, leaving Mina alone.

But when you returned, Mina was gone, instead standing by Kirishima’s desk with a bright grin and a stance that screamed that she heard something she liked (gossip, possible in-office romance, a love confession?). Her jaw dropped as she noticed you and Kirishima had turned and waved in your direction as you raced into the break room to open the fridge, and sure enough, your bento was gone.

The next time, you staked out with Uraraka. Your arms were folded, your bladder cleared, and your lips twisted into a pout as you glared and stared down every single member who entered the room. Uraraka whispered to you her guesses about just who might be the thief, every other person rating an 8/10 likelihood of stealing your lunch.

But as the both of you sat there, your eyes narrowed at each passerby, no one came to collect your bento today.

“Deku-kun, no packed lunch today?” Uraraka asked as the green, curly-haired man you had only met once previously raced into the break room, grabbing the extra chopsticks meticulously hidden in the third bottom draw.

“Ah, Uraraka-san, y/l/n-san! Uh, no,” Midoriya greeted you both, who apparently responds to the nickname Deku, laughs off as he grabs a handful of napkins. “Todoroki-kun left all our lunches in his car by accident, and well… they spoiled… Kacchan’s pissed, so I ran off to get lunch for us today!”

Uraraka laughed, shaking her head, “Leave it to Todoroki-kun to act that way.”

Midoriya laughed, bright and clearly in agreement, “You should have seen his face when Kacchan asked for his lunch! I swear–”

“HOW LONG DOES IT TAKE TO GRAB FUCKING CHOPSTICKS, SHIT-KU! I’M FUCKING STARVING!” a voice roared from nowhere near the entrance of the break room. You did, however, jump a bit, eyes turning toward the break room entrance to see the blond man (Bakugou? Kacchan? You had no idea which was correct) near the entrance of the floor. 

“It’s only been a minute, Kacchan, relax!” Midoriya laughs, completely unaffected by the startling shout as he waves goodbye to both you and Uraraka before leaving, joining Bakugou as the both of them seem to talk comfortably… well, maybe more like bickering.

“Why are they–”

“Childhood friends, apparently,” Uraraka sighed, but the smile on her face betrays her exasperation.

No one stole your bento that day.

Yaoyorozu took up the third stake out, the two of you idly chatting about tea. You honestly had no idea what to talk about with Yaomomo; she was often just so elegant and mature despite being your age. When you learned that her family was in charge of the Yaoyorozu Corp, it had been strangely easy to accept that. 

It made sense.

So as the two of you stood at the kitchen sink, boiling water for tea Yaomomo swore would be the best matchup for your packed nigiri, the both of you missed the man who walked into the room, opened the fridge, and took your lunch.

“I… I am so sorry,” Yaomomo apologized, head bowed dangerously low as the both of you looked at the sloppily cut salmon in your not actual bento. “Please eat my food in reparation.”

“No, it’s okay,” you sigh, chewing on the somehow still warm salmon. “I deserved this loss.”

Luck was just on this man's side, it seemed. No matter what you did, you could never catch the man in action, and you were ready to give up.

But this was the last attempt you said to yourself as you returned to your office floor, the evaluation done, and the rest of your life coming to light. You could do this. No! You WOULD do this!

.

.

“Why don’t you just put your name on your bento box?” Bakugou asked, a lone eyebrow raised in what you could only assume was judgment and pity. The explosive man was standing in the doorway of the breakroom, watching as you and Mina were trying to climb up the counters of the breakroom to grab the camera you had previously planted. “Obviously, it doesn’t have your name on it.”

“Um,” you squeak, having been obviously caught by someone who intimidated you just the slightest bit. “That’s a good idea, thank you, Bakugou-san.”

“Tch, whatever, just clean up the damn counters, fucking nasty standing up on there. Some people prepare their food there.”

“We would never forget to do that!” you argue, desperate to not leave a bad impression on this man.

“I don’t know much about you, but I know raccoon eyes over there would.”

“MY NAME IS MINA!”

“Like I care.”

He left without so much as a wave but did seem to nod with his departure. You sighed as you hopped off the counter, Mina grabbing the cleaning supplies as she cursed out the long-gone man under her breath. 

But you were looking at the fridge with your missing bento box.

“I can’t believe I never put my name on it.”

“It’s okay! Not even Yaomomo thought of it, so I say we are still smart!”

.

.

.

It was the next day, you were at your desk, anxious as hell as you did your work, trying not to focus on the fact that it was lunchtime and you were actively avoiding the break room. You wondered if they wouldn’t come and collect it today. If somehow they were an asshole and wouldn’t care if your name was on it! What would happen then? What if it was someone like Bakugou who was taking your lunch? What then? You were sure you would cave in slight fear and major intimidation if he said that your lunch was his now.

“Want a cutie while we wait, cutie?” Mina asked, waving the small tangerine in her fingers as she grins.

“Please,” you say in gratitude for the food because you were starving. “Thank you.”

Eventually, you lost track of what was happening, becoming all too invested in the conversation that Mina was telling you about that involved Kaminari, Kirishima, Bakugou, Midoriya, twenty-seven Red Bulls, fifteen Monsters, and five shots of sake. It seemed that the former two were quite big instigators when they wanted to be, and the latter two were unable to back away from challenges, especially when the other was involved.

“Y/l/n?” an unfamiliar voice called from behind you, and you turned partially in your chair as you looked behind you.

Standing behind you was a tall man with red and white hair, and from this distance, you noticed immediately that his eyes were a deep grey and brilliant blue.

Todoroki Shouto.

“T-Todoroki-san!” you greet him back, voice unable to keep from trembling as your nerves shot up. What was going on? You two had never interacted before! He was always gone, never present, and whenever he was in the office, it seemed that you weren’t there.

He cleared his throat and raised up two identical bento boxes.

“It seems… I have apparently been stealing your bento boxes,” he concludes, pressing the blue bento box with your name written on it into your hands.

Your jaw drops as your fingers curve around the cool plastic, eyes blinking up a storm as you try to abstain from laughing high pitched and ugly like. 

“It was you?!”

A pink color blooms onto his cheeks as he averts his eye contact with you and nods slowly, “I am so sorry.”

“I just… how?!” you exclaim, exasperated, this man obviously being a bit dense if he had no idea he was taking your bento box!

“I prepare my bento boxes the night before, and I don’t really remember what I put into them….” Todoroki explains slowly, his hand rubbing the back of his neck, his tongue clicking the roof of his tongue. “I just thought that my cooking was improving and that I was somehow doing an amazing job.”

The grin that overcomes your face is one of subtle, strange fondness and soft warmth. “I can tell you that you probably haven’t improved much,” you tease, opening your bento box to see your prepared meal for the day. 

Cucumber salad, bulgogi beef, rice, and some fruit.

It was packed exactly how you remembered.

“I can’t believe I finally get to eat a meal I prepared,” you continue to tease, your eyes moving up to meet Todoroki, who was also looking at your bento previously. “Thank you for returning my meals and apologizing.”

“It was nothing,” Todoroki waved off with a single hand before opening up his own disastrously assembled bento box. It looked worse than usual today. Everything was just thrown in, it seemed. You saw egg and rice, but everything else in there was indescribable. He smiles at you before sighing at his bento. “This looks more like my stuff.”

You laugh, shaking your head, “You want to share my bento box? I’m sure you probably don’t want to return to that.”

“No, it’s okay,” Todoroki gently declined, although he looked at your bento with great want. He cleared his throat, gaze moving to lock on yours, and you swore his cheeks were still pink but no longer from embarrassment. “I just wanted to come and apologize for stealing your lunch for so long and to thank you for the meals; they were all delicious. Especially the soba you had made.”

“It’s all good; it’s in the past now,” you say gently, somehow finding yourself falling for a man you’ve barely just begun to talk with. The both of you stare at each other, and your skin feels warm. You chuckle, gaze averting for a moment before returning as you tease him. “Although, if you steal from me again, I’m not so sure if I’ll be so lenient.”

“It won’t happen again, promise,” Todoroki smiles, and you feel your spine melt. “But I would love to make it up to you somehow. I can make you dinner one night or something?”

You laugh, head shaking, “No, absolutely not; I don’t trust your cooking skills just yet. But you can definitely take me out to dinner.”

“Yeah, I can definitely do that,” Todoroki agrees, and the both of you fall silent as the shy stares continue. “Does, um… is Friday at seven okay with you?”

“That works,” you say, and Todoroki smiles.

“Good, I’ll uh, see you then?”

“See you,” you agree with a sweet smile before turning around, your fingers raised in a small wave. 

You turn to see Mina, Uraraka, and Yaomomo staring at you, eyes comically wide and so very intrigued.

“Oh… my… GOD!” Mina shrieked as Todoroki walks away, and you shriek as she jumps across the table and shakes you, screaming about office romances and meet-cutes being entirely too underrated. “PROMISE ME I’LL BE INVITED TO THE WEDDING!!!!”

“MINA!”

.

.

.

.

.

It would take about three years of dating, several months of teaching Shouto how to cook, which resulted in a few bellyaches. Still, eventually yes, Mina would be invited to your wedding.

[mrs-han]

Hello!! I see your request is open, so i was wondering could you write about jumin finding out that mc has a self harm scars? And she’s been trying not to relapse into her old habit but she’s having a hard time so it’s the only thing she can think of? Im sorry for my bad english 😅 and if you don’t want to do it, it’s okay! Don’t force yourself to write it. Thank you, oh and also i like your writings a lot! Have a good day :)

~~~

You’re too sweet, thank you so much for your request! This deals with some fairly upsetting topics!

~~~

The delicate georgette sheen from your onyx long-sleeved dress rubbed harshly against your slashed arms. Of all times to relapse, this was the worst - Jumin was a guest of honor at a new hotel inauguration, and of course, he brought you along.

Palms sweating, you pasted a friendly smile towards every patron in attendance. Frankly, you were overjoyed with your husband’s success. But with you having issues of your own... it was difficult to be in a celebratory mood.

“Mrs. Han!” A sponsor quickly made his way towards you, bringing with him several other philanthropists. Anxious, you tugged the hem of your sleeve down, experiencing a sharp pain and a subtle ooze of liquid.

“It’s an honor to finally meet you,” the older gentleman beamed, hand extended towards you. “I am Tanaka Sato, a close partner of your husband.”

Again, you plastered a fake smile across your mouth. You reached over to shake his hand and shuddered as pain radiated through your right arm. Unconsciously, you tugged at your sleeve. “A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Tanaka.”

“It seems he has chosen a new aesthetic, entirely separate of C&R’s minimalistic design. Are you the inspiration behind this?” A chirpy young woman chimed in.

“I always consult with my wife before making any major decisions,” Jumin spoke affectionately, resting his hand on your waist and lightly tugging you close to him. “This project has been hers as much as it has been mine.”

Several of the woman blushed and whispered amongst themselves as the men took a subtle step back, aware of the power both you and Jumin exuded.

If only you felt as powerful as you looked.

“Jumin?” You flashed him a subtle look of desperation. “I need to freshen up, where’s the restroom?”

“Come with me, my love. Excuse us,” he smiled, his eyes bright and full of fondness for you, ignoring everyone else.

It still confused you, how he could look at you with so much love in his eyes. A whirlwind of emotion ravaged your stomach and chest every time he did it. Were you deserving? Certainly not. But he continued to gaze at you with more tenderness than Cupid’s gaze upon Psyche.

“Are you well?” He asked, the strong acoustic voice that overpowered the venue twenty minutes ago now a low, effete tone.

“I’m okay,” you lied. “I couldn’t find the bathroom, but I’ll be out in a minute or two! Go back to your guests!”

A lie was difficult to get past Han Jumin. But he kissed your temple and squeezed your arm - and you held back a mighty yelp.

There was a first time for everything.

“I’ll be waiting for you by the grand piano,” he hummed. “Take your time.”

After watching his withdrawing figure, you pushed the door to the ladies’ room open, flew to a stall and caught your breath before slowly unbuttoning the diamond buttons on your sleeves. Pain greeted you instantly as the cuts on your wrists throbbed unbearably, each laceration making up a heartbeat on their own.

Easing the sleeves up further, you winced. Dull maroon meshed with bright red, old droplets of blood met new. Unforgiving gashes punished you mercilessly, each slice reminding you of how stupid it was to relapse now, when things were so good. Why now? You were so beloved. So cherished. You had no goddamn reason to do this to yourself.

Choking back sobs, you recklessly pushed the stall door open and turned the faucet on. The water cold, you shoved your arms under and bit your lip, desperate to keep from crying out. Determined to keep your scars from discharging anymore blood, you scrubbed with the flat of your hand. The white of the porcelain sink and marble countertops, illuminated by the overhead lights, was now stained with red hues. You had to hurry before someone else came in - everyone knew your face. Anyone could report what they saw to Jumin, especially...

“MC?”

Jaehee.

Tears blurring your vision, you looked towards the door. Her eyes wide, she stood there, processing the scene before her. Hands shaking, you turned the faucet off and, trembling, faced her with what little courage you had left.

She continued to stand there, speechless. You had presented a fairly complicated situation to her, no doubt. Finally, she pressed her hand to the door. “There you are... I will let Mr. Han know.”

“No!” You bellowed. “Please, don’t!”

Conflicted, Jaehee hesitated. “Those cuts... they look serious. It’s best that I —”

“Jaehee,” you pleaded, tears falling down your chin. “Please. I’m begging you, don’t tell Jumin.”

Jaehee’s brows creased. “But MC... he’s worried about you. He’s been standing by the piano for over twenty minutes and now he is sending others to look for you... myself included.”

Overwhelmed and angry as more blood leaked from your opened gashes, you shouted at her. “He can’t see me like this!! Look at me!! Look!!”

Jaehee blinked and flinched slightly.

“I look disgusting!! My arms hurt, I... I can’t face him like this, Jaehee... please —”

“Have you found her, Assistant Kang?”

You didn’t have time to shield yourself. Jumin stepped through the threshold and froze in place. Completely exposed and frozen with fear, you stood before your husband like a deer in headlights.

A single drop of water falling into the ceramic of the sink was the only sound that could be heard.

“Leave us,” Jumin spoke to Jaehee, his voice trembling ever so slightly - his power slipping from him.

Obedient to the end, Jaehee agreed - leaving you stranded.

“What is this,” Jumin demanded, power seeping back to his voice.

You trembled. “Jumin...”

He moved closer to you. “Who did this to you?”

What did he mean...? His eyes trembled, moving back and forth between your arms and your eyes. Did he... not believe you could have done this to yourself? Did he not want to...?

You hung your head shamefully. There was no going back from this, no more hiding from him anymore. You felt mortified, embarrassed that he could see you like this. If only you could turn back time and...

“Give me your arm.”

You flinched - he was already so close to you and you didn’t hear him move. Refusing to look at him, you limply lifted your arm - his hand took hold, making you wince.

He turned the faucet on and ran his hand through the water, checking it’s temperature. “Come closer to the sink,” he hummed, easing you closer to the sink with his other hand on your lower back.

You shuddered as your husband cupped cool water over your wounds. His fingers stroked your burning cuts, making you wince and twitch - but he remained kind and gentle throughout.

What bothered you more than anything was his silence.

He remained focused - but quiet. Hot tears flooded your vision - he would think of you differently now. He could think you were crazy, or he would put you away in a mental ward. He wouldn’t want you anymore, not after this.

The silence dragged, second to second, minute to minute. Jumin patted your arm dry, still saying nothing.

“Jumin...” your voice trembled. “I... I —”

“Give me your other arm,” he spoke, a commanding yet tender tone overtaking his voice.

“Jumin...”

His eyes met with yours and you trembled under the weight of his sorrow. “Talk to me, darling. Please talk to me.”

You moved your hand over your mouth. What were you supposed to say...?

Jumin swallowed thickly. “Are you... are you unhappy with me?”

“No, no Jumin, not at all...!”

“Then...” he took a step toward you, cradling your elbows in the palms of his hand. “... talk to me. Dearest, these wounds look fresh... days old.”

“I...” you leaned against the sink, your legs wobbling. “There are days when... when I’m the happiest person in the world because I have a wonderful life... and I have you, you who loves me more than life itself... and yet... there are days when I’m so sad, so miserable with my own existence that I... I take my misery out on myself.”

Jumin’s thumbs stroked your abrasions, his touch so gentle that you lost any will to contain your tears. You leaned into him, hands close to your chest, and you wept.

“Come here,” he cooed, wrapping his arms around you and holding you firmly against him. “I’m here, darling. I’m here.”

“Of course you are,” you whispered. “You’ve always been here...”

He cradled your face in his hands, wiping your tears with the pads of his thumbs. “I want to help you, darling.” His blinked and you gasped as tears rolled down his eyes. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“Jumin...”

He clutched your hands desperately, as if you would disappear without a moment’s notice. “I’ll do anything for you. I’ll sit with you and we can come up with a plan for you to stop hurting yourself. I’ll shorten my schedule at work just to hear your troubles, my love. I’ll do anything, so please. Don’t leave me. Whatever is plaguing you, we can fight it together... I won’t ever leave you to fight on your own, so please. Please.”

His knuckled whitened. His hands trembled. For the first time since you met him, you witnessed your husband so desperate to keep you by his side... and you realized that you weren’t alone anymore. For the first time in a long time, you felt a link in the chains that subdued you break and shatter... all because he loved you and wanted to help you.

No he couldn’t banish your demons all together. You didn’t expect him to. But at least this time... you weren’t alone.

“Thank you,” you pipped. “I only wish you found this out later, rather than... here, now, at this very moment. I’m afraid I ruined a really important night for you...”

Jumin carefully kissed your scarred wrist. “No businessman nor any proposition will take precedent over you, my love. Now... let’s finish cleaning you up, mm?”

Through tears, you cracked your first genuine smile of the evening. “Okay.”

[ad1thi]

meri pyaari tony

okay so @iam93percentstardust got me rly excited about this new au and even though im never going to write it i just wanna write a lil so enjoy everybody!! (hopefully this will clear up what i meant by not a happy ending but also not an unhappy ending)

//

The phone rings once, twice before it cuts off, and James’ back stiffens.

On the table, his mother’s fingers have stilled - frozen in the action of pushing the birthday card for his 10 year old nephew into an envelope.

The phone rings again, just twice, long enough to be unmistakable but too short to actually answer.

He looks out to the heaving rain, and without even thinking of reaching for an umbrella, he’s already sprinting across the grounds of his house, uncaring of how soaked he’s getting as he pushes himself up and over the gate of the neighbouring house and into the attic.

In the molten, rusty room, on top of an old suitcase that he’s seen Tony sit on countless times with his feet swinging off the ground - is a 6 year old boy; fiddling with the buttons of his jacket.

James runs his hands across his face, wiping off the water that’s collected in the creases of his forehead, and walks over to the kid.

He must look a state to the kid, sopping wet and uncharacteristically happy despite said dampness, but he can’t bring himself to care.

“I’m really hungry,” he says to the boy, grinning, “do you think I can borrow one of your fingers to eat?”

Instinctively, the boy puts his hands behind his back, shaking his head fervently and James pouts, “not even the one? You have 10!”

The kid is saved from answering from a call of “Peter!” ringing outside the attic, and James turns, watching Tony fumble with closing an umbrella and he pushes into the attic.

Its a scene that James has imagined a thousand times over, watching Tony meet him in the attic where their childhood selves because friends all those years ago - and yet his imagination somehow didn’t do justice to the scene in front of him.

It takes Tony a couple of seconds to realise that James is there, and his face splits into a hesitant smile thats over-run with a frown when the kid barrels into his leg.

Tony runs his finger through the kid’s hair, “go find your Papa Peter - I’ll be down in a couple of seconds”

He waits until the kid’s disappeared down the stairs to turn back to James, “so, are you guys bestfriends yet?”

“No,” James says, smiling that private smile he’d reserved for Tony, “but you know me - I grow on people”

“Its good to see you Rhodey,” Tony says, and its only the fact that he’s carrying his bodyweight in water while Tony is wearing an expensive suit that keeps him from crossing the room and wrapping his arms around Tony.

“I forget,” Tony says, settling down on the suitcase his son vacated, “was it 2 rings or 3 rings? Our emergency code?”

“2,” Rhodey says, lifting up his fingers, “but then again - everything was an emergency for you so we never had any other code”

“Dad told me you’d stopped by,” Tony says, “didn’t realise you cared so much about this old dump”

Rhodey chooses not to answer that, “So you’re finally taking Major Stark to your house huh? Took you long enough”

“I know,” Tony huffs, “we’ll be at each other’s throats by the end of the week, but what can you do?”

Tony gestures around the attic vaguely, “I wanted to give Peter a chance to see this house before he sold it though - let him see where his Dad grew up”

“Peter?” Rhodey raises an eyebrow, “like Peter Pan? And here I thought your child would have one of those weird names with an unnecessarily pretentious pronunciation”

Tony raises his hand to swat at Rhodey, and for a second its just like old times.

Rhodey settles down next to him, shoving him with his hip until Tony shifts enough to make space on the suitcase for him.

“Do you know how long I’ve waited for this moment?” Rhodey says softly, “I’ve imagined it 1000 times over. ‘Course, in my version you were in distinctly less clothing, on your knees begging for forgiveness while an epic revenge tune played in the background”

Tony chuckles, eyes crinkling into familiar crow’s feet, and Rhodey thinks that for all the years he spent hating Tony - nothing can compare to the decades he spent loving him.

“So, New York Best Seller Writer huh? You finally did it Rhodey,” Tony leans in with a conspiratorial look on his face, “I walked out on you way too early”

you shouldn’t have walked out on me at all, Rhodey thinks, but this isn’t the right time for that conversation.

(he wonders if there ever will be a right time for that conversation)

Instead, Rhodey asks, “have you read any of them?” and Tony scoffs, “have you met me?”

“I can barely get through the first couple of pages of essential stuff like manuals, do I look like I can read?”

“That being said,” Tony says, “with a cover that says The Wild Washerwoman will wash you away, and - fuck what was the other one?” he scrunches up his nose in thought, “Tricycle - it will puncture your life, how could I resist?”

It warms something dead inside Rhodey that Tony reads his books, that Tony knows them well enough to recite the gaudy catchphrases his PR team used to sell them.

“Yuck man,” Tony says, “honestly how far have you fallen for a couple of sales. I gotta say though, extremely entertaining”

“Yeah well,” Rhodey shrugs, “horror is easy. I’ve been trying to write a love story for the past three years now and I’m not sure how to end it”

the why goes unspoken, hanging in the air and making the room thick with tension.

Tony reaches out and cups his cheek, and it takes everything in Rhodey to not lean into it.

“you’ll finish it,” Tony says softly, “You’re my Rhodey - ‘course you’ll finish it”

Rhodey pushes off his seat suddenly, making it half way to the door before he remembers to turn around and tell Tony to “stay put, don’t move I’ll be right back”

And he runs through the rain again, ignoring the shouts of his father and his manager to grab the manuscript on his bed.

He pushes it under his jacket roughly and runs back, where Tony is still sitting on the old suitcase - legs dangling just above the floor.

He puts the manuscript in between his hands, and says in one short breath, “read it”

and so Tony does - though he does flip through large portions of the book and crucial plot points.

Its okay though, because Tony lived through those moments, so he’s allowed to embellish and skip to the end.

When he flips the last page and looks back up at Rhodey, there’s tears in his eyes - but Rhodey’s known him long enough to know that these are happy tears

“This is your version Rhodeybear,” Tony says, “mine would be a little different”

Rhodey shrugs delicately, thinking about the night he tore through 10 pages trying to get that final last first kiss right, “a happy ending sells right? Why - what would be different in your version?”

“Does it matter?” Tony’s voice is wet, “I like your version better”

“But you found your Mr Right,” Rhodey says matter of factly, and Tony just shakes his head, “more like Mr Right place right time”

“But,”  Tony wipes away the stray tear on his cheek, “he gave me Peter so I can’t complain. You should see me as a dad platypus, it’s like I was made for this role. Being a dad, thats the one thing I’m not a disaster at”

Tony holds out the manuscript, but Rhodey pushes it back gently shaking his head, “I don’t want anyone else reading this. Not my manager, not your husband, nobody else. The story in those pages, that’s ours, just ours.”

Tony leans up and presses a soft kiss on Rhodey’s cheek, featherlight but its what makes Rhodey reach out and say.

“I can still take you away if you want. Just say the word and I’ll carry you over my shoulder - away from all of this”

Tony opens his mouth to reply, but he’s cut off by Peter barrelling in, making grabby arms at his father.

Tony hefts up his son, arm caught around Peter’s waist and he looks at Rhodey with a mixture of nostalgia and regret, “I think I might be a bit too heavy for you now honeybear”

Tony leans in and rubs his nose against Peter’s cheek and in Rhodey’s mind, he’s right there with Tony - arms around the two most important boys in his life.

But in reality, there’s a distance between them, a space that try as he might, Rhodey can’t cross.

For the first time in almost 5 years, that doesn’t make him sad anymore.

you should see me as a dad platypus, Tony had said, and Rhodey’s seeing it now.

Oddly, it doesn’t hurt quite as much as he always thought it would.

“We have a party to get to right?” Tony says finally, setting Peter down so that they can walk down the stairs, “your nephew’s 10th birthday is it?”

The rain hasn’t let up, but in all fairness to his family - neither has the party because Rhodey and Tony make their way down to see a gaggle of uncles and aunts dancing in the grounds anyway, music coming from a speaker hidden away safely from the porch.

Peter runs across the field to a man with blue eyes and blond hair, who instantly bend down and picks him up - spinning him around and smiling when Peter shrieks about how wet he’s getting.

“One dance?” Rhodey asks, extending his hand out to Tony, “for old time’s sake?”

The look that Tony sends his way cannot be described as anything but pure adoration when he accepts Rhodey’s hand, giggling when Rhodey uses the momentum to pull him in close to his chest and snag an arm around his waist.

He’s consciously aware of the weight of the metal band around Tony’s finger pressing into his as they sway to the music, but it doesn’t bother him anymore.

To the rest of the world, he’s always be a Mr someone - but to Rhodey, he has and forever will be, his very first love, Tony.

Fin

[thotantics]

⚤   pairing — reader + Kim Namjoon + Jeon Jungkook

✎ word count — 3,952

✦ genre — smut, pwp

✗ warnings  — graphic description of sex, threesome, noona/hyung kink, voyeurism, m/m (light), oral sex, gagging, overstimulation, dom!jungkook, unsafe sex

[A/N] not requested, i just needed to get this out of my brain. im so sorry

You had assumed the moment you got there and was greeted at the door by a shirtless, smirking Namjoon that he was there alone, but the clunky Balenciaga sneakers kicked off haphazardly at the front door was a clear indicator that someone else was home.

When he texted you to come over, the conversation had been hot and heavy. A lot of what he’d do to you if you were around and what he’d like to see you do for him while you sat alone in your apartment with a hot cup of tea in hand. It definitely wasn’t the first time the two of you had hooked up but it was the first time you’d dropped your “sit around on the couch watching netflix” plans for a booty call.

It’s hard to care who else could be around, when Namjoon presses you up against the wall in the hallway, his hands all over you. He breathes against your lips that he can’t wait, that he wants you right here, right now as he carries you, legs around his waist, to the couch and sits down heavily with you in his lap.

His mouth is hot, traveling down your throat and his hands are cold as he shoves them under your shirt to feel the warmth of your skin. You gasp, rolling your hips against the thigh he shoves up between your legs and grasp his face, bringing his lips back to your own. His tongue presses forward into your mouth at the same time as he forces your waist down onto him, grinding your middle into his thigh.

“You’re so hot,” Namjoon rasps, biting roughly at your lower lip so he can hear you gasp and feel you squirm against him. “You know what I wanna do to you, baby?”

You moan softly, “What?”

“I want to see your pussy weep for me.” He reaches between you, a heavy hand presses hard at your cunt through your jeans, “I want to watch you cum so many times that your legs are shaking.” His mouth travels down your throat and he removes his hand to lift your shirt over your head, then his attention is on your breasts, yanking the cups of your bra down and palming them in each hand, tongue licking at the valley between them as he continues, “Do you wanna have some fun tonight, baby?”

“Yes.” You whimper, back arching to press your breasts closer to his face, and he takes a nipple into his mouth, eyes lifting to meet your own as he sucks harshly and lets go with a wet pop.

“I have plans for you, baby girl.” He smiles. “Do you trust me?”

You falter a little, smiling, “What? Of course I do.” You laugh, “Why else would I be here at this time of night? In your lap...half naked..”

He grins, “You’re a dirty girl, aren’t you? I bet you’d let me do some nasty shit to you, wouldn’t you?”

Your smile only broadens as you stare down at him, not bothering to answer because in truth, he knew he was right. You didn’t need to confirm that. In the few times you’ve hooked up casually like this in the past, Namjoon had been quite experimental. You’d been having a lot of fun together already, you were curious what else it was he had in mind for the two of you.

“I have a surprise for you.” He says, languidly lifting his hips so his impressive erection nudges against your leg. The smile that lights up your face makes him smile back at you, brows lifting mischievously.

He encourages you to stand up with a pat on your thigh and a mumbled, “Let’s go.” You stand and wait for him, offering him a hand to help him off the couch, and he keeps hold of your hand and leads the way towards where you knew his bedroom was. The door is shut and you’re surprised when Namjoon raps his knuckles on the wood of the door. But you’re even more surprised when someone inside his room opens the door for the two of you.

Your free hand flies up to shield your bare breasts, bra still shoved down to your ribcage, as you see Jungkook is standing just out of the door frame. Namjoon turns back to smile at you reassuringly and then he leads you into the room by your hand. Jungkook hesitates, locking eyes with you, taking in your startled expression at the sight of him, before he shuts the door behind the three of you.

“What do you say, baby?” Namjoon ignores the younger man and turns to you, hands smoothing up your sides and his lower lip between his teeth devilishly, “I know you like Jungkookie. I bet you’d love to play with him, hm? And I’d love to see what you can do for Jungkook before I get my turn...you know, if you’re up for it, of course.” He’s gauging your expression carefully, but after a moment he breaks out into a wide grin as you chew on your lower lip to stifle a smile threatening to mirror his own. The hands you were using to shield your breasts fall as you turn back to look at Jungkook.

“Was this your idea?” You ask the younger man, who breaks out into a grin that matches Namjoon’s - devilish, mischievous, playful.

“Maybe.” Jungkook shrugs noncommittally. His lower lip between his teeth, his eyes trail from your face down the rest of your body, settling on the way your hips shift side to side as you take hesitant steps away from Namjoon and closer to him. He opens his mouth to tell you that you look beautiful, but the words freeze in his throat as you step so close that he can smell the perfume you’re wearing, your shampoo and the distinct scent of arousal pooling between your legs.

“I didn’t think I’d get a chance to do this,” You giggle softly, a hand reaching out to brush his hair away from his forehead, pushing it back, “I thought I’d missed my chance...I’m kinda nervous.”

He blinks a couple of times, surprised by your admission. In truth, he had felt the same. Once he found out that you had been seeing Namjoon casually, he admitted defeat. He figured he wouldn’t get the chance to see you like this, breasts bare, eyes curious and hopeful, ready to play.

“Kiss me, Jungkook.” You whisper, lips parted and reaching out for his own. “I always wanted you to kiss me so bad...” Your tongue wets your lips, only a breath away from him but his eyes are downcast and his hands are balled into fists, and he doesn’t move.

For a moment, you pull back in concern. Maybe he doesn’t want this. You’d never forgive yourself if you thought for a moment that you were forcing him to do something he didn’t want, so you search his eyes, worry creasing your forehead, and you glance back nervously at Namjoon. He nods encouragingly at you from where he stands, so you turn back to Jungkook. He catches your eye and you see the blush on his cheeks, the way his chest is heaving with each breath. Then he reaches out with both hands and palms your naked breasts.

With a sharp inhale, you stare down at his hands, his fingers pinching very lightly at your pert nipples, and he laughs. It’s a shaky, nervous sound but one you’re delighted to hear when you meet his gaze once more.

“You’re beautiful, noona. I never thought I’d get to touch you like this..”

“Kiss me,” You tell him again, fingers carding through his hair, leaning into his touch and pouting your lips, throwing all pretenses aside and practically begging him for it, “Kiss me~...” Your lips mold over his and that’s when he responds.

A fire ignites in him and roars to life, his arms crashing around you and pinning your body tightly against his - your chest flush against his and his hips jutting forward to grind against your lower belly insistently. You moan into his mouth, opening up to his tongue as he smirks against your kisses. As Namjoon had before, Jungkook lifts you, tucking your legs around his waist and he walks you back until your back hits Namjoon’s mattress. You briefly wonder where he is, if he’s jealous, if he likes what he’s seeing already but Jungkook is entirely far too distracting for you to give it much thought.

You’re a tangle of limbs as he rolls you over, attempting to situate himself over top of you but you manage to push on his shoulders until he lays back, head on the pillows, pulling away from his heated kiss for a ragged breath. The sight of Jungkook below you, breathing heavy and hair a mess, is a thousand times hotter than you ever could have dreamed. He licks his lips, savoring the taste of your mouth on them before he grins at you and then he’s sitting up against you, winding his hands in your hair and claiming your mouth again.

You let him have what he wants, as long as he stays seated under you. He’s content to kiss you for a long while, stroking your breasts happily and rubbing at you gingerly through your jeans as he murmurs half formed praises in between kisses. You convince him to lay flat on his back, at least, and he tugs you along with him, but you pause to remove your bra properly before you press yourself against the material of his black t shirt, kissing a path down his throat.

“Noona...” He groans softly, “Wanna kiss you here,” then he presses one hand confidently between your bodies, cupping your mound through your jeans.

You moan softly, biting down delicately on the skin of his throat. “You can do whatever you want to me, Jungkook.” Sliding from his lap, he reaches for you before he realizes that you’re shedding the rest of your clothing, and he hurries to do the same, stripping bare impressively fast as you move to rejoin him on Namjoon’s bed once more.

Namjoon hasn’t made a sound. You spare him a glance only to see he’s sitting down at a desk chair, hands folded, watching the scene play out in front of him. He’s only wearing his sweatpants, eyes blazing when they meet your own. You offer him a quick smile before you turn, focusing your attention on the younger man, climbing quickly onto the bed over him. A glance down tells you he’s rock hard, his erection jutting out invitingly from his pelvis, jerking when you reach down and take him in your hand. Jungkook is thick, not as long as Namjoon but impressive in his own right. And impossibly hard.

You stroke him softly, eyes on his expression, and Jungkook melts instantly in your hand. “Oh!” His thighs jerk and his hips rut up into your slow, sensual movements, “Noona..”

“I know you wanted to kiss my pussy, but...can I get my mouth on your pretty cock first?” You ask him quietly, kissing a path down his toned chest and tensed stomach. He groans, thighs parting to make room as you settle between his legs.

“Fuck!” he hisses, “Yes, noona, please.”

With his permission, you focus entirely on his shaft. He’s thick and leaking from the tip, flexing and throbbing in your grip as you part your lips to take him into your mouth. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Namjoon circle around to the right side of the bed. He stands with his head tilted to get a better look at what you’re doing, and you sink lower on Jungkook, gagging once around his length but determined to get all of him down your throat. Eyes casting upwards, you watch his expression carefully.

He seemingly hasn’t noticed Namjoon, and if he has he‘s doing a good job of ignoring him. Lips parted and breath coming out in soft whimpers, Jungkook only has eyes for you as you glide your mouth back to the tip of his cock, before sliding back down and enveloping him fully once more with an appreciative groan.

Namjoon speaks up, his tone low and soft, like he’s commenting on the artwork at a gallery, “Look how well she takes your cock, Jungkook.” Your eyes quickly glance over in his direction as he moves, walking around your left shoulder until he disappears behind you. Then you feel his fingers on you.

Namjoon's hand lands hard on your ass cheek, fingers digging tightly into the plump flesh and spreading you open so he can stroke his opposite hand up your slit from the back.

“You should see how wet she is.” Namjoon says, “She loves your cock, Jungkookie. Don’t you, baby?” As he asks this, he presses a long, thick finger into you, and you pull away from Jungkook to reply and end up moaning, bowing your head briefly against the younger man’s pelvis.

“Don’t stop sucking his cock, baby.” Namjoon tells you, voice low and you quickly left your head, mouth falling open and enveloping the cock in front of your face once more. “You want a taste, Jungkook-ah?”

“Please, hyung..” Jungkook gasps, his fingers threading into your hair, pressing you farther down on his cock so that you gag again, and he moans at the feel of your throat restricting. Namjoon presses another finger into you, pushing them deeper, then he runs them delicately towards your clit, making you shiver. And then he’s gone.

Your eyes fly open, wanting to protest, but your mouth is full. Before you can complain, Namjoon circles around the bed towards Jungkook and he offers the younger man his fingers, slick with your arousal. Jungkook, eyes locked on you, mouth open, panting as you suck him off, isn’t paying attention so Namjoon grabs a handful of his hair with his free hand and tilts his head back, pressing his fingers to his parted lips.

Greedily, Jungkook latches onto Namjoon’s fingers, moaning at the taste of your arousal, sucking noisily while you and Namjoon look on. He shuts his eyes and grips the older man’s forearm, keeping his hand in place until he sucked every last drop of your essence from him, then he groans, pushing his hand away and pulling his cock from your mouth.

“Lay down, noona.” Jungkook tells you gruffly, “You taste so good, I need more..”

Amused, Namjoon pulls back and watches as the two of you adjust, you on your back, Jungkook splaying your legs open wide and dipping his head down between your thighs eagerly. You gasp and your hand flies out, yanking Jungkook’s hair.

“Gently,” You whimper to him, “Slowly..”

But he doesn’t listen, tongue out, mouth open, lapping at your center like a man possessed. Namjoon takes your hands from the younger man’s hair and pins them together in one of his much larger hands, coaxing your mouth open. You weren’t sure at what point he got his cock out but it was suddenly there, pressing past your lips as you whimper and gasp at Jungkook’s overeager ministrations.

“Ssh, baby.” Namjoon tells you, “Be a good girl and take it.”

With your hands captured in one of Namjoon’s and his cock pressing forward into your mouth, you don’t have much of a choice. Jungkook’s tongue and the insistent moaning against your slick heat is bordering on painful, it’s so overstimulating. You’re hyper sensitive, eyes squeezing shut and tears spilling out of your mouth as you gag around Namjoon’s length.

The onslaught of both of them all at once flooding your senses, Jungkook’s hesitant touch changing so abruptly to eating you out like a man starved, the fullness of Namjoon’s cock in your mouth, thrusting gently to pleasure himself with your mouth, was far too much. You were never one to cum very quickly but then again, you’d never been with two men at once, either. The orgasm Jungkook manages to force out of you is short, but intense. Namjoon lets go of your hands and pulls himself from your mouth when he realizes you’re cumming, letting Jungkook hear the rough, shocked cries of pleasure as you thrash on the bed under his tongue, clenching rhythmically around his fingers.

“Fuck!” You gasp, coming down from your high, your thighs clamping shut as your lower body twists away from Jungkook, “Jungkook, you’re...you’re so good at that! Damn, baby..” You sigh, hand slipping between your thighs, cupping your still throbbing center as you moan out to him, “Oh, baby.”

He grins up at you, licking the last of your orgasm from his lips, brow quirking, “Baby?” He asks and your eyes open again to look down at him. “I’m not a baby.” He tells you, cocking his head to the side as he looks up at you, holding himself up on his hands on the mattress, arms flexing, pecs bulging. You have to admit he definitely doesn’t look like a baby. But his resistance of the pet name makes you smile nonetheless, reaching out to stroke his cheek tenderly.

“My baby.” You tell him sweetly, biting your lower lip. You can tell immediately by the way his jaw ticks and one of his brows lift that he’s going to challenge that, and it excites you all over again.

“Hyung,” Jungkook doesn’t take his eyes off of you as he addresses Namjoon who was watching the two of you, amused, as he steps out of his sweatpants and boxers. “If there was something you had in mind, I hope you don’t mind waiting.”

Namjoon lets out a laugh, cock in his fist, and makes a sweeping motion to you as he tells Jungkook, “Be my guest.”

Jungkook reacts fast, faster than you can think, and he’s over you in an instant, wrestling your arms into his grasp easily and pinning both of your hands above your head. He positions himself between your legs and thrusts inside easily, your previous orgasm loosening you up for his cock. You groan loudly at the intrusion, lifting your legs instinctively around his waist as he begins to rock against you, deep and slowly. Each thrust is calculated precisely, his groin rubbing right up against your clit, slick from his tongue, and he situates your arms so he’s pinning you down by your hands, interwoven with his own.

He muffles your cries of pleasure with his mouth, smothering you with a passionate kiss as he continues to fuck you deep and slow. When he releases your hands, you grip desperately at his sides, trying to pull him even deeper into you, but Jungkook pulls away entirely, slipping out of you.

“On your knees.” He says, cock in his hand and swirling his opposite finger in a circle to direct you. You do as he says without hesitation, flipping over onto your hands and knees, and Jungkook grips your hips, turning you so you’re facing the other side of the bed where Namjoon stands watching over you.

“Fuck her throat until chokes on it, hyung.” Jungkook tells him through gritted teeth, “I”m going to make her cum once more for me before you get your turn with her.”

Jungkook waits, hands kneading your hips, the blunt tip of his length prodding around at your entrance but not yet making it’s way inside. Namjoon steps up closer to you, stroking your jaw, slipping his thumb into your mouth to part your lips and then he presses the head of himself onto your tongue, eyes locked on your own.

Once you’ve gotten most of him into your mouth, Jungkook presses into you from behind and it’s the strength of his thrusts rocketing you forward that fucks your mouth across Namjoon. He holds still, gripping your hair in a makeshift ponytail to keep it out of his way so he can see you. Jungkook’s bruising grip on your hips finally lets up, and he claps a hand down hard on your ass as it bounces back against his groin.

“You’re my baby.” Jungkook tells you gruffly, “You’re my little bitch tonight, aren’t you? Fuck, you take my cock so well.” His eyes trail up from his cock disappearing into your heat, over your shoulder, trying to see as your mouth slips over Namjoon’s cock in time to the rhythm of his thrusts. The sight makes Jungkook feel powerful when he hear his hyung moan, his hand tightening on his grip in your hair. 

Namjoon pulls out before he can finish down your throat, slapping you across your gaping mouth with his length, slick with your drool, and you moan, arching back harder into Jungkook.

With Namjoon taking a break, Jungkook changes the angle of his position, leaning back and pounding into you harder, faster. He reaches around one of your spread thighs and rubs furiously at your clit, your pussy clenching in response around his dick.

“Cum for me,” He tells you roughly, “Cum on my cock like the dirty little slut that you are.”

You gasp, the roughness of his thrusts and the insistent rubbing of your clit coupled with the harshness of his words were building up inside of you, ready to boil over. You had already cum once and needed more, however. So you reach out with one hand, nearly falling onto your face as Jungkook ruthlessly fucks you harder, almost losing your balance, but Namjoon is there to grasp your hand in his own and keep you upright.

Helplessly, you paw at the man in front of you, and Namjoon bends down to your flailing mouth to hear you gasp, “Your mouth, Joonie...”

He somehow knows exactly what you need, and as he slides upside down underneath you, in a 69 position, Jungkook slows his thrusts and shifts out of the way to make room for him. You double over, taking Namjoon’s cock back into your mouth as he licks delicately, expertly at your clit, just the way you liked it. Jungkook, for all his enthusiasm, lacked the knowledge of your sensitive spots but with Namjoon’s help, you manage to give the younger man what he sought after.

The feel of you cumming on his cock sends Jungkook over the edge, and he slams his hips into you roughly, spilling his cum deep inside of you while Namjoon licks and sucks at the sensitive bundle of nerves above his head, one hand massaging the younger man’s balls as he empties them inside of you.

You use your hand, moaning and gasping as you try to keep repeatedly swallowing his cock, and Namjoon cums, finally, the salty, bitter taste filling your mouth and spilling out around his thighs as you gag and sputter to swallow it all down.

Panting, the three of you untangle, sweating and messy. Jungkook falls on his back on the end of the bed, stretched out in all his naked glory, eyes shut, smiling at the ceiling. Namjoon is the first to stand, as you cuddle up at Jungkook’s side, head resting on his heaving chest. He cleans himself off with a tissue, smiling fondly at the two of you.

“I didn’t know Jungkookie would steal you away from me tonight, y/n.”

You open your eyes in time to see Jungkook crack open just one of his, lifting his head to give his hyung a sleepy smile. “Yes, you did.” He says.

Namjoon laughs, shaking his head, “Aish. Fine. I knew. I’m glad you both had fun, but don’t fall asleep too soon.” He offers you both a quick wink before he heads off to shower.

[virgilantejustice]

Overheated

I probably should have posted this a while ago but anywho i wrote this as part of a secret santa for the wonderful @broadwaygoddess-fandoms!!

Word count: ~2600

Ships: none!

T/Ws: i don't think there are any but tell me if im wrong

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

      Roman was lying down.

      Well, Roman /had been writing, then drawing, then singing, then writing again, and his brain had gotten overheated. 

      Perhaps that was a rather strange way of describing it (or so he had been told), but that was the term that he used. Too many thoughts spinning and spinning and kinetic turns to thermal and boom. Overheated.

      So, he had gone on a walk, that was what those annoying 💓positivity accounts💕💗 always said. 

      But, of course, walking means thinking and thinking means more thoughts and more heat and so Roman had just laid down on the edge of the park that he had been walking past.

      Or maybe fallen over.

      Or both. 

      He didn't really care. The grass was soft and the sun was dancing on the inside of his eyelids. He could hear birds and cars and the whizzing of those insistent buggers that still lingered in his brain. 

      And a man.

      "Goodness gracious, are you injured? Should I call an ambulance?"

      Aha! After, well, some amount of time, someone actually stopped. That someone sounded half concerned and half like it was an instinct more than empathy, like just an automatic response.

      "Nah," Roman said, dismissively swatting at the figure with one rather pathetically raised hand.

      "Nah?" The man repeated, the word sounding foreign on his tongue.

      "Nah," Roman confirmed.

      "So, why are you just lying there?"

      Roman sighed, moving his left hand to lay on his stomach rather than at his side. "Why aren't you?" he breathed.

      The man spluttered indignantly (people really do that in real life? (well, Roman wasn't one to judge)) "I have places to be," he demanded, probably tugging on the front of a blazer or straightening his tie if Roman could be bothered to open his eyes to check but goodness gracious did he sound like the kind of guy who would wear a tie. 

      Roman was a little confused as to why the man sounded so adamant, why would he care if Roman didn't believe that he had some oh-so-important appointment to keep?

      "Really?"

      "Well," the man's voice faltered (huh, weird, one word cracked the stone right in half, and whaddaya know there was blood), "I have things I need to do."

      Oh god, he was probably tugging on his blazer again, or straightening his glasses.

      "Need?" Roman replied lazily, drawing out the vowel for no real reason. "You /need to do them? Do they really /need to be done?"

      "I need to go and buy groceries as a matter of fact. So yes." Despite the gravity with which he said those words, the man apparently succumbed to gravity and sat down next to Roman.

      Roman opened one eye and looked at the man. He looked, exactly how he had expected him to look, with his legs neatly crossed and his hands in his lap.

      "Oh, fact. It's a matter of fact, is it?" he teased.

      "What else would it be?" The man's voice had lost some of its bite, becoming the more soothing, low voice that Roman expected that it was meant to be.

      "A matter of consequence?" Roman suggested.

      "What would be the consequences?" The man asked. Roman was rather beginning to like this man's voice now. It was similar to his own.

      "You would have groceries," Roman shrugged (it turns out that it is surprisingly hard to shrug while lying down). Then Roman stopped and frowned slightly. "That's what you're after isn't it? Well, I suppose that consequences aren't always negative, they just have a bad reputation."

      The man made a small noise in the back of his throat, that contemplative look still on his face, his legs neatly crossed and his hands in his lap.

-

      About a million years later (or, y'know, ten minutes), Roman heard more footsteps coming towards him. The were light, yet strangely uneven. The footsteps stopped for a while, and Roman could feel their gaze lingering on him. He sighed.

      "Uh…."

      Ah, so it was another man. That was really all Roman had to go on at that particular time. He didn't want to open his eyes just yet.

      "What's your name?" this new man asked in a rather growly voice. In fact, Roman had never heard a voice be so growly and yet so timid at the same time.

      "Why do you want to know," he asked lazily.

      "I-"

      Before this new man could answer, Roman reached out a foot and kicked him gently (well, sort of gently) with one of his steel capped boots.

      "Ow!" The man exclaimed, scuffling backwards. Roman imagined him hopping around and holding his foot and felt a smile tighten his cheeks.

      "Burned by iron!" Roman exclaimed, accompanying his words with dramatic hand movements, but the effect was probably muted somewhat by the fact that he was lying on the ground. "You shan't take my name Fairy!" he declared.

      "You kicked my shin!" the man cried, probably throwing his hands up in exasperation.

      Roman paused for a moment. "…Technicalities," he muttered, casting the notion away with a sweep of his hand.

      It was silent for a bit, and Roman wouldn't have been surprised if the man had walked away, judging by his quiet his footsteps had been. But, on the other hand, he would have been a little surprised that he would be so boring.

    �� "You, think i'm a fairy?" he asked, the faintest trace of a smile in his voice.

      "Are you not a fairy?" Roman asked back. Not boring then.

      "No!" the other exclaimed, probably holding a hand on his chest in indignation.

      Roman's brows creased. "How do you know?"

      "I'd rather be a vampire." Endearing, he sounded so excited.

      Roman cracked one eye open. Scratch the whole 'throwing hands up in exasperation' and 'a hand on his chest in indignation' thing, they were probably in his hoodie pockets the whole time. 

      "Well, you certainly look the part," he muttered, opening his other eye and scanning the figure above him.

      The man sat down heavily next to Roman, his long legs strewn out and his hands propping himself up behind him. "Thank you," his said.

      "Isn't the sun burning you then?"

      The man paused for a moment, tensing up, but then he relaxed onto his hands. "Nah. I'm way too powerful."

      "More powerful than the sun?" Roman asked, getting up onto his elbows in surprise. "I suppose it is possible," he muttered, laying back down, "in a realm with vampires and fairies."

      The man made a small noise of agreement, bringing one leg towards him with the other strewn out and propping himself up with his hands behind him.

-

      "Are you okay?"

      Wow, that was quick! Or not, again, Roman wasn't really sure.

      "Probably," he replied, feeling that it was an appropriate response when regarding the thought that had popped into his head when he had heard the new voice, unsure-ity. 

      Probably not all that helpful for the other without that little bit of context but, y'know.

      The new man (another man, huh) took a few steps closer, the sounds of his steps changing from hard taps on concrete to the soft rustle of grass. "What's wrong?" he asked in a gentle voice, like melted chocolate mixed with milk.

      Roman had been asked a direct question, and decided to give a direct answer (this time). "Brain overheated."

      "Oh i understand!" Roman wasn't quite sure why he believed that, but he did. "I get a little fried sometimes too." The man stopped, and Roman could picture his brows creasing slightly as he chuckled "I don't normally lie on the side of a road though."

      "What do you do?" *please don't say go on walks please don't say go on walks please don't say go on wa-* 

      "Bake?" A tentative suggestion.

      "You can bake?" 

      This question became slightly redundant when Roman opened his eyes to look up at the man. Of course he could bake! No one looks or dresses like that and then can't bake!

      "I like to think I can," the man shrugged, sitting down with his legs slanted to the side because of course he sits with his legs slanted to the side!

      "That's nice," Roman said, closing his eyes again and running a hand through his hair, doing absolutely nothing to change the way that it flopped backwards (he was lying down after all). "I'm sure you're very good."

      The man beamed so bright Roman could see it through his closed eyes, along with him clasping his hands under his chin because that just something that this guy would do. "Aw! You're sweet."

      "Was that a pun?" Obviously he makes puns too! How could Roman not have foreseen this!

      "Not one of my strongest I'll ad-mitt! Get it? Like an oven mitt!" The man sounded so excited! Puns were like gold to him!

      Roman paused for a moment, thinking. Then he opened his eyes again. "Words are powerful tools. And you use them to create lighthearted humour." The man's smile faded slightly and what was left turned sheepish. "That is admirable."

      The man smiled a bemused sort of smile and tilted his head to the side like a puppy (/because of course he did-). "To make puns?" he asked, his ever-present smile lingering in his voice.

      And, one commander of words to another, Roman said, "to use words in a way cleverer than most people think."

      The man hummed in a way that was half pensive and half proud, resting his hands on his knees that were slanted to the side.

-

      "What are you doing?"

      Another man? Either it was human nature to stop when you see someone lying down outside and so everyone was stopping, or it had been several years and Roman was losing his sense of passing time. Either one was likely to be honest. 

      "Laying in the grass next to a pavement on the edge of a park," Roman replied blankly. "What does it look like I'm doing?"

      "Something totally normal, obviously."

      If Roman's eyes were open, he would have narrowed them. This man's voice just didn't sound, real. It sounded straight out of an old movie.

      "Not really," he said. And if it /was normal then he was living in a very different world to this new man.

      "Really?" Okay, Roman was pretty sure that /this one placed a hand on his chest in indignation. "I see people lying in the grass next to pavements on the edges of parks all the time."

      Roman would have narrowed his eyes even further. "I don't think you do," he said in a suspicious voice.

       The man gasped and Roman began to ponder if everyone whom he had come across (or, more who had come across him) was a cartoon character? (Again, he was in no place to judge).

      "Distrust?" The man gasped, his voice still dripping that sarcasm that made Roman figuratively narrow his eyes. "After all of this time we've known each other?"

      "Thousands of years cannot build trust with someone with a twisted tongue," Roman said with a wave of his hand.

      The man snorted in a laugh that Roman never would have expected. "You think my tongue is twisted?" he asked, laughter still hiding somewhere in the corners of his words. "Shall we just pretend to ignore how sexual that sounds?"

      "Why?" Roman whined. People were so exhausting about this kind of thing. Or maybe he'd been spending too much time with his brother.

      Roman opened his eyes, and his first thought upon seeing this man's style was just 'yes'. Just, yes. Dark and classy and yes-

      "Most normal people tend to," the man shrugged.

      "I think we've established how un-normal this situation is."

      "You certainly are rather, eccentric." And despite the slight teasing in the man's tone, he sat down next to Roman, then lay down with his head resting on his hands.

      "Finally a truth!" Roman declared, holding one accusing finger in the air.

      The man chuckled, Roman guessed it was through slightly pursed lips. "It may have been," he said with mock-guiltiness.

      Roman finally did narrow his eyes because they were still open. "But how is one to know a truth in a world of lies."

      The man hummed in exasperated agreement, joining Roman in staring up at the sky, with his head resting on his hands.

-

      "Why hello dear brother."

      Well, it was another man, that much was for sure, but this time it was one that Roman knew, whether he liked it or not. Kidding! He liked his brother well enough.

      "Greetings mortal," he replied, waving his hand in an imperious gesture.

      "As far as you know," Remus muttered. 

      Roman still had his eyes closed, so he wasn't sure why Remus fell silent, but for a little while he did. This was, unusual behavior, to say the least. Roman let the arm that was resting over his eyes to fall to his side, and was about to open his eyes when his brother said, "Brain fried again?"

      Roman had learned his lesson with the last man to come by and he opened his eyes so that he could narrow them at the crude term for his incredibly technical issue. 

      "Overheated, I'll have you know," he said, with fake bitterness in his voice.

      Remus fell heavily on the grass beside Roman, spreading his legs into nearly a split and leaning forwards to prop his head up on his elbows in a position that Roman could not fathom to be comfortable. 

      "Either way i bet it would taste great with gravy," he said, a small smile on his face.

      Roman sat up and wrinkled his nose. "Cooked brain?" he asked, half disgusted and half pensive. He thought for a moment. "I suppose."

      Remus's eyes crinkled into a smile at that and Roman /really didn't want to ask why he looked so sure.

      However hard he tried with his newly cleared head, Roman could not think of a more delicate way to ask the question that was in his brain. But, then again, Remus wasn't exactly one for delicacy.

      "What are you doing here?"

      "Mushy head," Remus whined, falling backwards and sticking his legs right up into the air before letting them fall back to the ground with a thud.

      Well, Roman supposed that they both had rather strange terms for it.

      "Ah," Roman sighed. He finally sat up, listening to the symphony of cracks and pops emanating from his stiff back and stretching his arms. "Would you like to lie here?" He asked, rolling himself into a crouch. "I think I'm feeling better now." He stood up and shook out his legs. It turns out, lying still for several hours really stiffens the joints, huh.

      Remus drew his arms back in and rolled over into the spot where Roman had previously been lying. "If it's nice and warm for me," he giggled.

      "Have fun."

      Roman turned to go, but then remembered something and turned back. "There are some fascinating people who walk past here," he said, his eyes slightly unfocused, "If you dont scare them off you might get some good conversation."

      "Scare them? Me? Never!" Remus declared, laying a hand on his chest in offence. His eyes were already closed. "Perhaps unsettle…."

      "See you soon, Brother Dear," Roman called over his shoulder as he took off down the road.

      A shout came from behind him, making the people walking perpetually down that road stare. "Make sure you don't boil your brain again!"

      The sensible part of Roman was nodding sensibly in sensible agreement, but, Roman had an idea for something he wanted to write, and he had just the four characters for it. (And let's face the facts, the sensible part of Roman was very, very small).

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

Taglist (tell me jf you want to be added or removed): @celeste-tyrrell @uwillbeefoundtonight @hopeoncelivedhere @stop-it-anxiety @soakinforsif @combine-the-kitchens @randomavengersquotes

[annaisu]

A Chance, A Change

Written for the @uraichievents​ 2019 event, even though I’d planned on skipping today. However, I had the idea, and it refused to sit without being written down. That said, it’s still on the smaller side, but it would make a fantastic prologue/part 1… Enjoy!

Words - 1,402 Tags - Time Travel, Near Character Death, The Main Character is in somewhat of a panic and nobody could blame him

There was a hollow by the riverbed. It reared over two human figures – both smaller than the monster, but one small enough it could only be a child. The taller human was desperately covering the child, the last dregs of spirit energy seeping out of her as if from an invisible yet lethal wound.

The moment snapped into motion. The heavy paws of the beast swung down, the woman let out a sound of despair, the kid screamed, and Ichigo – Ichigo flashed across the space between them in a desperate half-step, not knowing where he was or who they were but knowing that he could stop this.

Blood sprayed through the air as Zangetsu tore through the hollow’s arms, sending the hands thudding to the ground even as Ichigo moved into his second attack and split the mask clean in two. Time slowly started to return to normal as Ichigo stared down at the dying hollow.

There was no way Ichigo could ever forget the face of his mother’s killer. Rain fell from the sky, dripping down his face and the dissolving body of the monster that had forever changed his young self’s life. Kurosaki Masaki was free now, her soul released from this hollow echo of life and no doubt heading to soul society. Madly, Ichigo wondered exactly how the process of life and death worked, whether he could scour all of Soul Society’s districts until he found his beloved mother-

“Ahh~” a weak voice half laughed, half sobbed. “What timing that all was.” Ichigo spun around, eyes widening as he recognized the voice and came face to face with the woman he had just saved. “First a hollow, then my strength was stolen, and then a savior appears!” Kurosaki Masaki let out a laugh that immed iately turned into choking coughs, and the next thing Ichigo knew was his knees and legs getting soaked as he knelt on the ground beside this impossibility.

“Mom?” He asked weakly, unsure of what the hell was going on, but it was undoubtedly his mom in front of him right now. His mom, who managed to stop her coughing long enough to look up at him with a confused smile crossing her face, before she passed out.

Ichigo panicked.

-

Ichigo can barely recall what he did in the next ten minutes. His thoughts are just barely half-formed blurs. Oh shit, mom’s hurt! What the hell mom is alive to be hurt! Stupid geta-boushi always has answers and can heal- Wait was I really this tiny once? They’re both so light… We’re here, wait what do I say, holy shit could I know more about what’s going on than Urahara does??

The door of the shouten slid open and the shopkeeper stepped into the doorframe. “She’s hurt,” Ichigo blurted out. “There was a hollow - but it didn’t do this, so I don’t know what’s wrong with mom!” He held his mom out in his arms, careful not to dislodge the boy on his back.

A mad part of Ichigo laughed as the shopkeeper froze, fan halfway to his mouth. The man recovered quickly, however, taking a half step back and gesturing for Ichigo to head into the shop. “Maa, best bring her in then. How long ago was this?”

“I- a couple minutes?” Ichigo guessed. “I brought her here as quickly as I could, but I didn’t get there in time to see what happened to her. I just- appeared right before the hollow would have torn her open.” Ichigo swallowed heavily, gently laying Kurosaki Masaki out where Urahara indicated. “I stopped him from killing her though, so what’s going on?” Ichigo looked over his mom again, trying to figure out what was happening.

It was as if some ephemeral hand had reached into his mother’s soul and ripped out part of who she was, of the strength she used to fight against the whims of fate. Power was torn from the blood running along her veins, and only a desperate trickle remained around her heart, slowly leaking out as well. Ichigo had never seen anything like this before – the closest was when Rukia had meant to give him half of her powers, and he unintentionally stole all of it instead.

The boy on his shoulder stirred slightly, and Ichigo startled. Carefully, he slid the boy off and onto the ground, a ways away from his – their – mother. The pale face, creased in pain, was a distorted reflection of Ichigo’s own face, and still Ichigo could barely comprehend what was happening here. How the hell was this all happening?

As if in response to her child’s pain, Masaki’s eyes fluttered open. “Ichi-go?” She managed to gasp out, and Ichigo instinctively moved forward.

“Mom?” He asked, before checking himself. She meant his younger self. “I- he’s okay, just knocked out.” Despite knowing that he had been fine in his own past version of these events, Ichigo double checked on his younger self. “I think the burst of power just knocked him out.”

Masaki relaxed, and despite her obvious pain, the tension flooded entirely out of her body. “Good. That’s- that’s wonderful. Thank you for saving him.”

“Ah, save your energy, Kurosaki-san,” Urahara interrupted. “Do you know why this happened?” Wait- Urahara knew his mom?

His mother’s eyes darkened in anger. “Ywach. Power- he took from the impure- mixed Quincy.” Despite the evident difficulty it took to speak, his mother’s words were strong and determined. But- Quincy? What would his human mom know about the race of spirit archers?

Urahara nodded. “I see. Well then, stranger-san, are you willing to help again?” Ichigo looked at the man with the plan, and dared to hope. Could his mother live? Would his mother live? Would he be able to save his mom from his naïve stupidity and keep from tearing away the center of his family’s universe?

He nodded. Urahara beamed, fluttering his little fan, and Ichigo relaxed. No matter what it cost him, there was a solution. “In that case! Please channel some energy for me to examine, please!” Not willing to question the man at a time like this, Ichigo held out his hand and focused, as if he was about to power up an attack but instead just held it there. Urahara leaned forward to look at it more closely, and Ichigo held back from accidently throwing the energy into the man’s face. Urahara hummed, tapping his fan once more, then nodded several times.

“Yes, this shall do quite well! Now then, Stranger-san, I could take some of your spirit and attach it to Kurosaki’s, and it should serve as a shield to protect the last of her power and breathe life back into her energy. Are you willing?” A flinty eye looked up from beneath the rim of the bucket hat, but Ichigo didn’t bother pausing to consider what this would require.

The Shinigami teen interrupted before the shopkeeper could explain any farther. “Just get on with it, Geta-boushi,” he snapped.

“My, my,” Urahara muttered as he did indeed seem to get on with whatever he was doing. “So impatient~”

Several minutes later, Ichigo was hunched over his and his mom’s clasped hands, trying to bear through the foreign sensation of having a part of himself pulled on and out, then grafted onto somebody else. “Focus on protecting and nurturing,” Urahara’s voice came from beside him. “This will work best if you can infuse your very desire for her to live throughout your being.”

Ichigo couldn’t help but laugh despite the strain. “Of course I want her to live,” he whispered. “It’s all I ever wanted as a kid.” His energy was no longer being pulled away from him like a rubber band stretching, pulled from himself into his mother by Urahara’s hand. Rather, his overwhelming desire to protect spread from his heart through all of his power, before concentrating into a single, small section. He would give anything for his mom to live, and his entire being knew this.

Ichigo felt it when part of his soul tore itself away, leaving behind a rough gash in his very self. The pain was minimal compared to his relief as he sensed it bind to Masaki, watched color flood back to her pale face, and knew that his mother was going to live.

Ichigo leaned back against a nearby wall, covered his face, and laughed until he cried.

[soybeantree]

the world to me

pairing: jaebum x (reader) genre/warning: fluff word count: 1941 description: a little marriage fluff never hurt anyone. based on got7′s “you are” from their new album 7 for 7.

A questionably long kiss for being in public. Pained cheeks haphazardly covered in icing. Group dances that would no doubt look embarrassing later on camera.

Memories that would stay fresh in your mind for years you hoped. Well maybe not the way your cousin had tried to lead a line dance, which she had no room doing, that much was clear to everyone in the large reception hall. Still, regardless of the few not so planned moments (and months worth of stress that you supposedly weren’t suppose to feel) the wedding had gone of without a hitch. Beautiful and serene. Large enough to incorporate both families and a speckling of friends, without become a huge production that neither you nor your new husband wanted.

Husband.

You could call him that now. After the near year long engagement tacked onto almost four years of seeing one another you could now call the wonderful man next to you yours. Well legally by law. He had been yours’ for some time now. A fact surprisingly he liked to point out quite often.

His dark hair was coming out of its coiffed design, softening tendrils now laying more lax against his forehead. Turning to face him now, you find the view just as stunning as the one outside your plane window. Glistening blue ocean separating islands as far as you could see held no candle to Jaebum in your opinion. Not in the slightest.

The man in question was staring intently at his phone, one earpiece of his headphone snug, the other, turned away and facing you, in case you spoke to him. But the two of you hadn’t said a word to one another for the past hour or so and that was okay. Content to stare out the window, your mind drifting, you didn’t feel the need to fill the space with meaningless chatter. And neither did he. A similarity that drew you to one another even from the beginning. Besides, the two of you would have the rest of your lives together to talk. The rest of your lives and this two week honeymoon you were currently embarking on.

So that was why while you had been observing your near approaching destination, Jaebum had been writing. Something you knew he couldn’t stop doing, even though you had told him no work on this trip. And although you didn’t want him to stress, he had assured you before you left he wasn’t going to be. But you knew that when the mood struck him he couldn’t stop himself. He had to get it out. And with the look adorning his face through half the flight you figured this song in particular would be a good one.

The pilot’s voice reverberated over the speaker and you watched your new husband look up from his device. His lips pausing in their silent march. As if feeling your eyes he turned to face you, a smile lifting the corner of his mouth, an eyebrow raising in silent question. You simply shook your head, grasping then squeezing the hand that was now moving towards yours.

“We’re almost there.” You whispered. Eyes smiling he leaned in to ghost a kiss across your lips. Deciding to finish his work later he powered his phone down. Then leaning over the arm rest he placed his chin on your shoulder, content to watch the island approach as the aircraft descended. Your home for the next 14 days.

Turns out you were to be trapped inside that beachfront property for more time than you thought, and it wasn’t the good “after marriage” time. It was the “someone forgot to fully hammer down the walkway to the beach thus endangering the guest in such a way that one would nearly break their ankle” time.

The first few days had been spectacular. A dream during the moments you left your rental to explore the ocean and small town that found it’s livelihood by it. And the moments you didn’t leave, well those were also quite dreamlike in their own way. Spectacular really. But on your fourth day there, heading to the beach for a snorkel session, your shoe snagged on a loose plank and down you went. Quite dramatically for not breaking anything and Jaebum in his chuckling hadn’t known you were hurt until he observed the grimace on your face. A trip to a nearby clinic resulted in you being advised to stay off it for the next week. At least. You had argued you only had a short time here but the island doctor simply shrugged, guilty that he couldn’t do much more for you.

Jaebum, as loving as he was, tried to make your time inside as nice as possible. The first day he had opened the patio doors completely to let in as much of the ocean breeze as possible, but by the second day you were hobbling outside. Determined to spend as much time outside; you didn’t let your ankle, those stupid crutches, or a mothering Jaebum keep you from sitting in the sun. It was for yourself but a large part of you felt sorry for your husband. This trip was as much for him as it was for you. But he would never tell you he was upset. To be quite honest he probably would have been sitting there next to you the entire trip. But it was your honeymoon. It wasn’t just a normal weekend and you wanted it to count.

“Babe?” His reply was a soft grunt, not looking up from the notebook in his lap.

“Do you want to go down to the water?” Silence was your answer. Once again you felt bad for bother him, but this trip was about relaxing. His music could wait a couple days.

“Im Jaebum.” Confused eyes met your own, the sharper tone of your voice bringing him into the conversation finally. “Can we go down to the water? Will you help me?”

You could read the hesitancy in his eyes as he reclined back in his chair, his back no down stiff from hunching over that darned notebook for the past hour. Clearly he didn’t want to risk something bad happening to you to worsen your injury, but you’d take cutting your own leg off to the boredom floating around your restless mind.

“Please.” You whined. You weren’t ashamed. If it got the two of you closer to that beautiful ocean. If it got your husband to relax from being a mother hen for five seconds you would do it.

His sigh was expected. No doubt battling with himself about the possibilities. What was not expected was how quickly he gave in. How he set down his things and moved to help you back into the house.

“What do you want to bring?”

Boredom must have been killing him as well. Or perhaps a writer’s block. That would be the only thing that could explain why the two of your were hobbling your way down the pathway towards the water. You holding your bag of goodies and Jaebum holding you. On his back. Much to your insistence that you would be fine leaning on him. The stench of male pride was so strong in that moment that you decided to relent.

“Right over there.” You pointed. “We can put the blanket there and it won’t be too close to the water, just in case of the tide.”

Angling the two of you towards your indicated spot your husband softly grunted. The sand under his feet making it more difficult to not jostle you. It was sweet, his attempt to get you there without straining yourself, but completely unnecessary.

“Let me down here. I can make it.” You could drag yourself through the sand if he would just let you. He ignored you, walking the next few yards before stopping to set you down.

“This good?” Noticing the beginning of sweat on his forehead you just nodded. You would let Jaebum work out whatever providing instinct his alpha male tendency needed to prove. Besides you weren’t too opposed to being the doting wife if it came to that.

After laying out the blanket he helped you maneuver into a position that was the most comfortable before sitting down himself. The sea air smelled better now that you were closer. An over dramatic exaggeration most likely from your part but you didn’t care. You finally felt like you were back on your honeymoon. Next to you Jaebum was clearing items out of the bag, snacking on the occasional piece of fruit he came across. The light of the sun hit him square on and although you were never one for long standing prose, you felt at that moment you could run with the best of them in waxing poetically.

Thoughts of gratitude and peace flew through your mind as it hit you again that this was your husband. This kind caring man who would do anything for you.

“I love you.” You blurted out. Once again his started eyes met yours. It wasn’t that the two of you never confessed your feelings for each other, but neither of you were ever PDA heavy. Nor did you tend to blurt things out without a preceding reason.

But as your words sank in his face fell softly. Stopping what he was doing he moved towards you. A long arm wrapped around your waist, gently pulling you into his side. The other following a hand to your cheek, sliding around your neck. He held you there, suspended in time now that his smiling eyes stared into yours. And that’s were you stayed for what felt like years, but was probably only minutes. His eyes scanning everywhere on your face. Not wanting to miss any detail that he had truly cataloged long ago. But as if he was seeing you again in a new light, the sun framing you from behind in a golden hue. The blue sky the perfect vibrant backdrop. This moment that he wished he could freeze and save forever.

“You didn’t say it.” His lips quirked up in warning.

“What?”

“You know. We talked about this.” The confusion causing creases in your eyebrows relaxed as you realized where his train of thought was leading.

“I didn’t technically agree to that.” Unconsciously your eyes rolled in mock annoyance and in response his right hand tightened around your neck. He pulled you closer to him as his thumb teasingly stroked your skin.

“Come on. How about just this once?” Although he voice was pleading you took note of the predatory glint in his eyes.

It was the look of him that broke you. He was so beautiful sometimes that you could actually cry. Crazy. But it was almost unfair most days how he could wake up so ridiculously good looking. So relaxed and rumpled but still as if he could walk right into a photo shoot. It was that look coupled with the fluttering in your chest as he continued to stroke your now warming skin.

“I love you...husband.” The response in his posture was immediate. His back straightened and the teeth that were previously torturing his lower lip now filled his smiling mouth. It was as his eyes disappeared into charming little creases and his hands were pulling you closer towards him that you heard it. Barely a whisper over the waves crashing next to you, Jaebum’s lips a little more than a breath from yours.

“And I love you, wife.”

[parkjmini]

Precarious // 7

mafia!bts: park jimin precarious: adj. dangerously insecure or unstable Psychotic, that’s how he viewed himself. He was a precise hitman who never made a mistake, until now. Set on an all kill mission, he brings back more than just blood stains. word count: 2183 warnings: explicit language, fluff? maybe?? 

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summer is here now so i hope i will be able to update more frequently ((: pls let me know if i should add smut to this story bc im torn ive never written it b4 but it could fit well in some parts ??!!

The many floors disappeared under your feet. The elevator shooting up smoothly. The glass was clear all around you. Tiny people scattered below and became out of sight. The elevator was rather frightening because it was window all over, even under your shoes.

It stopped and a ding noise caught your attention. Jimin was on his phone the entire time, scrolling through emails and text messages. Several business men stepped inside, carrying briefcases and neck ties secured at their collars. Another stop followed with another ding. The elevator was slowly becoming crowded. 

The men eyed you with a mischievous glisten. An uncomfortable chill ran down your spine and you followed their many eyes to your slightly exposed chest. The dress was cut low, but Jimin said he really liked you in it. 

Peering over, Jimin was still glued to his cell. He felt your pleading stare and he looked up. His eyebrows knitted together at your expression of help and slyly checked the other expressions of the business men. 

Rolling his eyes, he scooted over in front of you and blocked the view of anyone else. His chest was pressed up against yours. Your eyes drinking up his own. His scent wrapped around you. His arm was placed at the side of your head, the other holding his phone so he can continue his previous business.

It was the first time you’ve been so close to him. Even sleeping, you two kept a good distance away from another. This position though, there was no personal space. You were so close that you felt his soft pulse of his heart; you could see every pore on his porcelain face. 

Your back was pressed up against the glass window to make room for Jimin to squeeze in front of you. As he was distracted by his device, you rested your head in the crook of his neck. His cologne filled your nose, musky and cool. He tensed up and turned his head to gazed upon your sudden affection.

He gulped and looked away. He shoved his phone into his back pocket and drew you closer, which you didn’t think was even possible. His hand held you by your arm and his cheek pressed against the top of your head.

You two stood like that for a few more floors and you contemplated about what your new life has become, how you ended up in Jimin’s arms.

“When you said you were going to take me somewhere, I didn’t know you meant you were going to take me out to lunch.” You whispered across the fancy dining table that was draped with a beautiful pearl tablecloth.

He smiled and you pretend that it didn’t shock you. His grin was stunning; the right amount of elegance and charm traced his curve. “Why are we whispering?” He leaned forward as well to answer you, his voice never above a hush.

The restaurant was at the very top floor with massive windows instead of walls. The other diners wore lavish dresses and nice suits. You sat with Jimin in a white sundress and him in a casual hoodie and black ripped jeans. It was relatively quiet, the only noise being the jazz music that played softly in the background.

“Are you sure we won’t get kicked out for under dressing?” You glanced around as a waiter approached your table. 

“I don’t think they’d dare to.” Jimin relaxed into the red cushioned chair. The waiter unraveled your silver utensils from their cloths and carefully arranged them next to the plate.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Park. How may I be at your service?” He bowed and you couldn’t hide your amusement. Jimin smirked and folded his hands in his lap.

“The usual and strawberry champagne in the cooler.” The waited nodded and hurried away.

“Well if I knew it was going to turn out like that, I wouldn’t have regretted wearing this dress.” You groaned.

“Aren’t you use to this though? This kind of treatment shouldn’t be new for you.” Jimin shaded and you glared at him before answering.

“Yeah, but my parents always made us dress up despite the occasion. They said that we would get kicked out if we showed up in casual wear. Also, I’ve been stuck in your mansion for the past month that, I guess, I’ve forgotten how it feels to be treated like a high class individual.” You shot back and the only reaction he gave was a yawn.

“But it’s still nothing new. This doesn’t stray far from your previous life.” 

“It’s a little different. I’m sure my family wasn’t as A-list as you guys are.” 

“We’re only A-listers because they know we won’t hesitate to kill them. They’re scared of us.” Jimin kept his voice low and his eyes hooded.

“I’d be scared of you too if I knew the crimes your gang commits.” You said before the waiter came back with a bottle of champagne. He poured it into your tall wine glasses and you could swear you saw the same sparkling bubbles in Jimin’s dark eyes. The bottle of stars reflected against his, thirsty to devour. The universe swimming in the pool of dark brown. It made you forget how hard he shaded you. 

“Strawberry, what a funny choice of flavor.” You sipped the liquid, a strong fruity taste hit your palette and the sweetness covering every inch of your mouth.

“You did say you like fruity drinks.” He remembered from last night. You hid your growing smile behind your fist, afraid that he’d see how happy he just made you. 

Throughout lunch, Jimin couldn’t help, but fidget underneath the table. His sweaty palms twitched at the sight of a loose strand of hair or when your hand was across the table. He craved to touch you again, to be so close he could hardly breath anything else, but your slight fragrance. 

He’d wish days like these would last forever. Jimin could spend hours listening to you speak. He wouldn’t mind staying with you for an eternity, if only you would ask him to. Being in your company relaxed him more than any method of meditation that Namjoon made him practice. 

Your smile, the lovely expression that he hoped to never leave your face. How stunning you looked with creases around your eyes and lines drawn on your cheeks. Thinking about you only fed the flame because it only made him want to be with you. Touching you was a whole different story. 

Feeling your pulse and soft skin under his palms thrilled him uncontrollably. His dopamine levels surpassed the standard high. It was almost unbearable, but how he only wanted more of it. Holding you felt better than killing and that was a feeling he thought nothing would ever top. He often wondered how he would feel if he kissed you. However, those thoughts didn’t last long because it scared him. If he already felt so good by your simple touch, kissing you would make him explode. He wouldn’t be able to control himself. 

After lunch, Jimin drove for hours up a mountain to arrive at a meadow. The clouds were scattered and resembled white streaks in a blue background. A warm breeze ran against your unclothed arms and carried your hair with it. There was nothing, but tall grass and flowers. Hills rose and fell at the horizon. The empty space that surrounded you stretched so far. Civilization was nowhere. Just you, Jimin, and an open area to yourselves.

“What is this place?” You took off your shoes and dangled them from your fingers. You stepped off the rocky road, and onto the soft dancing field. Jimin observed how you twirled in your enticing dress and giggled with complete joy — the happiest he’s ever seen you. So entirely free and let go. So enchanted by nature and wonder.  

“My… well, now, our secret place.” Jimin correct himself shyly and joined you. He allowed the wind to cast him toward you. You lent out your hand for him to take it and with a small hesitation, he took it. Pulling him forward, you guiding him in a simple two-step spin. 

“How did you find it?” You managed to ask in the midst of laughs.

“I drive around a lot to find a perfect place to do meditation.” 

You stopped and jumped. “You meditate?!” Your voice echoed into the vast land that captured you two.

He nodded and you proceeded to plead, “please teach me.”

Jimin walked you deeper into the meadow, to the point where even his car and the road were out of sight. You sat down, criss-crossed, on a random spot on the ground. Jimin followed, sitting directly across from you, and you mimicked what he did with his hands.

“Now, you just close your eyes. Deep breaths and focus on the noises around you.” Your eyes were closed and Jimin saw how your eyebrows creased, concentrating hard on the sounds. 

After a few quiet seconds, you burst into laughter, no longer able to keep the serious facade. Jimin’s laughter mixed in splendidly with your own. 

You opened your eyes and looked behind him, “this is quite a marvelous view.” But even though you thought the view was pretty, Jimin thought you were prettier. 

The two of you must have been there for a really long time. You had watched the sun go down and the baby blue was washed out with a darker, navy sky. The clouds turned into specks of glimmer, reminding you of the champagne you had earlier. 

Jimin laid down next to you, his eyes glued to the galaxies above. The wind flew away and now, you were left with a warm stillness.

“You were right. I do like it here.” You whispered. 

“You’re very predictable.” He answered back. Turning over, you glared at him.

“Oh, am I?” You enticed and Jimin didn’t even bother to acknowledge your new position. He nodded, his head ruffling the grass. 

You had no idea what had come over you, but you kissed him. At first, it was merely to prove a point. But then, Jimin’s hands traveled to your face and you didn’t want him to let go. You didn’t want him to pull away. 

There was a rapid escalation, something that neither one of you could handle. Jimin became passionate and slightly opened his mouth to take you in. He moved, still connected, to be over you. Your back fell to the grass and Jimin held onto your waist. 

A loud ring broke the heated trance, but Jimin didn’t budge. He continued to kiss you, gripping onto every part of your body that he could hold onto. You pulled his collar closer, afraid that he would suddenly stop. Neither one of you cared about the other person on the line, who was urgently trying to come in contact with Jimin.

It was only until whoever it was kept calling and his phone kept going off. “J-Jimin.” You pushed at his shoulders. He groaned aggressively and pulled away. He hovered over you still, just staring down at you. 

You probably looked like a big mess, both of you were breathing so heavily. Your heart rate slowed down from the intense intimate scene. The ringing continued and Jimin, obviously angered and annoyed, pulled out his phone from his pocket. You kissed him one last time for safe measures. He blinked at your expressionless face and leaned back down to peck you again.

His thumb slyly slid the answer button as his lips danced upon yours once more. “Where the fuck are you?!” Namjoon’s voice was low and menacing, causing you two to break the kiss.

“Meditating.” Jimin paused and waited for his boss’ response.

“Get your ass back here. We got business to handle.” With that, the call ended. Jimin’s head fell into his palms and a heavy sigh fell from his swollen lips.

“I’m sorry, we have to go.” Jimin spoke after a few seconds.

“It’s fine. I had a great time today.” You patted his exposed knee and played with the loose thread from his ripped jeans.

“Really?” He analyzed your face, trying to catch any lies that you might have been hiding. 

You embraced him in your short arms and snuggled your tired face in his fleece hoodie. His hot hands held your back and he kissed the top of your head sweetly. “How many times do I have to say it for you to believe me?”

“Three more times.” Jimin smirked, a new and exhilarating sight. 

You clicked your tongue against the roof of your mouth before repeating your previous line three more times, “I had a great time today.”

The pesky notification noise went off again and Jimin checked his device. You peered over and saw the message before he turned off the screen.

“You better be back within the next 10 minutes.” 

Jimin pulled you up by your hand and sprinted to his car. A small sweat droplet lined his brow and you could tell how genuinely terrified he was of Namjoon. 

[revelinrebels]

Get Some Meat On Your Bones

yeh…im not so sure about this title but oh well the first chapter in a small series I wanted to do, If you like this keep an eye out words: 3444 summery:  the ghost crew help Ezra get back on his feet after 8 years on the streets other places to read this: (I own these accounts) fanfiction.net AO3 warnings: vomiting, street life, mentions of genocide, depiction of injury, angst basically please give feedback if you can

This would be his first meal on the ghost, Ezra knew he should take it slow, eat just enough to stave away the worst of his huger, then leave the rest for later. Things usually took a bad turn when he ate too much after practically nothing, and the last few days had been rough, between just general bad luck on the streets and his abrupt adventure with the rebels whose ship he now shared, not to mention his brief imprisonment. Those dratted imperials had even gone to the trouble of taking the yogans he had…. earned, and not even bothered to spare him a few ration bars! Ezra pouted. He hoped they choked on the seeds… By the time he had finished sulking over his lost fruits and looked up, he saw Hera handing Sabine a bowl which she accepted with gratitude before retreating to her room. As the colourful girl stepped lightly past him he could smell the food, it smelt like salt and meat with that undertone of starchiness that all rations had, he could almost taste it. His eyes followed the steaming stew and Sabine rolled her eyes, thinking she was the focus of his gaze, but for once, his mind was elsewhere, revelling in the thought of a hot meal. A hot meal! His mouth watered. He couldn’t count how long it had been since he’d had one of those!

Hera soon arrived at the table where he and Zeb sat, as far as possible from one another. Kanan followed soon after, they both carried two more bowls, each filled with the same protein stew. To his obvious dismay, Zeb was forced to scoot closer to Ezra to allow Kanan and Hera room to squeeze in, his face twisted in a dramatic disgusted snarl. Ezra gave a repulsed grimaced in retort and Hera shot them a look that was gone in two seconds flat, melting back into her companionable smile, but it had been just long enough to scare the pants off of the both of them. Ezra deduced that this little “dinner as a family” thing was Hera’s idea given that her gentle smile looked out of place when put next to Zeb’s scowl and Kanan’s face that somehow managed to convey an air of masked awkwardness and acceptance. Kanan seemed to be good at conveying his feeling through only the slightest expression, or maybe he wasn’t, Ezra thought, maybe it was just this force thing the man liked to babble about, he wasn’t sure. It wasn’t just emotions the Lothali boy had picked up on either, even in the short time he had known the man, Ezra got the impression Kanan sometimes had a hard time saying no to Hera. He was fairly sure he didn’t need the force to see that though. In the corner of his eye he saw Zeb glance at him. he started to envy Sabine and wonder how she got out of this. His thoughts where completely shattered when a bowl and a spoon clinked down on the table in front of him and the tantalizing sent of food flooded his senses with salty promise. Instantly, his earlier rules of taking it slow were forgotten. Kanan watched his newfound apprentice pick up the spoon with enthusiasm and begin to shovel the stew into his mouth. He was about to just roll his eyes and continue with his own meal before a grim thought wormed its way into his head. Now, he didn’t know much at all about Ezra, and he could admit that, no matter his knee jerk reactions at first, he knew the boy was more than just some reckless punk wanting to cause troubled. When Hera had told him that he was an orphan it had added an extra layer to Ezra’s motives that he hadn’t thought to consider before. He grazed a look at the younger boy, who was still intent on his food, and suddenly noticed the hollowness of the lithe teens eyes and his sunken cheeks, even the way he chewed looked awkward. His mind wandered back to the days he had spent rooting through dumpsters after order 66. He remembered the way hunger had clenched at his empty belly with an iron grip and sowed a weariness into his heart that made him snap and lash out if someone came too near. His hand clenched subconsciously around his spoon. “you okay love?” he heard Hera say softly, he didn’t reply but gave her a meaningful glance that made her soft smile stiffen into a line of concern, before turning to speak to Ezra “hey kid, slow down a little” Ezra glanced up at the sound of Kanan’s voice and swallowed the stew in his mouth with a bit of difficulty, his throat had a hard time with food occasionally. What right did this guy have, to tell him how to eat his food? So, in response he just gave an irritated grunt and shot the Jedi a striking blue glare before pulling his bowl closer almost protectively and eating even faster. Even Zeb glanced at that before going back to his own meal, the genocide of his people had ensured he was no stranger to hunger.  They were all rapidly beginning to expect something was going on here.

The stew was amazing, Ezra couldn’t get enough, it was hot and filling, it had been so long since his last bite of food let alone his last decent meal. Ezra couldn’t eat fast enough. But then the stew turned unexpectedly sour in his mouth and his throat refused to swallow the chunks of chewy protein, his stomach, which had once accepted the nutrition thankfully, was churning. He felt the stinging sensation of bile rising in his throat. He stilled his spoon a few centimetres from his mouth. A part of him was hitting itself for forgetting how his stomach had might have shrunk in the last few hungry days. The spoon fell from his hand and into the stew with a plop that splattered the table and caught the attention of the three sentients. Ezra sprang from his seat and ran out the room, grabbing the door frame and using his momentum to skid around the corner and towards the ‘fresher, the location of which he was thankful he knew. It was Kanan who leapt to his feet first followed by the other two, he stalled for a moment, unknowing of what to do. He was quickly snapped out of his daze when the blur of green that was Hera as she dashed past him. He followed hot on her heels. Zeb could only stand dumbfounded, unknowing of what to do, he’d never been any good at this sort of thing but then an idea sparked in his green eyes a and he turned to the small kitchenette in the far side of the room.

*** When Hera turned towards the small room, Kanan lagging a little behind, she saw the door had been left open giving her an immediate view of Ezra hunched over the toilet, throwing up violently. She saw some of it had splashed against his jump suit and the thin white undershirt he wore underneath. He knelt with his legs splayed out every which way and his bangs obscuring his face, it gave her an opportunity to really notice just how sickly he looked, the dry, unhealthy dullness to his hair and the faint rash that seemed to be spreading up his neck. The trembling boy turned his head slightly towards her and Kanan, he looked like he was about to speak to her but snapped his face back towards the toilet coughing and spluttering before once again wrenching, this time bringing up only bile. As the boy coughed and gasped Hera settled down beside him. In some weird, unfamiliar way, Ezra was glad Hera had come, but it also ignited a small spark of fear in his chest, she had an air of gentleness the others seemed to lack, but there was also some sort of anxiety that rose in his throat when he was around her, she was the captain and owner of the ship after all and if she deemed him more trouble than he was worth he’d be dumped back and Lothal without a single yogan stashed away for the fast approaching winter months. They didn’t get much snow on Lothal, but there was a frost that came and settled over the grasslands, hardening the ground and sinking into the bones of those without sufficient shelter. If you didn’t have enough food, you would surely die. What would Hera think of him like this? He was weak and useless, a useless boy that couldn’t even feed himself. He felt her gaze burning into him, why keep him on the ship if he was no use to any- -the thoughts swirling in Ezra’s head dispelled as he felt Hera rubbing a gentle, comforting circle on his back, anything he might have said was interrupted as he once again heaved, but his stomach was empty so all it did was make him choke and splutter, squeezing small tears from his eyes. He gasped in short deep breaths. Ezra heard feet scuffing near the door and gave a sideways glanced to see Kanan still standing where he had been before. He glimpsed Kanan as he stood awkwardly in the door. He had taken his shoulder armour off before dinner and his hair was a little dishevelled from a long day, a few strands had escaped the previously tight pony tail. He had expected the Jedi had come to say something along the lines of I told you so, but then Ezra saw his face, his teal eyes were soft and his eyebrows creased in concern, he wore an almost knowing frown. It was a look of… understanding and empathy. Ezra could most definitely say he hadn’t been expecting that. Kanan stared back at the boy when he caught the deep blue eyes studying him through a drape of greasy blue hair. He let out a sharp breath, at that moment (however inappropriate a moment it was) he felt relief, no matter his insecurity’s and concerns about teaching Ezra, at least he would be fed and sheltered, and in some twisted sense of the word, safe. Hera’s voice brought his attention back to the situation at hand and he noticed Ezra had finally stopped vomiting. He sat next to the twi’lek a hand covering the right side his now pale face. He looked exhausted. “we should get you out of your jumpsuit, and your under shirt as well, I think” he heard her say gently, rubbing soothing circles into Ezra’s back, but then moving her hand away when the boy looked uneased by the simple gesture. He saw her frown but Kanan knew it was because of something other than their newest member’s edginess towards her “I don’t think I saw you bring any more clothes though” he barley heard her murmur, the thought directed at herself. He was trying to think how to solve this new problem before remembering the sleep top he had accidently shrunk a in a wash cycle. “I have something that should fit, hold up a minute” Hera regarded thankfully him with a small nod, but when he looked at Ezra, the boy’s blue eyes swirled with confusion. He found himself dwelling on that as he walked briskly to his cabin Hera watched Kanan leave before turning back to the newly named spectre six. He sat with his knees pulled into his chest and he was fixated on the wall outside that could be seen through the still open bathroom door. He didn’t seem to be bothered at all by the state of his clothes, but Hera was sure it couldn’t be comfortable. He had looked distant but when she shifted so that she was crouching on the balls of her feet his blue eyes darted too her as quick as a pouncing loth-cat. Hera did her best to give the gentlest smile she could “why don’t you get your jumpsuit off and I can wash it for you” Ezra still didn’t speak, but his wary gaze seemed to soften a little. They stared at each other for a few seconds before Hera heard him murmur a quick thanks and reach a hand behind his back to fumble with the zip of his clothes. She breathed a small relived sigh as Ezra struggled to pull his arms from the tight sleeves of his scruffy attire. Talking to the kid in this state was like trying to heard tookas. Kanan rounded the corner as Ezra stepped out of the pile of orange fabric leaving him in his sick tainted under shirt and thin black trousers. He was holding a loose cream coloured sleep shirt that looked small enough to fit his padawan. As Hera gathered the dirty suit off the ‘fresher floor he extended the bundled shirt to the boy. Ezra reached almost tentatively towards the soft material. When he had it in his hands he grasped it so hard his knuckles went white, as if someone were about to steal it, but then his darting eyes glanced towards her and his grip loosened “I will- “he broke off to cough, trying to lose the hoarseness in his throat “-I’ll give it back later” Kanan gave a wry chuckle “it’s not like it fits me, kid” he countered with slight amusement in his voice “besides, it’ll do you as sleep clothes until we can get you other stuff” Ezra had an expression that Hera could only describe as bewilderment. He looked like he was about to say something but Kanan cut him off “better get it on, so we can wash that as well” he suggested, pointing at Ezra’s splattered white under shirt. The blue haired teen blinked out of his daze and began to pull his shirt over his head. Hera did her very best not to gasp. As he pulled up his shirt the stretched fabric slid over the bumps of his protruding spine. A red, dry rash cracked its way down his right shoulder, caking itself on his spine, it stopped halfway down only to be replaced with a fairly new looking dark purple bruise that bloomed across his lower back like Sabine’s water colours. Although he wasn’t starving just yet, he was a good half of the way there and she could have counted his ribs with little difficulty. She didn’t get time to properly examine his array of old scars and new scratches and bumps before he pulled the cream sleep top over his dark mop of hair and let it slide down to cover his torso. When his sunken blue eyes turned to glance at her as she took the newly shed shirt from his hands, all she could see was the grim childhood memory of the hollow eyes of her people, starving in the tight clutches of the war many a cycle ago on Ryloth. She raised her gaze to see Kanan, she knew he had seen what she had, but instead of horror, instead of pity. She was met with something else. Ezra was frankly feeling a little overwhelmed. He was starting to think maybe he had judged these people wrong but then a doubting voice rang out in his thoughts. “No”, he told himself, “they’ll only disappoint you, as soon as winters over you stick to the plan and make a run for it”. But there was another voice that argued in favour of this motley band of rebels, a voice that had always been there, unlike the cold logic that had only developed on the dusty streets of Lothal. That soft humming that usually told him of dangers and traps, but more recently to trust. Right now it shouted to him, “no! no! stay! This is where you should be!” he had always trusted it before, but this was different, he needed more than this to convince him to change his entire way of life, so then the voice said, as if in answer “look up” so he did He lifter his head slightly, only to be met with the glittering teal of Kanan’s gaze, he saw all that he had before, the knowing and the empathy, but now, shining in the depths of blue and green, he felt something new. Respect, and a promise. *** Kanan’s hand on his back between his shoulder blades guiding him to his room didn’t bother him as much as he thought it would. He didn’t like touches, people could grab you too easily when you let them get that close. But that paranoia… that fear just wasn’t there as Kanan nudged him through the door and towards the ladder. I’m just tired, that’s all, he lied to himself. “you should rest, take a nap or something, you’re as white as snow on Hoth” Kanan observed and Ezra huffed in agreement already climbing the ladder, hoping to sleep before the building headache he had worsened and his returning hunger came back with a vengeance. Kanan was just leaving as Zeb walked in, holding a glass and a packet of crackers. The Jedi halted in curiosity, looking up at the tall lasat. Zeb shuffled uncomfortably, suddenly looking embarrassed. The clawed paws hurriedly transferred the goods into Kanan’s hands, murmuring something Ezra didn’t catch, before hurrying out the door. Kanan examined the packet before smiling and handing them and the glass up to Ezra “I didn’t think, you won’t have any food left  from dinner, you must be starving, not to mention dehydrated” as he said that Ezra was already hurrying to get the glass of water to his lips but Kanan reached up and stilled his hand, lightly gripping his wrist “just do me a favour and take it a little slower this time, alright kid?” the Jedi gave a wry smile and dropped the boys wrist then made his way out the cabin, as soon as he’d left Ezra smiled back. Taking small slow sips from the glass he gave a sigh and began to open the packet. He looked at the salted cracker in his hands and took a small bite of the corner, letting it melt in his mouth Maybe he’d be here a little longer than expected *** “I kind of feel better about all this now, in a kind of twisted way” Kanan murmured into his kaff as Hera blew on her own, trying to cool the hot beverage down. Her breaths sent steam swirling into the air, catching in the glow of the lights above them that had been dimmed to signal the artificial night. They had both volunteered for the graveyard shift and were currently sitting next to each other right where the drama had started a few hours before. “about what?” she asked as she decided the drink was cool enough and took a sip. “this whole training him thing,” he replied, moving his tanned face away from I own mug. She looked up at him and gave a warm smile that meant more to him than she could have ever said, he didn’t even need to explain. He loved that about her, always so smart. “I’m surprised he wasn’t more trouble today, especially with his shirt, I suppose he did look awfully tired” Hera spoke in a hushed voice, trying to keep her words from leaking through the thin walls of the ship and disturbing the others, especially Ezra. “me too-” Kanan agreed, “-he doesn’t really know us yet, I would have been apprehensive of showing stuff like that to you when we first met” he mused, thinking back to the man he had been without her but then the serious atmosphere was shattered as Hera laughed into her kaff. He raised an eyebrow in the pilot’s direction. “Kanan” she exclaimed between giggles “you had trouble keeping your shirt on around me when we first met!” Kanan rolled his eyes and feigned a pout as her giggles died down, melting back into the companionable silence “but seriously Kanan” she said as she turned to look at him “you can do this, you’ll figure it out” her voice was soft and soothing but at the same time determined, she could speak in a way that made him feel he could do anything “and for what it’s worth,I think Ezra will make a great student" Kanan gave a huff and settled his cheek on her covered head “if you say so” he murmured “but first I think we need to get a little meat on his bones”