#sigh. if you read all this thank you and I love you

[navybrat817]

Any thoughts for WETnesday with Bucky?🤭🤭

Okay, Syd. I wrote this after work for Wetnesday and promptly fell asleep. So, I'm posting this on Thirsty Thursday! And that has to be Mr. Barnes before you two are married.

Dinner Plans

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky doesn't want to be late for dinner, but you don't seem to be in a rush to go.

Word Count: Over 2.8k

Warnings: Established relationship, quick unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, lovelies), possessive behavior, a bit of humor and fluff, feels, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: I love this couple, okay? @targaryenvampireslayer and @starlightcrystalline, I hope you enjoy! ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

It was still early in the evening as Bucky got ready for dinner. Checking his watch once he put it on, he sighed. If he was late, Steve would give him a hard time. And if Steve gave him a hard time, Sam would only give him the gasoline to fuel the fire. Just the thought of it had his face shift to his grumpy stare you loved.

His gaze softened when you went to the vanity. Would the guys give him a hard time if he said he was in love and wanted as much alone time with you as possible? How being with you was like floating on a cloud and being pulled back down to earth all at once? He didn’t care if they’d call him out for being sappy. He sure as hell suffered enough in his life that he could afford to be appreciative of you and maybe a little selfish when it came to you.

But checking the time, he grumbled. “We were supposed to leave five minutes ago,” he said.

He would’ve rather gone to a hole in the wall kind of place or a diner to have dinner, but it wasn't his turn to pick the dinner out with some of the gang. Plus it was nice getting to dress up with you since you liked how he looked in suits. To be fair, you said he looked good in anything and he felt the same way about you. How you always managed to look like a goddess, he’d never know.

You hummed. “We still have a few minutes to spare,” you said, which he wasn’t sure how you knew since you hadn’t looked at the time. “And you are not dressed yet, so it’s not like we can head out the door.”

He paused to stare at you. “Neither are you,” he pointed out, licking his lips as you leaned forward a bit more as you applied your makeup. He shook his head after a moment, trying to snap himself out of the spell you always managed to put him under. “I’m bringing you one of my cardigans to put over your shoulders in case you get cold.”

Because the weather was nice for the evening, you picked out a sleeveless dress. He didn’t know if the restaurant would be cold though, and he didn’t want you shivering through the meal. You likely had something to match your dress, but putting one of his cardigans over you was like that extra touch of belonging to him in case anyone got any ideas.

“You just want one of your shirts draped over me like a big neon sign that says I’m yours and you don't want guys checking me out on my dress,” you said like you knew exactly what he was thinking. There was no reason to deny your words since it was the truth. “But I appreciate the thoughtfulness.”

“I do like my clothes draped over you,” he smirked. He liked having his smell on you, too. “But you know what I don’t like? Steve and Sam bitching if we’re late. It’ll spoil my appetite.”

“Aww, my poor super soldier,” you teased, smiling at him in your reflection and making his heart skip a beat. “If we’re late, you can just blame me. I won’t let them give you a hard time, okay?”

Bucky couldn’t blame you though. Not entirely. You were late getting in the shower thanks to him insisting on the two of you staying in bed. Serum stamina or whatever you wanted to call it, but he felt bad some days for his almost constant need. You didn’t seem to mind though.

“They won’t believe me,” he said, staring again when the strap of your bra slipped from your shoulder. “And baby, you know I adore you, but you need to quit distracting me so I can finish getting dressed.”

Ever since you moved in, you’d been a distraction in a wonderful way. He often found that he’d pause to look at photos or little touches you incorporated into the place, giving him a chance to reflect on memories you made together and even learn more about who you were before you met. Hearing your laughter or voice call to him from another room also made him drop whatever he was doing, too. Sharing a space with someone could be daunting, but it was easy with you, like you had lived together for years. It made him look forward to more.

“Me? Distracting you?” You turned your head toward him and gave him an innocent glance. You were anything but innocent. “I'm not doing anything.”

Bucky almost snarled. Like hell you weren't doing anything. Swaying your hips and prancing around in your lingerie before you sat to get ready, lingerie which barely covered your gorgeous tits and sweet cunt. He wanted to rip it to shreds or tear it off with his teeth. You wouldn’t mind, right? He could always get you more to destroy.

“Not doing anything? Look at you,” he said incredulously as you turned back to the mirror and pushed your bra up. He should’ve been holding your breasts. “Why aren't you wearing a robe?”

You tilted your head. “Well, you said before I got in the shower that we were in a slight rush, so I figured putting on the robe was a waste of time. At least I have my underwear on, though I know you’d rather I be naked.”

If Bucky had his way, you’d be naked all the time. At least, when you two were at home. Logically he knew he couldn’t have that at work, functions, or anything of that nature, but the image in his head was nice. “For such a rush you seem to be taking your time.”

“I'm not taking my time. I'm finishing my makeup,” you argued, carefully applying your lipstick. “Like it?” you asked, blowing him an air kiss. It was a pretty shade. It would look even prettier smeared around his cock.

He closed his eyes with a groan. Some days he felt like a caveman with the thoughts that consumed him. “You look beautiful,” he said once he opened his eyes. Like always. “Now get your dress on so I can show you off before I put the cardigan on you.”

“Show me off?” You slowly stood from your chair and gave him a generous view of your backside. His cock twitched in his pants, and there was no reason to hide the pure lust in his eyes when you turned to face him. “You flatter me, Mr. Barnes.”

He chuckled. It always did something to him when you called him Mr. Barnes. It was something affectionate, sweet. “I think you’re the one flattering me, Mrs.-” he exhaled before he could finish, and he heard the hitch in your breath across the room.

“What was that?” you asked breathily.

He adjusted the watch on his wrist and avoided your gaze. You were his girl, yeah, and the love you had for each other spoke volumes, but you weren’t his wife. Not yet. God, how he wanted you to be- for you to take his last name, wear his ring on your finger, be his partner in all aspects of life. He wanted it to be more than just a dream.

“I didn’t say…” He cleared his throat and put on a blank face, only because he didn’t know how you’d react. “Anything.”

Your eyes raked over him before you beckoned him forward with a finger. He swore no one would ever control him again after HYDRA brainwashed him, but you could’ve commanded him to do anything. It didn’t frighten him because you would never harm him, never take advantage of him. Taking him into your care and maintaining his trust was one of the ways you showed you loved him.

Once he stood in front of you, barely an inch away, you whispered, “Were you about to call me Mrs. Barnes?”

He swallowed hard, his heart racing. It was one thing to say you loved each other, to want a future together, but what if you weren’t ready when he popped the question? “I was,” he whispered back.

You smiled, not looking the least bit put off or afraid. He should've known it wouldn't bother you, especially with you being the one to say “I love you” first. “I think that has a really nice ring to it,” you said, your hands moving to unbuckle his belt.

“You think so?” he asked, forgetting for a moment that he was capable of breathing. “You like the idea of being my wife?”

Bucky would no doubt be the kind of husband who’d brag about you. He’d find ways to insert “my wife” in conversations just to let others know that you picked him out of everyone else on the planet. Not just that, he wanted people to know how proud he was to be your man and that he’d find reasons every day to be proud of you.

“I love it,” you confirmed, sighing when he ran his fingertips along your arms. “Makes my heart race,” you admitted. He could hear it. “Makes me wet.”

Bucky arched his hips and pressed up against you. “Baby, you’re gonna kill me,” he whispered, not stopping you as you unbuttoned his pants. He was thinking of just cancelling dinner so he could throw you on the bed and stay inside you for the rest of the night. “We need to-”

“Oh. Now might be a good time to tell you that Steve pushed the reservation back by a half hour,” you cut in, mouthing over his racing pulse. “He figured he’d message me since I’m better about checking my phone, and-”

Bucky picked you up with ease and tossed you onto the bed. Your wide-eyed expression as you bounced nearly had him busting out of his pants, and he didn’t hesitate to crawl over you and pin you down. Relishing in the moan you let out when he lightly bit your neck, he did it again a little harder. “No wonder you took your time and teased me,” he smirked when you squirmed beneath him. “My future wife.”

“My future husband,” you moaned, bucking your hips up. “Need you in me. We can be quick.”

You got a hand in his hair and forced his head up to yours, your tongue impatiently pushing into his mouth. He groaned in understanding, feeling just as desperate as you. Knowing how turned on you were at the thought of being his wife turned him on, and he could barely form a coherent thought as he took his cock out and gave it a couple of quick pumps.

“Say it again,” he demanded, shoving your panties aside and rubbing the head of his cock along your slit. He took his time earlier today stretching you, and he wanted nothing more than to feel you around him again.

And the way you reached between your bodies and gripped the base of his cock, he knew you wanted the same when you said, “Fuck me, my future husband.”

He eased in gently, making you whine. He thought he’d whine, too, for a second because of how good he felt. God, how good it would feel to hold your hand one day and feel his ring against your skin. “You okay?” he asked, dragging his thumb along your lower lip once he was fully inside you. You were tight still, so wet, and oh, he was going to fuck you and make it quick, but he wasn’t going to hurt you.

“I’m okay,” you whispered, starting deep into his eyes as you clenched around him with purpose and brushed his hair back. He tried to be still, tried not to thrust like a wild animal. “Are you?”

“I’m okay,” he promised, easing his hips back. “Just hold on while I fuck you.”

Your back arched when he slammed himself back in nice and deep, your cry bouncing off the walls. Here in the comfort of your home you didn’t have to smother any noises, didn’t have to keep quiet. He wanted to tell you how much he loved you, how you were the queen of his world.

Being inside you all he got out was, “You feel so fucking good.”

And because you could read him like no one else could, you tenderly smiled. “I love you, too.”

He threw his head back as you clutched his arms, determined to make you feel good, determined to show you how much he loved you even as he fucked you. “Gonna put you on your hands and knees after dinner. Make you watch in the mirror while I fuck you,” he groaned. “Can imagine it's part of our honeymoon.”

“Please!’ you moaned, trying to meet his thrusts.

Bucky grabbed your thighs to lift you higher, uncaring if he ruined his pants for the evening. Watching you tremble beneath his, a vision of ecstasy, he was happy to stay there forever. Wrapped up in you was where he always wanted to be.

“Gonna come,” you moaned, reaching up to pull his hair again, your body quaking. “Bucky, please.”

Bucky groaned. He hadn’t rubbed your clit how he wanted to. Didn’t get to tear your bra off and tease your nipples. He did promise to fuck you later though, and he’d do all those things and more. “Then come for me,” he smirked, leaning down to say against your lips, “Future. Mrs.. Barnes.”

You got impossibly tight and the flood of wetness that gushed around him triggered his own orgasm, a rush of heat filling him as he filled you. His mouth fell open as you clung to him, and he heard you moan his name as your eyes went glossy. He wanted the image of you getting off to taking his last name etched in his brain for all time. He wanted his name to fall from your lips again and again on your wedding night.

The cloud in his mind began to lift. You, his future wife, were beneath him, still shaking, still holding him like a lifeline. He didn’t want to let you go either. “Holy… shit…” you panted.

He braced himself above you, trying not to crush you as the euphoria slowly faded. It never really went away though. Not with you. “Holy shit,” he agreed. He stayed inside you, your sweet mewl making him smile as he kissed you. “Is this a new kink?” he asked, pressing his forehead to yours.

“Yeah,” you exhaled, touching his cheek. “New kink unlocked.”

Touching your lips with his once more, he chuckled. “You ruined my pants,” he teased. It wouldn’t have been the first time. The first time you rode his thigh and got your release all over it, he nearly came, too. “Good thing I have a few minutes to change.”

He cradled you close when he shifted to the side, making you moan again. “Yeah, well, you ruined my panties. Fair is fair.”

“I did,” he smirked, running his fingers along your spine. “Hey.”

“Hey what?”

“I love you,” he whispered, wanting to say it as often as he could. They weren’t just words, but a declaration, a promise.

“I love you, too,” you whispered back, tracing one of the buttons on his wrinkled shirt.

His lips brushed your forehead. He’d never get tired of hearing you say that. “If I asked you to marry me right now, would you say yes?”

He wouldn’t propose right this second. You deserved something more romantic. But in his heart, he just wanted to hear you say that you’d say yes.

You giggled, your eyes full of love. “I would say yes in a heartbeat,” you replied, kissing him gently. Your answer relieved him. “And I’d marry you anytime, anywhere.”

He raised an eyebrow. “But?” he asked, sensing a “but” in there.

“But don’t ask me right now, okay?” you smiled, in sync with his thoughts. “I mean, I’d like to think my pussy would make you propose now-”

“And it would,” he smirked.

You giggled again. “But ask me when I’m not expecting it… Whenever it feels right to you.”

“I will,” he promised.

“Looking forward to it.” You snuggled closer and missed his look of adoration. “Hold me for one more minute before we get ready to go?”

As if he could ever deny you. “I’ll hold you as long as you want,” he whispered.

He no longer cared if Steve or Sam gave him shit should they show up late. If you wanted him to skip dinner just to hold you, he’d do it. If you wanted him to surprise you when he proposed, he would. And no matter when Bucky asked you to be his wife, he’d make sure it was perfect as it could possibly be.

AHH! I love them so much. How do you lovelies think he proposed? ❤️ Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[comatosebunny09]

carpe noctem [ climax ] | sylus

— summary: sylus drags you onto a mission with him for old time’s sake. and you slide into familiarity, almost like there isn’t a wedge in the form of a beautiful young hunter driving you apart. — cw: explicit sexual content, reader is not mc, reader implied to be femme, assassin!reader, mentions of blood, profanity, mentions of pedophilia, mentions of human trafficking, minor character death, men with guns, reader has a shitty past, self-destructive behavior, reader doing her assassin duties, a little romance sprinkled in between, mdni — notes: inspired by mr. & mrs. smith. thank you so much for reading, lovely! [ part 1 | part 2 | part 3 ] — now playing: cariño - the marías — obligatory tags: @withering-dream @an-ever-angry-bi @midiplier @abbylee0710 @picnicthegarden @karespocketboyfriends @chrissy26 @delulusimps @glamouroki @midiplier @celestemcbrim @everywherenothere @ari-shipping-stuff @beewilko @alexhenituse @nim-rose @moonlight-inthe-sea @sunnyf4lls @himiko-omikami @inkonparchment @sillyfreakfanparty @regandoesthings @im-in-different-universe @ravensheart18 @alyyylog @corvid007 (sorry if i missed anyone.)

He wanted to make love. You wanted to fuck.

He wanted you, all tender and pliant beneath him, his name hinged in your throat. He wanted to worship you, to uncover the erogenous zones of your body piece by piece, and to expose you like forgotten treasure buried deep beneath rotting ruins. 

But you reasoned you didn’t have time. You were in a hurry—a hurry for what, exactly, you couldn’t pinpoint. 

Perhaps you were rushing to feel something, in a hurry to please and to feel useful as you tore his shirt from his shoulders, his body rigid and searing between the thick of your thighs. Pleasing is all you know, serving embedded in your chemical makeup, no room to pursue your own desires. 

Your mouths came together so abruptly that your teeth clashed. The counter of his kitchen island was glacial and tacky beneath your thighs. You’d barely divested yourself of your coat before you drew him into an ardent dance of tongues, his abs twitching beneath the artful crawl of your fingers. You tugged at the give of his pants, quietly yet vehemently demanding he take them off. He drew back, wild-eyed and hair mussed, eyes drowsy with want.

“We should slow down,” he sighed, hot and open-mouthed where your shoulder met neck. Blistered down to your collarbone where he nipped, hands roosted on your hips, thumbs soothingly cruising over juts of bone. 

It made you sick, his tenderness. You weren’t glass and didn’t deserve to be handled like it. 

You chuckled something husky and bitter, tossing your thoughts to the wolves. Your fingers raked through his hair. Grabbing the scruff of his neck, you brought his mouth back to yours, trapping any further words of protest in his throat. 

You didn’t want to think. Didn’t want complications. Just wanted to be driven by sensation, tucking your inhibitions into the darkest hulls of your mind. 

You’re a bit of a masochist. You enjoy punishing yourself for misdeeds you’ve constructed in your mind—having feelings for your boss, secretly envying your friend. Your use is slowly running its course, and you’ll one day be thrown to the wayside. 

You figure you don’t deserve kindness. Sensitivity. You don’t deserve a slow love, the steady creep of an orgasm bubbling in your stomach, invoked by the sluggish grind of hips, words of affirmation whispered like the sweetest supplication into your ear.

No.

You deserve to be used, lusted after. You’ve spent most of your adult life with that mentality, your past having engraved that under your skin. You’ve been a weapon for as long as you can remember. A tool. Loveless. Which is why, when the gentleman who’d frequented Lux wanted to take his time with you, you declined, opting for something more ragged and intense. 

He took you hard and rough on his counter at your behest. Left you open, bare, laughing, battling to get your breath under control. You stayed the night to humor him. Let him hold you as he stroked the sweetest compliments of all with ghostly fingers into your skin as the stars in the sky gave way to the gentle spill of sun rays. 

You crept out of his arms and apartment once he sank below the misty shawl of sleep. He’d inquire about your whereabouts later—ask why you didn’t stay. You rarely did. Tonight, you felt weak. 

You’d ignore him until you next needed him. When the urge to forget sunk its talons into your chest, curling around your heart and squeezing. 

You had a mission to prepare for. Sylus’ name lit up your notifications, cryptic as ever with minimal words. You’d deal with your feelings later. 

There was work to be done.

Besides, you didn’t even remember his name. 

How could you face him when you’d uttered someone else’s name while he was deep inside you?

—

You pay for your escapades in the form of pretty petals of blue and green blooming on your neck the following night. Bite marks. 

You rub at the raw skin for the nth time, a hiss forced through grit teeth. Maybe he was a little too rough. Concealer works wonders, coupled with your glamor. Still doesn’t take away the sting, but you suppose the pain is your punishment for being weak.

You stretch, yawning. Shift until the leather of the car’s backseat squeaks. You sense his eyes on you in your periphery, boring down to the marrow. The fine hairs littering your body stand on end. You maneuver again, leant against the door, cheek propped on your knuckles. 

You try to focus on the scenery unfolding beyond the car’s windshield. Powdery stars spilled over a deep violet canvas. The red glare of brake lights every so often as you approach another vehicle. Try to focus on the driver’s fingers readjusting on the steering wheel, on the fixed hum of the engine, and how it intermingles with the gentle bumps on the road. Home in on your breathing and the thunderous drum of your heart. He’s been watching you like this since you eased into the car—Sylus. 

You get this creeping suspicion he wants to say something. Like he knows all your secrets, having perused through them like they’re the yellowed pages of a book. Nah. He wouldn’t know what kind of night you had. He wouldn’t care. You’re a grown woman, capable of making your own mistakes and reaping the repercussions of them. He has other things on his mind—other people. 

Another yawn escapes you. You curse yourself for not grabbing coffee on your way out. Too busy pouring yourself into your dress, painting your face with makeup, and meticulously tucking your weapons away. 

“Long day?” says Sylus. You jolt the slightest bit at the grit of his voice. How it breaks up the silence and sets your stomach alight with dragonflies. Fabric shifts. His exhale is weighted beside you, thigh brushing yours as he spreads his legs, so very big in comparison to the backseat. 

You force a smile, smoothing out the wrinkles of your dress. “You could say that.”

You feel the shift in his gaze. There’s a whisper of bitterness in his tone when he next speaks. “Maybe you should spend less time pursuing your hobbies at night and more time sleeping.”

This time, you do turn. Cut your eyes to him, mouth tugged up with confusion. His expression reads passivity. Mouth scrawled into a rigid line, scarlet eyes fixed to yours, unrelenting. Something’s off about him tonight. You sensed it in the brevity of his call when he phoned you to outline your mission—you’d be accompanying him tonight to a banquet. A glittering, amenable doll on his arm, smiling pretty like murder wasn’t rotting your mind. You’d lure your target away to be snuffed out like a candle’s flame. Slip out without drawing suspicion, and the world would be rid of another shit stain. 

He quirks a brow, wordlessly challenging you. No customary smirk comes this time. Just the air weighted with something tense. Your throat clicks when you swallow. You opt for obliviousness, laughing it off despite the gnarling feeling in your gut worming its way up your throat. Despite every synapse in your brain screaming for you to fire back. You’re reading too much into things. He’s being his usual, detached self, and not because he knows you were up to no good last night.

Right?

“Maybe I should.” 

The tendons in Sylus’ neck pull, jaw tensing. For a moment, he looks like he wants to keep prodding. But he instead averts his gaze when the driver chimes in, announcing you’ve arrived at your destination. 

The venue’s tawny spotlights dance over the windshield as the car crawls to a stop. People donned in expensive formalwear line the sidewalk, animatedly chatting as they await entry. You take some time to admire the historic, art deco architecture before your door opens, the crisp evening air spilling in and fanning over your skin. 

You look up when Sylus offers you his arm. His expression softens considerably, contrasting the wet cat he was moments ago. There’s a hint of a smile twitching his lips. He almost looks boyish, and you can’t help taking him in. He’s dressed to the nines, tucked in a three-piece tux, bow tie meticulously tied, hair swept up into a pretty, alabaster coif.

Your lips spasm. You peel yourself from the seat, gathering up the trail of your dress. Twine your arm with his, allowing him to shepherd you through the throng of people. It almost feels like old times, their voices petering to a hush when they catch sight of you. They part like a school of fish as the pair of you make your way up the steps leading to the venue’s doors.

“Stay frosty,” you joke to dispel your nerves, standing before the heavy, double doors, waiting for the attendees to open them. 

Sylus snorts, his arm flexing beneath the possessive clutch of your fingers. He pinches the bridge of his nose. And the exasperation in his voice makes your eyes crinkle with mirth. “Please, never say that again.”

You slide into familiarity thereafter, almost like there wasn’t a wedge in the form of a beautiful young hunter driven between you.

—

She said something curious to you when you arrived at the airport earlier—Ms. Hunter. You had the time to spare. You wanted to ask why she requested you drive her instead of Sylus. But you didn’t push it, figuring she had her reasons. Maybe she didn’t have the energy for his nagging, his fretting. She should be so lucky. 

She’d be gone for a couple of weeks, swept up in the grueling task of protecting researchers in the mountains from Wanderers. A part of you felt sorry for her. Worried. But she was a big girl. If she could smack Sylus around in Kitty Cards, she could dodge a few teeth and claws, no problem. 

“Need help?” you asked over your shoulder, the SUV’s engine humming idly at the airport’s drop-off point. 

She smiled at you from the backseat. “I got it!” She chirped as she fetched her oversized suitcase from the floor. 

She rounded the vehicle, bowing to your level at the window. Up close, her smile looked more mischievous than usual. Smile lines bracketed her honey-dipped eyes as she murmured, “Be nice to Sylus. He’s trying, ya know?” 

You pinned her with a quizzical look, your mouth working around a retort. She left before you could get a word out. You watched her slip through the crowd of travelers milling about before she was out of sight, leaving you to mull over what the hell that meant.

—

It starts to make sense as time passes what she meant. 

When you’ve gorged yourself on conversation and champagne, nestled between politicians, CEOs, socialites, and people of the like. Fickle, spewing gossip you can’t be bothered to keep up with. 

Sylus rarely leaves your side, only slipping away to chat up old colleagues or to procure you more bubbly. Always has a hand, scorching and possessive, at the small of your back, or an arm slung about your waist, drawing you into the safety his body exudes. He doesn’t correct anyone when they address you as his, giving you a subdued, amused look when you work your mouth into amending them.

You titter shyly, toying with your necklace. Maybe this is a part of your cover—pretending to be his significant other, all pretty and docile at his side. You won’t complain. It’s nice being this close, feeling wanted, and being envied in a different way. Not for your body, but for the man wrapped so willingly around your finger. 

It’s felt like ages since you’ve last done a gig together, so you’ll enjoy his attention, even if it’s all a ploy, while you can.

The evening slides by in a blur of twinkling chandeliers and laughter. 

Sylus draws you into a dance, and the pair of you are swallowed up by the mass of swaying couples and the string orchestra. Your cheeks ache with a smile, your limbs and inhibitions loosened by the champagne. He holds you to him as you waltz, his body rigid and devastating against yours, languorous fingers curled around your nape. He hasn’t stopped smiling, a boyish dimple cratering his cheek. Hasn’t released you from the scarlet stir of his eyes since, and you smoosh your face against pectoral muscle, hiding the warmth splotching your cheeks.  

His heart thrums something steady beneath your ear. Beneath the expensive pleat of his tux. Breaths even, his bewitching scent furling in your chest like smoke. You let him lead you about the glittering marble tiles of the dance floor, feeling like you’re in a dream. Perhaps it’s the bubbly that’s got you toddling through a dreamlike fog, but a fraction of you starts to think, just for a second, you’re more than a cover, and your boss isn’t so detached, shoving you to the back burner in favor of someone else. 

Your breath is sharp when he suddenly peels away, expertly twirling you. You laugh as your dress flutters around your ankles, nearly tripping you up. He dips you as the music dampens, the beautiful scenery tilting and blurring. Swathed in the tawny, dim lighting of the banquet hall, you make out his features, something akin to affection loosening his expression, and the smile slips from your face. 

The world fades away, and only the pair of you seem to exist in this moment. He pulls you closer until your vision fills with red, fringed by dark, wispy lashes sweeping over cheeks mottled pink. His lips purse as his gaze slides to your mouth, breath stirring your baby hairs. You hold your breath as he eases in, appearing like he’ll kiss you, and you’re stricken by something hot. Your mouths but a hairsbreadth apart, he whispers something that makes your heart sink to your feet.

“It’s showtime.”

The magic of the moment falls away as he steadies you. A pout worms its way onto your face as Sylus tangles your fingers together, a chuckle swelling in his chest. He leads you back to your table, still holding your hand, even long after you’ve returned to your seats.

—

Nikolai is easy to manipulate. To bend to your will. Of course, he is. All men are if you know how to approach them. 

It helps that your glamor erases a few years off your face, giving you the appearance of a young woman barely experiencing the world. His favorite. It only takes you fluttering your lashes, laughing pretty, and flattering him to get him to take you back to his hotel room.

On the surface, he’s a passive, middle-aged man who looks like he wouldn’t harm a fly. But beneath that facade, he’s a scourge waiting to be wiped out. He’s as despicable as everyone else you’ve bumped off, auctioning off girls to nefarious men under the guise of selling “harmless little dolls.” Moonlighting as a franchise owner, using his stores as a ruse to smuggle young girls through the channels of the underworld. 

You take that personally, having once been on the auctioning floor yourself. Memories of a past painted red flood your mind, and it makes your stomach churn with disgust. You were lucky then, having been turned into a murderous tool rather than a fucktoy. So, it makes sense why Sylus was so eager to get you on this mission. Like he knew you’d take pleasure in watching Nikolai’s life drain from his eyes, his blood caked up under your nails. 

Your smile twitches, threatening to screw up into a grimace as you walk at Nikolai’s side, arm in arm. He’s red-faced and cheery, having gorged himself on champagne and merriment at the banquet. You would’ve snuffed him out if four bodyguards didn’t flank you. Not like you can’t take them, but you’d rather complete your mission as quietly as possible without rousing suspicion.

You just have to keep up the act long enough to isolate him so you can make your move. He’s been ruffling Onychinus’ feathers, claiming to be in cahoots with its notorious leader. Sylus, of course, doesn’t like that, not wanting to be associated with the likes of him. This is where you come into play, his ever-faithful watchdog, ready to kill at the drop of a hat.

Nikolai ushers you into his hotel room, where three more guards stand in good form in the living area. You acknowledge them with a seductive smile, allowing one to frisk you. Your smile grows tenfold when he finds nothing, clearing his throat and straightening his tie as if he’s fallen prey to your charm. Someone should be fired.

Nikolai leads you into his room thereafter, the double doors shutting and locking with finality. You offer him a massage, to which the portly man happily accepts, stripping down to his boxers and plopping onto the king-sized bed. He has a thing for pretty, young girls barely scraping the surface of legality. You’ll see to it he’s ushered into the afterlife by one.

Your hair waterfalls from its updo, warm as it spills onto your shoulders when you pull your hairpin free. You ruck up your gown, climbing over his body to roost yourself on his backside, legs bracketing either side of his waist, heels digging waning moons into your thighs. You’re sultry as you ensnare him in small talk, fingers kneading over layers of fat and muscle. Nikolai hums appreciatively, seemingly thrilled to have your company. Just the way you want him.

Your fingers tip-toe up his spine, thumbs smoothing over the notches of bone there. He exhales beneath your ministrations, remarking how magical your hands are. You huff a laugh as your fingers curl around his jaw, the opposing set burying themselves in his hair. 

“Massaging isn’t the only thing my hands are good at.”

With a fluent twitch of your wrists, his neck snaps, the sound barely heard above the gentle croon of the jazz music he queued up beforehand, accompanied by the exhale of a life dying out like a flame. 

You pull his eyelids down, easing off his lifeless body. Stare at his corpse with a faraway look in your eyes, smoothing some hair away from his face. Like he’s a sacrifice to the little girl inside, screaming for revenge. You straighten your dress when the bedroom doors rattle, Nikolai’s men frantically calling his name. Shit. Maybe you weren’t as meticulous as you thought. 

Quickly, you survey your surroundings for a way out. Spot the sliding doors leading to the balcony, and you dart between them, the wispy curtains grazing over your fevered skin. A wintry kiss of wind greets you as you lean over the rail, hair ruffling, and you take in the bokeh of lights glittering on the street below. 

You’re at least eight stories from the ground, so jumping is out of the question. You could very well fight your way out, but Nikolai’s guards are heavily armed. There’s no guarantee you’ll make it out of the fray unscathed. 

You lean back against the rail, adrenaline spuming through you, watching the bedroom doors pulse as his guards kick and shove against them. Fuck! Tugging a knife from the garter belt tucked beneath the slit of your dress, you prepare for a fight, body taut, nerves flaring. 

Just when you’ve resolved to get your hands dirty, something feathery touches your bare shoulder. Gentle and curious in its embrace, and you whip your head around to its source. You’re met with a smoky tendril, speckled with claret orbs of energy, swirling ominously before you. You peer over the railing, a familiar shock of white blurring into frame. There’s no mistaking the upward cant of his lips, and the crinkle of scarlet-spun eyes from this height. He motions to you with two fingers from the sidewalk, wordlessly beseeching you to come down.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you mutter, a nervous expression stretching your features. Heights have never been your forte, but you suppose beggars can’t be choosers. “Fuck it,” you relent, gathering some courage and climbing onto the rail. 

Nikolai’s men finally break through, and as they dart in, spraying the room in a hail of bullets upon seeing Nikolai’s corpse, you fall into the feathery cradle of Sylus’ Evol, a yip ripped from your throat. 

You float to the ground like a feather, falling into Sylus’ arms. He looks down at you with something unguarded shining in his eyes, using his Evol as a shield when Nikolai’s men pelt the pair of you with a barrage of bullets.

You lose yourself in the moment. Your lips part, lids heavy with something you can’t quite place. 

“Took you long enough,” you chide to dispel the tension brewing between you, trying to catch your breath.

“I’ll be more punctual next time,” Sylus answers with a chuckle, voice rumbling against your body as he casually walks away from the scene, refusing to put you down, even long after he’s warped you to safety. 

rising action | masterlist

[satoruxx]

THE SPACE BETWEEN COMFORT AND CHAOS.

✧ PAIRING: wolf!toji fushiguro x f!reader | 6.8k words

✧ SUMMARY: wolfhybrid!toji, hybrid au, grumpy x sunshine, animalistic behavior, pining, jealous toji, more blood as a metaphor for love, we getting a little suggestive with this one, nothing too smutty but toji does have a few questionable thoughts, he's lowkey tweaking out

✧ RHEYA'S NOTE: i'll be so honest i had the first half of this chapter written since like september but i got stuck with the second half. unfortunately i hit a wall with this series but now i'm back on track!! updates will probably still be slower just bc this semester is looking rough and i'm graduating but !! i have a lot planned for wolf toji dw :33 as always i'd recommend reading the previous parts before this one !!

prev. | series masterlist.

you have a date tonight.

even though you've said it's just a casual get together, toji knows it's a date. he can smell the giddiness rolling off of you as you bounce around your apartment trying to get ready, his eyes following your every move.

"so how long will you be out for this date?" he questions, trying to keep his voice even and casual as he leans against the doorframe of your bedroom. you're standing in front of your mirror, fixing your hair with a critical eye, and embarrassingly enough, toji can't look away.

"it's not a date," you stress with a quiet laugh, eyes sparkling with amusement. "and i should be back around eleven hopefully."

well at least you plan to come home.

(to him.)

toji lets his head rest against the wall, pursing his lips to bite back the snarkiness he wants to express. "well what am i supposed to do while you're gone?"

"i don't know, whatever you want." you grin at him through the mirror, teasing. "do wolf hybrids howl at the mailman?"

he snorts in return, crossing his bulky arms over his chest with a wry smirk. "'m not a dog."

"sure you aren't." you turn around to face him fully, gesturing to yourself with a tilt of your head. "this look okay?"

he bites back a sigh. toji isn't great with words, but he would love to tell you that you're quite literally the most attractive human he's ever met. his jade eyes travel over your figure, ignoring the instinctual rise of jealousy that is swimming in his gut because some other asshole gets to see you like this—all dolled up and pretty like you've dropped from the heavens.

which, to toji, you have. a guardian angel sent just for him.

"looks great," he mutters, nodding once at your ensemble. though he's sure you could make even the ugliest clothing look like perfection. you beam at him, grabbing your coat before bounding over to him.

"thanks toji!" you say his name with an absurd amount of sweetness, reaching up to poke your finger into his cheek. he rolls his eyes, making a show of playfully snapping his canines at your hand. a peal of laughter rips from your throat as you retract, and his ears flick at the sound, pleased. he has the strongest urge to squeeze you into his very being—all consuming.

toji follows you to the door, watching you pick up the house keys and slipping on your shoes as you ramble to him. "there's meat in the fridge and some leftover rice if you want it. oh and i bought those juices you said you liked—"

a fucking angel.

"—so make sure you eat well, okay?" you look at him imploringly, and toji inhales sharply. god he wants to wrap you up tight and keep you with him for the rest of eternity. but instead he's stuck like this, watching you go out to meet some other man while he aimlessly prowls your empty apartment. it's bad enough that the whole space reminds him of you—your scent heavy and sweet around him. but being stuck in your house without you there? that's another struggle all together.

toji didn't even mean for this to happen. god knows he's had enough of trusting humans for a lifetime, because all they can be are cruel and selfish and greedy.

so when you and him came face to face in that alleyway, all he wanted to do was scare you off and keep to himself—the only person he knows he can rely on. but of course, you are as stubborn as you are sweet. maybe that's why toji feels the strange need to always have you in his sight, to always feel you near him.

you're too good for this world, and he would rather gut himself than let anyone touch you.

so that incessant thumping against his ribcage and the swooping in his stomach that only happens when you look at him? that's just protective instinct—a way to repay you for taking pity on an animal like him.

it has nothing to do with feelings. he definitely does not crack a wry smile when you both share a meal. he definitely does not feel a surge of affection when he realizes that you've gone out of your way for him again. he definitely does not allow his tail to wag back and forth when you're excited or happy around him. he definitely does not mask his satisfaction behind a grumpy scowl when you reach up and scratch behind his pointed ears.

definitely not.

besides, toji needs to pull himself together. because if he cares about you even a little bit, he'll keep his distance. he doesn't want to be known as the animal who came and ruined your life.

he's sure you've told all of your friends and coworkers about him—the wolf hybrid you've allowed into your home. he supposes he should be grateful that you haven't been treating him the way most humans do—like a pet. no you've given him more freedom than he knows what to do with, and he's sure that your brain isn't even wired to see him in any other way than as an equal.

like he said, you're too fucking sweet for this world.

but toji knows that everyone around you probably sees him the way hybrids are supposed to be seen, and that's why nobody sees him as a threat. but toji can't deny the insane desire to be viewed as a threat. as a competitor—one that would gladly run in the race for your affection.

(but that's delusional. he knows that people would talk, would frown as you pass by. because you've crossed a line that society deems as dirty—wrong. he isn't worried about what people would say about him. no he doesn't give a shit about that. but the idea of anyone badmouthing you makes his stomach churn and anger spike.

so no. he could never do that to you. he cannot ruin you like that. to turn himself into the scum that took advantage of a poor little human.)

"yeah yeah," he waves you off, clearing his throat. he doesn't like that his brain goes to these thoughts so often these days. "get out of here now."

you stick your tongue out again, reaching for the door. "it's my house thank you very much!"

the wind is biting as it hits toji's skin, and it serves as a cruel wake up call to his reality. that there is no circumstances where you'd be going out to meet him in a situation like this. where he is the one on the receiving end of your sweet love and adoration. he approaches to lock the door behind you, lips slanted. just as you're stepping out, you reach a hand up. he stiffens as your fingers gently scratch behind his pointed ears, so very gently. a pleasant chill climbs up his spine, tickles his very nerve endings.

(he thinks he could die peacefully just laying his head in your lap and letting your fingers gently scratch at his ears.)

toji doesn't remember when you started feeling so comfortable touching him. he can't remember the moment he started feeling comfortable touching you. but if he racks his brain far back enough he can remember that strange sense of longing he started feeling when looking at you. can remember the instances where he'd push your face away when you got too close, heat crawling up his neck.

he holds back a shiver, steeling his expression into his normal unamused stare. yet he feels like his affection for you might be obvious if you looked too deeply into his eyes. you retract your hand with a grin, unperturbed by his moodiness. "i'll be back soon."

"you better…" he mumbles quietly. before he can stop himself, he's reaching up and placing his palm on your head, just like he did all those weeks ago. sure enough he can see the slivers of embarrassment creep into your expression, the subtle dip of your lashes and quirk of your lips. he had quickly realized how truly addicting this expression was to him—almost drug-like. he had chased after it shamelessly since then.

you give him a look, a semi pursed smile, and then leave him. he watches you until you disappear down the street, and he feels his mood sour further. he doesn't like how much influence your presence has on him. when he shuts the door behind him and is only met with the silence of your empty apartment, he starts to feel restless.

toji is no idiot. he knows that he is gradually beginning to care for you. he knows that he has already melted far more than he should've. but you're sneaky, managing to worm your way into the coldest corners and crevices and light a fire there.

but he hates that. he hates that he has even allowed his brain the luxury to think of you in that way. a rational mind has always been something he has been able to brag about, but somehow he finds that it fails him when you're around.

it takes about twenty minutes in your empty apartment for toji to feel like he's going stir crazy. he's not unaccustomed to you being away—but the idea that you're out with someone else just makes him feel irritated. he sighs, grabbing a jacket and slipping on his shoes. he picks up his set of keys from the bowl by the door before heading out into the cold. he doesn't really know where he's going, but he knows that he can't sit in your apartment for the next couple hours.

(not in this space that constantly reminds him of you. the space that is heavy with the scent that clings to your body and invades his senses late at night. drives him up the wall with restless need and longing in his muscles that he has not felt in a long time.)

the streets are brightly lit, and toji pulls his hood over his head before shoving his hands into his pockets. keeps his eyes on the ground because there is still that sting of paranoia that his past will come back to haunt him. honestly he would've been fine living with only himself to rely on. but the universe must have truly been praying on his downfall, because here he is—the oh so terrifying and feared wolf of the underground, being worried about something as silly as a damn crush.

he'd figured that this brief wave of attraction he felt towards you would disappear easily. in fact, all he planned on doing was taking advantage of your blatant kindness and open mindset towards hybrids. eat your food and gain some strength before moving on to the next city and becoming nothing more than a stranger who once dipped into your life. but no, you and your stupid smile had practically invited him in, open arms and generous comfort that made him feel sick to his stomach for even considering taking advantage of you.

that's the most frustrating part—your dumb sweetness makes it impossible for him to hurt you.

even now, when he feels this unreasonable sense of betrayal at the thought of you being out with some other man, he doesn't have it in him to be angry at you. of course toji isn't stupid. he isn't delusional enough to believe that he has any right to be angry about such a thing. you're perfection embodied in human form—he'd be an idiot to think that nobody else in the world would look at you the way he does. and he knows that they'd probably be better suited for you.

(what, as a washed up bitter old wolf hybrid, does he have to offer you?)

so yes, he's trying to convince himself that this is good enough. being able to share your space and take up a corner in your life. to hear your thoughts and hear his name fall from your lips.

his feet carry him forward without having a destination in mind. he briefly thinks that maybe he'll go to that one little restaurant where you often get takeout and bring some back for you. he's sure you'll eat on the date, but he's thinking about doing it anyway. a gruff smirk worms its way onto his face when he thinks about how you'll chide him for being buying food even though there were leftovers at home. you're so easy for him to read and that makes him ridiculously happy.

"toji?"

he freezes, brow twitching. bile instinctually rises in his throat, and he feels his hackles rising. his ears stiffen, claws lengthen, and he feels as though the hair on his body has stood on edge. it takes every bit of willpower to not bolt down the street, right back to your apartment. instead he can only stiffly turn around, teeth gritted as he comes face to face with his grandfather.

the old man's eyes are narrowed, but otherwise he shows no emotion. "so this is where you've been."

toji purses his lips, mind spinning with a thousand different ways to get out of this situation. he's screwed, royally. "i've been all over."

"it's been months. don't you think your little vacation is up now?"

"fuck off," toji snarls. his anger spikes so fast even he finds it a little unreasonable.

naobito lets out a boisterous laugh—grating and sharp. "how can i turn a blind eye when my damn investment is running around in the streets?"

"well you shoulda kept a better eye on me, huh old man?" toji snarls. he feels more threatened than ever before. his body is overwhelmed with a thousand different emotions. the horror of being caught and maybe being thrown back underground. the disgust at seeing the man he hates most in the world.

the pure unadulterated fear that consumes him when he thinks that he might never see you again.

he won't do it. he'll die before being dragged away once more.

"oh you're so entertaining toji." naobito pulls out his phone, the light from the screen illuminating his face in a way that makes him look strangely terrifying. "enough games. you've had your fun."

toji's lunging before he even realizes it, the growl that tears through his throat sounding almost feral. his right hand snakes around naobito's throat, and it takes all his willpower to not crush the man's windpipe between his fingers. his other hand is ready to strike, claws sharp and glinting in the moonlight. the old man's eyes go wide for a second, but then they narrow, and despite the difficulty, his lips stretch into an oily smile.

"you won't do it…" he chokes out, strained and painful. toji's palm tightens further, eliciting a wheeze from the old man. "you know what they'll do to you."

toji honestly doesn't care. in his mind, being put down wouldn't be the worst thing in the world if it means killing this bastard once and for all. but then he has a thought, and it all comes crashing down.

you.

he thinks of you and your sweet smile and welcoming arms and everything suddenly stops. because by chance if this fucker finds out about you, everything is over. toji's mind races. thoughts of his grandfather's men coming after him and finding you instead, punishing you for taking in the animal that so clearly didn't belong to you. ice floods his veins—chilling and jarring.

his grip loosens, and then he's backing away slowly. the goosebumps on his arms are almost painful, and he can feel his pulse thudding against his jugular as naobito stands and straightens his clothes. the old man clears his throat. "you can run all you want. you know they'll find you."

"i'll take that risk." toji wants to go. never in his life has he felt so inclined to run. he takes another step back, and naobito raises his phone again.

"do it," toji grits out, flashing his lengthened claws. the old man's eyes catch the movement, and even though his expression remains neutral, toji can smell the hesitation spiking as he stills. "i dare you."

"you even touch me and they'll lock you up for good," naobito spits. "maybe even put you down."

"well that's fine with me as long as i've ripped you to shreds." toji licks his teeth, eyes narrowed. "shame that brat naoya isn't here with you. i would've broken his neck too."

naobito lets out a mirthless laugh, but he doesn't make any more advancements. toji takes another step back, snarling. his grandfather crosses his arms, tilting his head with an amused smile. "you do all this drama, but you know you'll go back there on your own."

toji barks out a laugh, though it is strained with anger. "oh yeah? how come?"

naobito's smile becomes chilling as his voice drops. "because it's in you, toji. you're nothing but a rabid animal, and you'll crave blood soon enough."

toji's skin prickles. nausea churns his guts, and all he can manage to spit out is a growled "fuck you," before he's turning around and running. thankfully, the darkness of the night acts like a blanket—covers up his footsteps until he's sure he's far enough. for once he thanks the heavens for his animalistic traits; the speed with which his feet carry him is almost superhuman. he wonders if his damn grandfather is calling all the people he knows, sending them after him. but another part wonders if naobito is so psychotic that he would wait for toji to come crawling back.

both options are ridiculously plausible.

toji stops and thinks that maybe he shouldn't go back to your house. he could be leading his past right to your doorstep. but then he realizes there is no other place in the world where he is more safe, and then he's speeding up again. when he reaches your apartment, he hides in the shadows for ten minutes waiting to see if he's being followed. when he deems it safe, he quietly unlocks your door and slips inside.

the apartment is just as he left it, and toji finally releases a shaky breath. his heartbeat feels erratic, and he didn't even realize that he'd been biting his lip so hard, only now tasting the metallic flavor of his own blood.

(he ignores how easily his tense muscles seem to relax when your scent invades his senses once more.)

toji flops onto the couch unceremoniously, rubbing at his brow bones. what are the odds that he'd run into his damn grandfather in the streets and still be a free man? toji always figured that if he ever saw the old bastard again, he'd find himself either dead or back underground. after all, naobito zenin has always cared so deeply about his number one investment.

now the only thing on toji's mind is the fact that he might be putting you in danger. you and the sweet life you've so carefully built. the life that you shared with him so willingly—open arms and all. what right did he have to bring threats to that comfort and stability? you've been so good to him, and what has he done to repay that except constantly put you in tough situations?

he thinks that maybe meeting him in that alley was the worst thing that could've happened to you.

there is a dull throbbing that has settled between his brows, and toji puts his face in his palms, exhaling heavily. he wishes that you were here. wishes that you would open the front door and chatter away to your heart's content. wishes that you'd easily forget that fool who's taking you out tonight and look toji's way instead. wishes that you'd sit next to him on the couch and let the warmth of your arm bleed into his skin.

(he doesn't mind hearing you talk. your voice has a lovely timbre to it, not too harsh and not too grating. he thinks that the waves of your laugh would soothe the pain in his head very quickly.

he doesn't like that there's someone else. he knows it has nothing to do with you—after all you deserve someone who treats you well. someone who can lay the world at your feet even before you ask. and he understands that he is not that person and will never be that person so long as ears sprout atop his head and his teeth are elongated and sharp.

he is irked by the craving for warmth he has developed. he wonders why he doesn't miss his solitude. instead the empty space feels awfully full when you're around—not suffocating, just full. he thinks he wouldn't mind sharing that space with you for a long time.)

toji's fingers twitch in irritation, and he flops back, draping across your couch. his eyes conjure up floating patterns against your ceiling, and he cannot blink them away no matter how hard he tries. it is a struggle to dispel these thoughts—the oh so valiant fighter losing a battle as simple as this. it's almost laughable.

there is a sour taste in toji's mouth because he knows what this is. that damn feeling that everyone raves about. the one people are willing to do anything for. a blessing, a curse. able to make life worth living and yet wars were fought over it.

something he never deserved.

if he had common sense, he'd leave well enough alone. it's bad enough that he feels indebted to you, but bringing any other feelings into whatever arrangement you both seemed to have feels almost self-destructive. especially because he'd be the last person on earth to have a chance anyway.

he does not know why that conclusion feels so damn prickly.

toji sits up straight, eyes burning holes into the armrest of your couch. then he reaches over, grabs the tv remote, and turns the tv on to some random show. then hits the volume button more times than he probably should. he can't help it—the silence in your apartment is deafening.

another less than graceful flop back into the heat of your couch. heavy eyes bore into the ceiling once more. if he strains hard enough, toji can imagine your reactions to the dialogues coming from the tv. his lips pull up to the side, wry and somewhat wistful.

he's pushing his luck. you should really send someone to get rid of him. he's gotten too full of himself, thinking that he knows you so well.

toji thinks that if he focuses hard enough, he can find remnants of you in the couch's fibers. sweet shampoo, detergent, faint traces of curry, and the hints of your natural scent that pushes through all the artificial ones.

toji's eyes go unfocused the more attention he pays to that scent. invading his senses and pulling fatigue away from the sinews of his muscles like it's easy. behind his eyelids, his mind is able to conjure up an image of you—and he's honestly surprised at how detailed it is.

you've managed to fully consume him now.

(all that talk of sinking his claws into you when he hadn't even realized you'd gotten to him first.

soft, untouched fingers gently curling around beating muscle and tissue. sweet caresses of blood-filled chambers, honey slipping through the valves. addictive, drug-like. a shot of adrenaline.

one squeeze of your fingers and he'd bleed all over the place.)

toji inhales sharply. before he's even fully awake, scents are invading his nose. the bus, sweet shampoo, olive oil, pungent cologne.

he finds you. his shoulders relax. the door clicks open, your unique footsteps quietly pressing against the hardwood. toji suddenly feels all too weary, throwing a heavy arm across his face because he's still trying to remember what he was dreaming about—grasping at straws.

"you asleep?" your voice is quiet, probably out of consideration in case he really was sleeping. his ears flick at the sounds of your coat being pulled off.

"no," he responds—groggy. he doesn't make an effort to move, staring at the same ceiling he fell asleep looking at. your smile is etched behind his eyelids.

"good," you chirp. he hears the drop of your keys into the bowl. your footsteps get louder. "i brought food back."

a noncommittal grunt in return, and your laugh is almost breathless. your face makes its way into his line of sight. half smile almost wry, you bend over the back of the couch and study his expression.

the spark in your eye is lively, almost vivacious. it sends adrenaline through toji's veins almost instantaneously. he can't see the ceiling anymore, your face obscuring it perfectly. he watches your hair fall with the weight of gravity, studies it like it's a necessity.

beautiful, he wants to say. but he doesn't know how to articulate that word aloud. so it remains hidden in the backlogs of his brain that never see the light of day.

"did you already eat?" you ask, and he shakes his head no. he doesn't mention his failed attempt at going to bring you takeout. screw his damn grandfather.

he sits up straight, and you walk around the couch and take a seat next to him. "how come? you aren't hungry?"

"not really," he mutters, shutting his eyes. that throbbing between his brows has returned. when he glances at you from the corner of his eye, you're giving him a look that is comically skeptical.

"you're not?" your voice goes dramatically worried, and you lean over and press a palm to his forehead like it's the end of the world. "toji not being hungry? what, are you sick?"

he snorts out a sound that sounds suspiciously like a laugh, reaching up to tug at your wrist with an exasperated roll of his eyes. "don't be ridiculous. you're so dramatic."

you grin, watching him stand up and pop his joints with a groan. toji glances at you for a split second. the hair on the back of his neck stands, a chill running down his spine. he feels like someone is chasing him, getting closer and closer with outreached claws. claws that would crush you almost easily—like paper. he swallows, glancing over his shoulder to peek out your window.

darkness is all he's greeted with.

toji sighs heavily, massaging his temples. he realizes that you're still staring at him, so he forces a vaguely disinterested expression—so carefully neutral. "changed my mind. i'm starving now. where's the food?"

a beat of silence passes, and he turns to look at you expectantly.

balancing on your knees, you peer at him from over the back of the couch, a cautious look in your eye. "you okay?"

he bristles. he hates that you can take him apart like that. that you can see the irritation settling in the crinkle of his brows. that it somehow feels so easy for you to see right through him.

he briefly considers spilling his guts to you then and there, but then that one image flashes behind his eyes once more. the image of bulky soldiers holding heavy guns in your face, and the words die on his tongue. "'m fine."

you raise a brow, eyes raking over his expression. he can tell you don't believe him at all, but he doesn't want to discuss this any further. he's decided that he won't take such risks—not with you anyway.

you look less than pleased as you watch him stand up and walk into the kitchen, effectively cutting the conversation short. but you don't say anything, choosing to just attach yourself to his shadow and follow him. your hesitant expression makes him feel a little guilty, but he brushes it off.

toji is suddenly struck with the realization that you've been with someone else tonight. his mood dips slightly, but he tries not to be too obvious about it. "how was the date?"

he is surprised at the way your expression seems to sour. you cross your arms, huffing as you lean against the counter. "not great," you pause, before glaring at him. "and i told you it wasn't a date!"

"yeah right," he snorts, dropping your leftovers into his plate and throwing it into the microwave. the droning hum echoes in his ears as he turns to you and crosses his arms. "why was it not great?"

"well i don't know," you shrug, lips slanting. you hop up onto the counter, settling in like you're about to drop the next great american novel. "he just…wasn't how he normally is at all?"

the microwave beeps, and toji turns away to pull the plate out. he thinks that he can taste blood on his tongue, but he clears his throat and keeps his voice even. "it was one of your coworkers right?"

"yeah, but like…" you suck on your teeth, searching for words. "he was so self-centered!"

toji is grateful his back is turned to you, because the way he's grinning would seem really strange given the circumstances. the satisfaction that is thrumming through his veins is almost ridiculous.

"i mean at work he was always polite and stuff so i figured he'd be nice to hang out with—" you roll your eyes at your own naivety. "but no. as soon as i sat down he started going on and on about himself and i just sat there. i barely got to say a word about myself at all."

"sounds like he really likes the sound of his own voice." toji finally looks at you, and despite feeling relieved that the date didn't work out, the miserable look on your face makes him feel a tad guilty. the wolf sighs heavily, walking over to you with the plate full of food. "here, eat."

your expression goes blank, giving him a look that basically translates to 'are you serious?'.

"i brought the food back for you!" you protest. toji rolls his eyes harshly.

"if this date was as bad as you're making it sound, i bet you were too icked out to eat."

a laugh escapes your throat, and you shrug in a way that seems to be acquiescent. the wolf approaches you, a half smirk on his face that looks comfortingly familiar, and when he is right in front of you, you watch him stab his fork into the food before raising it to your lips.

it is all too natural—the way he offers and the way you immediately take.

your lips part and close around the fork. toji's eyes zero in on the movement almost instantaneously. he is embarrassed that he didn't think twice about the so obviously domestic action, but he can't backtrack now. so all he can do is watch your mouth as you savor the taste and chew, his own throat feeling oddly parched.

he hadn't realized just how intimate the gesture was.

even now he feels like he's invading your space. you're close enough that he can count your lashes and see the flecks of light in your eyes. he wants to know what you're thinking—if your brain is going haywire the way his is. but all he can do is peer into the windows to your soul and search for any hints.

he is not perceptive enough to find anything. all he knows is that you're looking at him with stars in your eyes and that same honey like sweetness dripping from your smile. his ears flick restlessly, and swallows with a bit of difficulty.

"thanks," you mumble after you've finished chewing, looking at him with deliberation. "you eat the rest."

"you sure?" he asks, not understanding why his own voice is coming out just as quiet. you nod wordlessly, giving him a grateful smile, and his tail unknowingly begins its steady back and forth movement. your tongue peeks out to wet your lips, almost nervously, and toji's eyes greedily trace the path again. there's an almost bashful tinge to your expression, and toji is reminded of the way you reacted the first time he told you he trusted you.

(warmth bleeding from your skin. eyes moving away from his gaze. licking at your lips. flustered.)

something in his soul had practically sung when he saw that expression. just like it's doing now.

toji is suddenly struck with the thought of how easy it would be to kiss you right now. you're so damn close, another step forward and he could capture your lips easily. a sharp inhale, claws twitch around the plate. his brain dives further into those thoughts almost instantly, and he curses himself for it.

(forget sinking his teeth into you. forget digging through bone and flesh to find the beating muscle in your chest. all of that pales in comparison to actually getting a taste. to have you at his mercy the way you've had him for all these months—a deliciously sweet vengeance. he wonders what your lips would taste like, what they would feel like under the drag of his tongue. quiet little gasps pressed against his greedy mouth, soft flesh against the scar cutting over his lips.

if he strains hard enough he can hear the ragged pants filling the space between you two. his mind is frustratingly skilled enough to conjure up images of your naked skin and what it would feel like under his hands.

he swears he'd be so damn careful. just to make sure his claws don't damage you in a way that only an animal can damage a human.

but he knows he can do it. with reverent fingers that are skillful enough to take you apart and make you sing. and oh how you would sing—he'd make sure of it. sweet sighs and moans and a whisper of his name in a way that only you can say. he'd map out every inch of your heated skin until he had each detail memorized, seared into his very being.

that's what loyalty means after all. giving you every single piece of himself and gratefully taking what you offer him in return.)

the wolf has to blink away the haze in his eyes, turning away while clearing his throat. he busies his hands with shoving food down his gullet, but his mind is still racing.

(he is too ashamed to admit that similar thoughts have kept him up before.)

when he tries to take a steadying breath, he picks up the change in the air. the various scents floating around the room mix together, and yet his nose is strong enough to pick yours out. there's a strange difference to it, a spike of adrenaline and something else that makes his mouth water.

(he thinks he knows exactly what that something is. he'd been able to pick these changes out his whole life. all animals could.)

this is ridiculous. he isn't some hormonal pup that lacks self-control. he'd crawled through hell and back and made it out just fine. your stupid sweetness should not be a weakness—not to him anyway. and no amount of vague daydreaming and unrealistic pining would change that.

his pointed ears twitch as he hears you hop off the counter. you stretch out the stiffness in your neck and sigh. "well anyways, i'm ready for this day to be over. i gotta figure out what to do about him."

toji stiffens, tail going rigid as he turns to face you again. his expression is steely. "what do you mean?"

"it's crazy but he asked me on a second date."

you roll your neck again, and his eyes zero in on your skin.

(if only you knew. a bare canvas. so readily available for his teeth to sink into. vulnerable, yielding, devoted. he'd let you sink your teeth into his neck too. only you. no one else.)

"what a fucking fool," toji scoffs, crossing his bulky arms. he leans back, feeling the sharpness of the counter digging into his tailbone. he looks at you expectantly. "you're not going, are you?"

"nah," you shake your head, smiling mirthlessly. your fingers come up to push your hair away from your face, and toji's finger twitch in tandem. "the whole thing was weird. i'm good ending it here."

"mmh good," toji replies casually. your head snaps up, and you look at him with an intensely interested expression.

"good?" you repeat, with a little scrunch of your face that looks awfully curious.

toji blinks at you blankly, mind stuttering for a second.

(he didn't realize how that would sound. how truthfully honest it was.)

instead he just gives you a glance before nodding. he reaches for a glass and starts filling it with water unceremoniously. "yeah, it's good that you're not going."

"okay…" you trail off, confused. he thinks he can hear obscure smile in your voice.

"i mean he sounds stupid from what you were yapping about." the wolf continues indifferently. his fangs scrape against his bottom lip, and the urge to bite down for his own foolishness is extremely strong. "and ugly."

"ugly?" you ask in surprise, and he looks up to meet your gaze. at your confused expression, he shrugs gruffly.

"yeah. ugly." he doubles down. he doesn't know why you're looking at him like that—like he's just acted completely out of character. it's making his palms sweat and he hates it.

you scoff out a laugh, strangely amused and almost disbelieving. "you've never even seen him."

(a flash of burning heat. a roil of the guts—churning and churning. shades of ugly green.)

toji wonders why you're even defending this fool, irritation flickering in his stomach. now he just feels stubborn—unrelenting. "he just sounded ugly."

you gape at him, though you're smiling while you do it. almost like you're saying 'wow, i can't believe you said that'.

he rolls his jade eyes, downs the water in a gulp, and sets the glass down with more force that he intended. "why? you gonna go out with him again?"

"no…no i'm not going," you answer, a finality in your voice. your gaze searches his face for answers, and he keeps his expression neutral with great difficulty. your eyes are wide and a little surprised, and there's an odd look of satisfaction in them. bewilderment, too. like something has just fallen into place—settled.

a beat of silence passes.

the whole moment feels suffocating, but in a painfully good way. for some reason, toji can feel sweat dripping down his shoulder blades and soaking through his shirt. he glances at you again, and when he sees that same expression, something in his chest does an exhilarated flip. he purses his lips, and then clears his throat. "well i'm tired as fuck. i'm going to bed."

"right," you say, and toji doesn't know if he's imagining it, but you sound a little breathless. he gives you a final look, and when you look back at him, it feels more intense than any other contact the two of you have had. your smile gets a little wider, eyes going frustratingly soft, as you tilt your head.

(so that's what it feels like to be on the receiving end of your sweet attention. honey eyes and sugary smiles. saliva drips from his fangs.)

"get some sleep," he says throatily. his fangs feel like they're elongating, claws feel extra sharp. his tail has resumed its side to side motion. and that fire in his gut has come back tenfold, searing and all consuming.

you nod, teeth sinking into the flesh of your lips. "i will."

you look like you want to say something more, but then your eyes go a little more softer, and when you look at him, he realizes he would willingly lay the entire universe at your feet. "goodnight toji."

all he can manage is a soft grunt and a subtle nod of his head, before turning on his heels and heading for his room. he can feel your stare on his back, and it sends pleasant chills up his spine.

your words echo in his ears.

(no…no i'm not going.)

when he's in the sanctuary of his room, he catches sight of the satisfied grin on his face in the mirror. a little smug, a little delighted, a little surprised.

the same grin that was plastered across your face as you stood in that kitchen.

(so fucking pleased.)

taglist: @h4wkz @babyblue0t7 @en-happiness @ourfinalisation @lymsfm @mahoubitch @teddybeartoji @deedeeznoots @polarbvnny @starmapz @nonamebbsblog @echodead @totallygyomeiswife @venussdovess @your-mum3000 @haydensjw @abadbitchblogs @marajafarli @twinky-wink @t4ters @17362939 @shadowlover321 @koko-1025 @daniella666girl @d1cklethep1ckle @an-ever-angry-bi @hibiscy @1234ilikecowsthanyoumore @thisisew @crystaldreamland @namjooningera @call-memissbrightside @chugao @szired @keiva1000 @yoongies-bby @giamee @hypnoctiis @nappingmoon @tananaxx @twinklingbeautifulstars @friedchicken-tendou @cupcaketeddybehr @sp1racle @ninani-nanina @entumtum @huuuhwhaat @satorushousewife @moonlitreveri3 @seren-dipitt

if you asked to be on the tag list but don’t see your name here, it’s either because your blog was blank/empty or didn’t have an age. if your name is here but you didn’t get a tag notif, check your privacy settings !!

[glystenangel]

you up?

SoftBoyfriend!Sukuna x GN!Reader Oneshot (Modern AU)

summary: you and sukuna can't sleep w/o each other, in a cute way

tags/warnings: 18+ blog but this story is 100% fluff, established relationship, being clingy, calling each other baby, sukuna's highkeyyy a softie cutie baby boy, shortnsweet like sabrina carpenter

~1k

thanks for reading and enjoy<3

_________________

You’ve been tossing and turning all night.

It was getting more and more difficult to sleep without Sukuna.

You hadn’t been dating for very long. Less than a year, but ever since you started sleeping over at his place, you can’t seem to sleep on your own.

Somehow, your bed feels empty. Worse, you feel alone.

“I want to see him.” You mutter to yourself, yawning into the heel of your palm before smoothing it over your cheek.

A few quiet moments pass, and you can hear your frustrated, sleepy breathing through the silence. Warm puffs of air breeze past your lips as crickets chirp outside of your window.

You worry at your bottom lip for a drawn out minute, indecision tugging at your brain.

Then, you remember that Sukuna had gifted you a key to his apartment last week.

“Happy six months. Come over anytime, babe.” He had said, placing a hand on top of your head.

Sukuna had punctuated the end of the sentiment with a sweet kiss in the space between his forefinger and thumb, right where your temple was.

You reach up and touch the spot, feeling vaguely pathetic because of how much you miss your gruff yet affectionate boyfriend.

The persistent thought repeats over and over.

I miss him. I miss him. I miss him.

Finally, you sit up with a resolute sigh and swing your feet out of bed.

You quickly bundle up and then grab your keys, nerves fluttering in your stomach as you run your thumb over the metal grooves of Sukuna’s apartment key.

In all honesty, you’re so excited to see him. You just hope that he won’t be too weirded out by you coming over so late.

You pick up your phone and start typing a heads up to him, deftly switching hands to open the door.

“Oh, shit. Hey.”

The familiar voice startles you, and you look up to see Sukuna standing right in front of you.

The roguish grin donned across his face is absolutely infectious. The lifted corners of his mouth only widen when you mirror his expression, the point of his canines complementing the sharp cut of his jawline. Even though every part of Sukuna seems rough, especially with his huge stature and penchant for swearing, his gaze is so soft and open whenever he stares at you.

It’s one of the many reasons why you love him. Plus, he looks too pretty with sweatpants hanging off of his hips.

He also has on a zipped open, baggy jacket that fully displays an olive green band tee. If you look closely, you can see peeks of his ruffled, rosy toned hair underneath the black baseball cap and jacket hood he had thrown over the mussed strands. He touches the brim of it with a hand to lower the cap further, and his sleeve slides down to reveal the tattoos inked above his wrist and further up his arm.

The shy gesture has you immediately jumping up to hug him, a stunned laugh leaving you but feeling happy nonetheless at his unexpected appearance.

“Sukuna!” You exclaim, heart warming when he reciprocates your joy and wraps strong arms around your torso.

Held in his arms, you realize the embrace provides a fond reminder that it really is the little things.

The brush of his cheek against your own, the faint scent of woodsy cologne, and the steady heartbeat beneath your fingertips when you slide your hands down to his chest.

He bends down to kiss around the crown of your head and then your smiling lips. He keeps his hands clasped over yours, and you can feel the rhythm of his heart quickening from your touch.

You hum into the press of his lips, keeping your hands softly resting on his solid chest.

Once Sukuna pulls away, he sends you a nervous look. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him embarrassed, so you practically swoon at how adorable his hesitation is.

“I was just about to call you. I know it’s late and I don’t mean to be weird but-” He bites his lip, and then rakes a large hand across the back of his neck, “Damn it, I missed you. Couldn’t sleep without my new teddy bear, I guess.”

He sweeps his sightline up to you, as if gauging your reaction, and you smile so widely that it hurts your cheeks.

“Really, baby?”

He gazes at you for a brief moment, drinking in your features and then letting out a smitten sigh, “Of course, baby.”

You start laughing as he steps closer to dot your cheeks and nose with a flurry of kisses.

“I missed you. I missed you. I fucking missed you, okay?”

“Okay, stop!” You breathlessly command, and he lets out a tired grumble.

“Okay, okay. Don’t act like you didn’t miss me either though.”

“I did. I was actually about to head to your place.” You sheepishly draw out his apartment key from your pocket, and it glints in the low light.

Sukuna smirks at your admission and then scans you from head to toe.

His eyes flit over your pajama clad figure approvingly, “Guess we had the same idea, huh? God, we are the fuckin’ cutest. Makes me sick.”

He fakes a gag at the end of his sentence, clutching at his stomach and rolling his eyes.

You push his chest with a sarcastic scoff and a scrunch of your nose, “Whatever.”

“You love me, and I love you.” He proudly declares, and then yawns into his hand.

You take in his sleep softened face, beaming at how handsome he still looks with heavy lidded eyes and disheveled hair. Sukuna remains striking even when obviously exhausted.

You love it.

And him, unfathomably.

“I do love you.” You agree, grabbing his hand and tugging him further inside your home, “Now, come inside. I love sleep too.”

He curls his fingers around yours, trying to hide his smile by bowing the brim of his hat and failing miserably.

“I think I’m already dreaming.”

_________________

End Notes:

warming up getting back into writing with some wholesome fluff! this is also partially a thank you for the "in the heat of battle" oneshot reaching 2k notes which is so so wild - thanks everyone! lmk what you think of this one, and ty for reading!!😚😚

[lifeismarvelous]

Wherever you go, just always remember That you got a home for now and forever And if you get low, just call me whenever This is my oath to you Wherever you go, just always remember You're never alone, we're birds of a feather And we'll never change, no matter the weather This is my oath to you

[sun-kissy]

helloo!! I absolutely LOVEEE everything you´ve written, everything you do, may I request a Remus x fem!reader where the reader has shaky hands all the time and remus has to help and comfort her? it’s not that good of an idea but I’d like to read something like that ahah😭

hi angel! thank you for your patience 😭😭😭 and the request! here you go <3

sweetness | r.l.

remus lupin x reader

cw: reader has shaky hands, reader is a bit frustrated at the start

“Hey, sweetheart.” You feel the pressure of a warm hand between your shoulder blades, gently rubbing at the tense spot. “You okay?”

You grunt begrudgingly in response and lift your head slightly from between your hands to frown at Remus. “I’m fine. Just, I — I can’t chop these,“ you inhale shakily, straightening up. “My hands are just —“

“Hey,” he murmurs, coasting his hands across your back to squeeze your shoulders.

Remus is used to this, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t worry about you. “It’s okay; you’re okay. Take a deep breath.”

His lips tilt upwards bemusedly when you roll your eyes, taking exaggeratedly deep breaths in an attempt to mock him.

It actually helps — you feel the frustration clogging up your throat ebb away. Your heartbeat doesn’t sound so loud anymore.

“Better?” he murmurs after a few moments, thumb gently rubbing a line up and down the nape of your neck.

You exhale quietly, nodding your thanks. “Yeah, sorry. My hands are just… being difficult again,” you mutter, glaring down at your trembling fingers. “I was making brownies, I wanted to surprise you.”

“Hm,” Remus glances down at the bar of chocolate on the chopping board. “For me, huh?”

You nod defeatedly. The sympathy in his heart seems to be pressing against his ribs. He smiles softly, dotting a grateful kiss to your cheek.

“What about,“ he gently manoeuvres you aside, “I do this part?”

You frown. “But then it’s not a surprise anymore.”

Remus gives you an indulgent smile and takes your hands, giving them a squeeze. “It’s a surprise that you wanted to bake me brownies, whether or not you got through to the end, lovely girl.”

“Now,” he presses his lips to your knuckles, “it’s a surprise and a time for us to bond. What could be better than that?”

You give Remus a small, appeased smile. He grins at the sight of it, pressing another messy kiss to your temple before letting go. “Why don’t you get started on the wet ingredients?”

“Okay. But I get to mix it all up later.”

He sighs exasperatedly, though the underlying fondness is obvious. “Yes, yes you do.”

[trustmypoison]

SVT in a long-distance relationship

Requested? Yes!

Request: ‘hi! i love all of your writing! Would you be willing to write a fic about SVT in a long distance relationship? thank you!!‘

It’s physically painful to be separated from his phone - Jun, Hoshi, Vernon

You guys have a never-ending text conversation that really doesn’t have good mornings or good nights included at this point. There’s no point in it when you guys were already talking, you know? On bad days when he really misses you, he hands his phone over with a deep sigh when he can’t take it with him. Like, does he want to perform? Of course! But some nights, he’s counting down the minutes until the show is over, and he can pick up the conversation again with a simple ‘I’m back.’ Really doesn’t mind the physical distance so much as long as you’re just a message or phone call away. 

A total expert at FaceTime dates - Jeonghan, Wonwoo, DK, Chan

Complete with a recurring calendar invite every week and everything so neither of you schedule over it. You guys usually eat together, even if one of you is having breakfast and the other is having dinner. The distance doesn’t feel so bad when you guys can just simply carry each other from room to room and keep up the conversation for hours on end. And when you don’t feel like cooking for yourself on one of those FaceTime dates? You don’t know how he does it because he doesn’t even break conversation or seem distracted, but takeout just shows up at your door. When you lightly scold and thank him for it, he pretends like he doesn’t know what you’re talking about. 

Constantly sending gifts to you in the mail - Seungcheol, Woozi, Seungkwan

Regular communication? Most certainly. But the little silver lining in a long distance relationship for him would be packing up a little care package every couple weeks or so. Tangible objects mean a lot to him when it comes to you, so he gives you a constant stream of them. Sometimes, it’s just snacks or little trinkets. But sometimes, it’s extravagant gifts that make your jaw drop and scold him for the expense. He sort of lives for the random text that he can sneak to read during a busy day when you say, ‘Not again!!’ Shortly followed by a ‘Thank you, I love it.’ And naturally, he loves your little care packages, too. If one of his members tries to get a hold of it before he can, he can and will fight for it because you made it, and it’s his. 

Just gets on a plane the moment he has some free time - Joshua, Mingyu, Minghao

The constant phone calls and texts, regular FaceTime dates, and gifts in the mail are great and bring him a lot of comfort when he needs them. But nothing beats having some time off to just jump on a plane and go see you. He doesn’t really care if you have to go about your business because it’s a surprise, and you can’t take time off. He’ll wait patiently at your home while you have to be out and do things for you while you’re gone. And when you’re finally home, expect him to be glued to you. The ‘goodbye for now’ might be hard when he has to go back home, but it’s well worth it. 

[meelkiewee]

Washed up and ready for tumblr

sadly, i'm in a bit of an artblock/burnout so i'm kinda procrastinating on some projects by doing other stuff like this eefo character design... sigh

[pls reblog, don't like]

⬇️ my choices explained under the cut

INTRO

i'll start by saying that this character design was brought to life with my kinda limited knowledge of etho and my absolute passion for heavily redesigning characters and giving them my own twist.

THE MASK AND THE MASK's MASK

the first image that came to my mind was his mask. i knew i wanted something to cover almost all his face and for it to be wolf inspired. i still wanted it to reference his skin in some way though, so i added the little metallic plate and the black forehead ribbon as the way the mask holds up.

underneath his main mask i put another simpler black mask that mainly serves 3 purposes: it makes the wolf mask more comfortable to wear without too much metal to skin contact, it mantains the face covered in case the other falls off and... guys i remember i saw a clip of hermits asking him to take off the overlay of his skin to see his face but there was a second mask underneath. i don't make the rules.

CONCEAL DON'T FEEL

after that i slowly worked up a little bit of context in my head while i was adding more details and making my choices. so what i did was making a collage of the infos i collected over time about him and his character and sprinkle a little bit of kakashiki (-cit tango) visual elements.

as we all know etho is a brilliant redstoner and a guy who really cares about privacy. put that together and you get the lore i made up for him:

with his advanced irl tech knowledge, he found a way to transfer his soul in minecraft, kinda like SAO works, and has to conceal his appearance to not get caught. here comes the layered clothes, the enormous coat and ofc the masks. due to all of this i also headcanon him preferring to live in the colder biomes, and this ties back also to the fact that he's from canada ykyk.

AWOO BUT NOT TOO MUCH

i really like wolfie etho designs i saw going around but i didn't want to design another ren with a different palette (my ren is a anthro german shepherd) so i channeled the wolf energy in the mask, the thick fur of the coat that ends with a tail (inspired by marcille dungeon lord outfit, a few notice but her dress has a tail) and in his hair, also kinda looking like a tail.

TYPE: VIBES

the eye of the wolf mask being red and scarred (for life) is of course inspired by his kakashi skin. i sprinkled red tassels here and there to fill in the spots and mainly cause i personally love tassels and wanted to add some red accents for redstone.

his kinda slouchy posture is totally for vibes, etho comes across to me as this kinda lazy/chill guy that channels the energies he has into thinking about the redstone he gotta do and calls it a day. i tried to channel that also in the kinda generic plain clothes.

for the vibes i wanted to put him in crocs/flip flops too but i couldn't otherwise he would absolutely freeze. i had to give him some warm boots or whatevs *sigh*

i tried to make his single visible eye as cute and puppy-looking as possible 'cause c'mon he a cutie pie okay? for the mole near the eye, guys i literally can't recall where i got this piece of info and if it's even remotely true but, i read/heard somewhere he has a bunch of moles on his face irl??? idk idk this is so random, i'm sorry.

SO YEAH

this is the end of my long long explanation for this character design. i hope you like it and if you don't, i know my bestie likes it (he's a bit of an ethogirlie lol luv ya bestie <3)

the end, thanks a lot for reading!

[moody-alcoholic]

On a Wing and a Prayer

Part 11 - Epilogue

CW: nightmares.

AN: I have had so much fun writing this. It was such a breath of fresh air to take a break from my main series and write a quick 'mini fic'. I have other ideas for more 'mini fic's' in the future. For now I thought I should wrap this up. Thank you for everyone who liked commented and shared this around, even for people who just read it and enjoyed it, thank you so much and I hope you had as much fun reading it as I did writing it.

Previous parts - masterlist

As soon as Simon is discharged you all fly back to the UK.

You end up at the house with Simon on bed rest. Not that he listens, he’s worse than Johnny was. You stay in the house with them, sleeping in the bed with Simon so you can help him when he needs to pee in the middle of the night. 

John has been busy cleaning up the mess from the base as well as making sure Simon doesn’t get discharged. Him and Kyle usually spend their days out at a base somewhere leaving you Johnny and Simon at the house. You don’t mind, you’ll spend as much time as you can with them. 

Johnny cooks and cleans, Simon jokes he’s turning into a housewife. When you offer to help none of them will have it, doting on you almost as much as Simon. 

“You don’t have to feel guilty. I can do things for myself.” You remind them. 

“Don’t even think about it. What did you want? A sandwich?” Johnny asks and sticks his head out from round the kitchen. 

“Cheese and pickle.” You smile. Simon’s hands grip your waist pulling you back up against him.

“And a packet of quavers.” He whispers in your ear.

“And a packet of quavers.” You call. You lay back against him and he kisses your head. 

“You’re one tough cookie, you know that.” He says after a few minutes of silence. You turn to look up at him, frowning. 

“What Graves put you through. What I-” He chokes on the words. You break away from his embrace. 

“Stop. We don’t have to talk about this.” You say bringing your hand up to stroke his cheek. You sigh watching his eyes drop. 

“Simon.” You stop, you're not sure what you want to say. You pick up one of his hands. “It’s okay, I spent months in therapy, It’s part of the job. You were just doing your job.” 

He hangs his head and sighs. “It’s not fair, we shoulda waited, you deserve better.” You lean over and kiss him. Deep pressing your tongue in his mouth, you wrap one of your hands round the back of his neck. You pull away from the kiss put keep your forehead on his. 

“You don’t get to feel guilty Simon Riley. I forgive you. I love you.” You sit back on your knees looking at him, squeezing his hand, you smile. 

“I love you too.” He says. You rub his cheek again then turn to lay back in his arms. As soon as his arm has come round your chest, he plants a kiss on your head and Johnny comes in with a plate of food. Simon leans over picking up the packet of quavers. 

“Nothing else till later you’ll spoil yer tea, John’s bringing fish n' chips.” Johnny says walking out the room. You smile and reach over for your plate.

…

You must have fallen asleep in Simon’s arms because the slamming of the front door jumps you out of what was starting to feel like an overly realistic dream. The smell of fish and chip fat fills your nose as John and Kyle walk into the living room. 

“Have you two been sat their all day?” Kyle asks, kicking his shoes off. 

“Mother won’t let us leave.” You say, your voice grumbles with sleep. Simon starts to sit up and you do the same yawning and stretching your arms and legs. John has gone out into the kitchen while Kyle opens the bags of food on the coffee table. 

“Got cod, chips, peas and scraps. What do you want?” Kyle asks, John comes back with plates. Kyle serves Simon as John comes over to kiss the top of your head. You look up at him smiling.

“Busy day?” You ask as he strokes your chin with his thumb. 

“Always busy when we’re around.” John says going over to the other sofa. As Kyle piles a plate high with chips and fish for him, then passes it to him with a fork. 

“Heard back from the medical board yet?” Johnny asks as he comes into the room with a bottle of pop and glasses. 

“As a matter of fact-” John starts as he rests the plate on his lap reaching over to his bag next to the sofa. He rummages through muttering to himself until he pulls out a piece of paper. He hands it out to Simon. “Expect to see you back for duty in a month, Lieutenant.” John smiles. Johnny’s giddy snatching the paper out John's hand and reading it like he almost doesn’t believe it. 

“Fuck you got a whole 2 months off. I only got a month.” He says reaching over to hand it to Simon. “I even had one of those lung things.” He says, shaking his head, clicking his fingers at you. 

“A lung resection.” You say leaning over Simon's shoulder to look at the letter. 

“Took half me bloody lung out! I’ll never smoke again.” He says sitting down on the sofa next to John. You look at Kyle chuckling and scooting back on the floor to sit between John's legs. 

“You don’t smoke Johnny.” You say looking back over at him. John is fishing through his bag for something else. He reaches out to you. It’s folded up in an envelope. 

“Transfer papers. For you to sign. That is if you really do want to come back.” There’s silence in the room, the only noise coming from the low volume of the TV, everyone is looking at you as you reach out to take the papers. You smile nodding then sit back on the sofa opening them up. 

You hear Johnny and Kyle start up a conversation as you read over the standard legal jargon of the contract. You do want to join 141 again, you just hope nothing has changed.

…

You dream a lot about your torture, thats normal thats to be expected. When it’s a good day it’s Graves and his faceless shadows. When it’s a bad day its John and Simon, Simon never has his mask on unlike your actual torture. 

He didn’t do it, Ghost did. That's what you tell yourself when you wake in a pool of sweat panting, feeling like someone is sitting on your chest. Your legs and arms tingle. 

Yesterday was a good day, but you dreamt it was John. You look over in the bed trying to slow your breathing. Simon’s back is turned to you, you can hear him snoring softly. You turn over in bed sitting up. Your transfer papers sit on your bedside table, illuminated by the crack in the curtains. 

You get up and sneak out the room trying to be as quiet as you can so you don’t wake Simon. You step over the hall to John’s room. When you push the door open you see him and Kyle lying in bed. Suddenly you want to go back, leave them be. 

You can’t, you want to be with them. You slowly crawl on the bottom of the bed, Kyle has his back pressed up against John, as soon as he feels you start to wiggle between him he snaps awake. 

“Hey love, you okay?” Kyle asks making room so you can crawl in. 

“Yeah.” You whisper shuffling under the sheets. John turns around in the bed his arm coming over you to reach Kyle. A second later he seems to notice you in the bed, his hand comes up to brush your face.

“Something wrong, you’ve been crying love?” He says his voice deep from sleep. You didn’t even realise that. 

“I just missed you,” You say, turning to face him. His thumb brushes your cheeks, your eyes have adjusted to the light and you can see his eyes shining in the dark. 

“We’re all here.” Kyle says shifting up behind you pulling your shoulder slightly so you lay against him. You smile. 

“I know, I know you are.” You say, closing your eyes. Kyle kisses the top of your head and John moves closer to you pulling the duvet up to your neck. He kisses you, a soft peck on your lips, you feel the tickle of his beard. His arm rests on your waist, rubbing your side as he breaks away from the kiss. 

You close your eyes letting them hold you in their arms, the sound of their breathing lulls you back to sleep. 

…

You’re up early the next morning slipping out the bed before anyone else is up. You’re sat at the kitchen island with a cup of tea in your hands when John makes his way over to the coffee machine. 

“Mornin’” he says, turning it on. 

“You going to the base today?” You ask taking a sip as he takes a mug down from the cupboard.

“Yeah, still got a bunch of intel to go through on the Makarov leads.” he says, turning to look at you while the coffee machine warms up. You slide the envelope over to him. 

“Think I can help?” You ask, smiling. He comes round to you, throwing his arms around you before you have a chance to stop him. He buries his nose into your neck and you hug him back. 

“You know for a second I was worried you changed your mind.” He breaks from the hug cupping your cheeks. 

“I love you.” You say. He kisses you.

“I love you too.” You smile the biggest smile at him as you hear the coffee machine beep.  

“Mornin’ lass sleep well?” Johnny asks, his hand landing on your back. John gets up going back to the coffee machine. 

“Yeah. I did.” You smile going to take another sip of your tea. 

You sleep well that night too, squished between Johnny and Simon. There are no more bad day or good day dreams. Nightmares come sometimes but it’s always Graves and his faceless shadows, and when you do wake in a panic someone is always there. John or Simon, Kyle or Johnny. They’re always by your side.  

You stick by their side too, besides someone has to pull the bullets out of them.

Banners by firefly-graphics

[wlwsoccerfics]

Careful with your Words Honey (Lucy BronzeXReader)

Warnings: use of swearwords, pregnancy and pregnancy symptoms.

Summary: Lucy accidentally introduced your daughter to a new word.

"Lucia Bronze! Where are you?" You yelled out. Looking for your wife of 5 years . Having your 2 year old daughter Evie on your hip. "Remember we don't say words like this okay?" you tell Evie because the little girl just accidentally broke her favorite Paw Patrol Mug and called Out in Frustration saying Shite. "I am sowwy Mama!" The little Girl told you.

The brunette was in your daughter's room picking up some toys. When she heard you she was debating whether it was a good Idea to make a run for it or not. Her decision making was cut short though cause you appeared in the doorway of evies bedroom. Looking quite angry. "Care to tell my why our daughter just said s-h-i-t-e when she dropped something and then told me Mommy says it all the time?!" You tried to say it as calm as possible but your wife was aware how angry you were. "Uh, i ...i didn't know she heard it...i sometimes let it slip during my gaming Sessions with the Girls!" Lucy admitted. "No gaming anymore if you can't keep the bad words in!" You Tell your wife. Sighing softly . "You love it when i use swear words sometimes!" She challenged you. You glared at her, knowing exactly what she meant . "Keep that up and there won't be any chance to use any words tonight cause you are sleeping on the couch!" You tell her. "Oh Mommy is in big trouble!" Evie replied. "She is indeed!' you told your daughter. Kissing her cheek. Putting down your daughter so she could play.

You walked out of the room, followed by your wife. "Babe i am so sorry! I promise i will be more careful with my choice of words!" Lucy told you. Kissing your cheek. "You better be!" You Tell her and pulled her in for a real kiss. After the kiss you whispered into her ear. "If you can't behave i might have to spank you." You breathed out, winking at her ."Holy f*ck!" Lucy spoke Out "Holy..." You heard from your daughters room . "Evangeline Malia Bronze you better not finish this sentence! And you Lucia will be sleeping on the Couch tonight!" You told both your wife and daughter. "Sowwy Mama!" Evie yelled from her room. "But Babe...that's not fair!" Lucy tried to reason with you but you made up your mind. "Couch Lucy! Maybe this will teach you not to say stuff like that in front of our Kid!"

After that you made dinner. Some Pasta & Sauce from scratch with a side salad. During Family Dinner you talked about your upcoming vacation to Disneyland in Paris. "I gets Mickey Ears?" The little Girl asked. "Of course, Eves!" Lucy told her. "And you can wear your new Mickey Mouse Dress." You let her know. Which made her giggle in excitement. God you loved that giggle.

It was bath time for Evie which meant you were cleaning up after dinner while Lucy gave your little girl a bath. After that she read her a story and cuddled her until she was asleep.

You were done with cleaning up the kitchen. But you couldn't rest due to currently being six weeks pregnant with your and Lucy's second child. Pregnancy was a bit rough because you struggled with morning sickness. Ironically that was not just reserved for mornings. Which was why you were hanging over the toilet right now, throwing up. Lucy heared you and quickly walked into the bathroom. Kneeling down behind you. Holding your Hair Up for you and rubbing your back gently. "I've got you Love." She told you. It did help alot to have her there. When you were done you flushed the toilet and leaned against your wife. "Thank you Baby." You answered, feeling exhausted. "You don't have to sleep on the couch. I would prefer If you cuddled me." You added and she smiled slightly. "You can get all the cuddles you want my love!"she helped you sit on the edge of the bathtub and helped you brush your teeth before she carried you to bed. You put on some Shorts and one of Lucys Hoodies before cuddling up with her in bed. Falling asleep in her arms.

[joelsprettyprincess]

Taming of the Shrew - Part 3

Pairing: dark!Arthur Morgan x f!reader Summary: Desperate times call for desperate measures. Series-wide tags: Toxic relationships, manipulation, obsessive behavior, smut, secretly unprotected piv, babytrapping, pregnancy, canon-typical violence, slight canon-typical misogyny. Wordcount: 3.4k A/N: This is the final part to this mini-series! I meant to upload it last night but I added in some things last minute. Thank yall so much for all the love on the first two parts, and thank you for reading!! As always, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. Tags: @dandelion-ranch @i-will-give-you-love @amaranth-writing @heloixe @buneio @warmsideofthepillow03 @thoughts-of-bear @luzzbuzz @batmandallyboy

Part 2

You remained holed up in your room all day, alternating between sobbing and staring blankly at the wall. No matter what transpired, your life was irreversibly altered. Even if you gave away the baby and came home, you would still be the loose hussy. The unruly girl. Doomed to a life of being a spinster and an example to the younger girls in town.

At some point you started praying, hoping God would hear you and somehow lift you from this awful predicament.

All too soon, Elisabeth knocked on the door, saying you were being summoned to the sitting room. You were on edge; it felt like you could feel your individual neurons pulsing and transmitting a network of regret all over your body.

You dragged your feet downstairs and trudged to the sitting room, feeling like you were approaching the guillotine. 

Your two executioners sat on the couch. Your mother had an angry, nasty look on her face while your father seemed a bit apprehensive. It was clear she hadn’t told him yet, choosing instead to let him wonder.

“Sit down,” your mother said icily.

You sat. 

“Our lovely daughter has something to tell us, darling,” she said in a sickly sweet voice. 

You were starting to think she was genuinely evil. You kept silent. Lord, save me. 

“Go on, don’t be shy.” Your mother chuckled. “Or shall I?”

There was no way you were going to admit to your father what you’d done. Eating nails would be preferable to this.

She scoffed. “Alright then. Our daughter…this woman…has gone and got herself with child.”

Both you and your father flinched, him with surprise and you with shame. You bowed your head low. Your secret was out in the open now. 

“With child?” he repeated incredulously. “How?”

How, indeed.

“That is the question,” your mother said. “She won’t tell me who the father is, or she doesn’t know.”

Your father struggled to form words. You didn't dare meet their gazes.

“Is this true?” he finally asked you.

Of course it was true. It was the worst, most painful truth of your life. “Yes,” you admitted in a tiny voice.

He shook his head in disappointment. “I just don't understand how this could happen,” he remarked. “What happened to our little girl?”

You hadn’t been a little girl in a long time, but you didn’t bother pointing this out.

“Do you have any idea who the father is?” your mother demanded. “Or are you such a loose hussy that it could be any man in town? Is that what you’ve been doing every time you sneak out? Answer me!” 

I hate you.

You put your head in your hands and sobbed. 

Your mother sighed. “Now I suppose you’ll wash my feet with your tears next? Stop with the crocodile tears. If you thought yourself mature enough to partake in such activities, you’re surely smart enough to know the consequences.”

The tears came harder and faster. You could barely stand to be here any longer. This was pure torture. You just wanted…well, what you wanted was far away right now, and also the cause of your problems. 

“I’m sending you to the nunnery,” your mother announced, raising her voice above your noisy sobs. “Until this…issue is resolved. You clearly need the fear of God put into you.”

Anything but that! “No!” you cried. “No, please, I can’t! Mother, please!”

“We have no other choice,” she replied flatly. “I will not allow you to bring shame upon this family. Now, you’re dismissed back to your room and don’t you dare try to leave and corrupt anyone else with the knowledge of your actions. Just the sight of you disgusts me.”

“Father,” you pleaded. “Don’t let her do this!”

Your father, the coward, was already standing up. “Well, I don’t think I should disagree with your mother-”

“To your room,” your mother spoke angrily.

You ran out of the room, despaired, fearful, and angry all at once.

It had been less than 3 days since your parents were made aware of your pregnancy, and your mother moved like she had firecrackers under her feet, directing the packing up of your room.

You were being sent to a convent north of Valentine, many, many miles away. According to your mother, you would stay there until the baby was born and either raise it there or give it away. 

“If you ever return here, I have no desire to see a crying brat with you,” your mother told you bluntly. What a pleasant woman.

Well, you were not going to any nunnery, that was for sure. You had a plan. An admittedly rough around the edges one, but a plan nonetheless.

Late at night, you quietly packed a large satchel with clothes and essentials. You were getting the hell out of here, and you were going to track down Arthur.

It was his fault this was happening, and you would refuse to leave until he took responsibility. As much as you hated the idea of groveling at his feet, you had no other options. Raising a baby by yourself was basically unheard of, and you were almost certain to screw it up somehow.

The gang was no longer hiding at Clemen’s Point. You knew this because you’d (ashamedly) ridden down to see Arthur about a month after your final meeting, and saw that the land was abandoned.

At the time you figured it was best he was gone. That toxic energy was better off not being in your life, and so what if you craved his red-hot touch every single day, and touched yourself thinking of him, hoping to replicate the feel of his thick fingers massaging your pussy?

Anyway, you had an idea of where he was. He’d told you before that the gang would probably move further east to outrun the Pinkertons, and he’d expressed his distaste of Saint Denis. 

So, he was possibly somewhere near Saint Denis, maybe on the outskirts. You’d have to ask around a bit. It would be a daunting task– a single, defenseless woman in a big, strange city. 

Not to mention pregnant. Maybe you should have taken those shooting lessons after all.

And it wasn’t like he was waiting for you there– surely the gang was laying low, after that crazy shootout with the Grays in town.

You finished packing and sneaked downstairs, careful to stick to the edge of the stairway. Your parents were apparently asleep, and only some of the help was awake this late.

Elisabeth, as kind as she was, couldn’t be trusted. She was in the pay of your mother and therefore on the enemy’s side.

So you had no one, no companion but your horse, Maverick. He was a very dependable creature and honestly your only friend. 

You attached your satchel to his saddle, then got on and quietly directed him off the property. Luckily the help wasn’t paid to ask questions, so no one batted an eye as you passed by. 

You didn’t dare make a sound, or even breathe, until the manor disappeared from view, and all you could see for miles was the forest and the midnight blue sky.

Sighing in relief, you sped up almost to a gallop, going towards Saint Denis. It wasn’t a terribly long ride, but it was long enough and made more difficult by worrying about your…Arthur’s...child. You still couldn’t quite get used to saying that. 

After some time, you arrived in Saint Denis. It was about 12am, and you were eager to be off the road after getting lost several times and nearly falling into a swamp. You led Maverick to a hotel, where you purchased a room for the night.

You laid down on the bed. It wasn’t nearly as comfortable as the one back home, but it was miles away from your troubles. That was the important bit.

Snuggling into the pillow, you sighed deeply, formulating a plan to look for Arthur. You would try the saloon first; he’d spent a lot of time there in Rhodes, and you were sure he hadn’t changed that habit. After that, perhaps the post office, or the stables. 

You fell asleep dreaming of his beard scratching against your face and his fingers exploring your filthiest bits.

The next morning, you rode over to the saloon and inquired about Arthur with the bartender. “Tall, broad, very handsome, with brown hair,” you explained. “Looks like a gunslinger.”

“Oh yes, him and his pals have come here a few times,” the bartender exclaimed. “They was just down here last night, even.”

Dammit. You’d just missed him. But that confirmed he was in Saint Denis. “Did he say anything about where he was staying?”

He shook his head. “No ma’am, not that I can recall. But just turn up here ‘round six and he’ll surely be here.”

That was that, then. You would come back to the bar later tonight and catch him.

You left the saloon and remounted Maverick in hopeful spirits. Now that you knew for sure he was here, it was okay to relax a bit. And you definitely felt worn out after that long journey.

You stopped by the general store to get some fresh food and an apple for Maverick. A bit of rum would have taken the edge off, but you supposed it wasn’t good given your…condition.

Arriving back at the hotel, you bathed and washed your hair. As silly as it probably was, you wanted to look nice for Arthur. To show that you were a survivor.

Your thoughts drifted. What kind of a father would he be? What kind of family unit would you be? What with him still on the run, still following that silver-tongued Dutch, it would be difficult for you to run from place to place with him. Perhaps he would just tell you to get a room in Saint Denis and he would visit when he could. What if he walked out of your life one day, and never entered it again?

A scenario like that would effectively doom you for life. You weren’t certain you could stomach giving the baby away, but the thought of raising a child with no money or prior knowledge made you equally queasy. 

But even if Arthur let you stay with him– what then? You’d seen the mess that was John Marston’s relationship with his family. And Jack, the little boy. Did you want your child in the same circumstances?

Arthur is not like John, you told yourself firmly. But really, you had no way to tell until he knew.

You spent the day milling about Saint Denis, exploring the markets and seeing the many entertainers on the streets. The people were definitely ruder here, more coarse and quick to anger. It almost made you miss Rhodes.

Almost, anyway.

At about six o’clock you came back to the saloon. Your heart was pounding like crazy, and you mentally prepared yourself for what you were going to say.

Arthur, I’m expecting.

Arthur, I’m pregnant…and it’s yours.

Please help me.

I’ve nowhere else to go.

Please?

You opened the doors, swallowing hard and gritting your teeth.

“Arthur,” you squeaked, then looked around. It was quite full of businessmen, factory workers, and the odd prostitute. 

You carefully took a pace around the room, searching for that familiar form. You looked all over, but didn’t hear him nor see him. Nor anyone from the gang.

Sidling up to the bartender (a different one this time), you asked, “Excuse me, sir, have you seen a…a gunslinger-type fellow here? Brown hair with a beard. Super handsome. You would remember him.”

He thought for a bit while pouring glasses. “Don’t think so, madam. But a lot of people come through here, I might just not remember. If you don’t see him here, you can sit near the door, watch it n’ see if he comes in.”

Sigh. “Alright, thank you kindly.”

You took up a post near the door, awkwardly clutching your satchel, examining everyone that came through the door. More men, some women, even a couple rough-looking folks that looked like the company Arthur kept. But no Arthur.

Unbelievable. Had the bartender from yesterday been mistaken? Or did the gang skip town already?...Most likely, it was just a fluke and they decided not to come today. Dammit!

After about half an hour of waiting, you gave up, just wanting to lie down. You dejectedly got up and exited the saloon.

However, as soon as you did, you almost ran face first into someone’s horse.

The horse nearly trampled you, and you screamed in fear as you tripped and fell to the ground.

“What the hell?!” you cried, shaken. What idiot couldn’t control their horse?

“Dammit, sorry, lady,” a gruff voice spoke. The man got his horse under control after a bit of calming. “You okay– wait…do I know you?”

You got up, dusting off your skirt, looked closer at the man and gasped. It was Bill Williamson, another member of the Van Der Linde gang!

This was an extremely lucky situation. “Bill?” you asked, praying you were right.

“Yeah,” he confirmed. “Ain’t you…wasn’t you Arthur’s little thing?”

You crossed your arms. “Yes, I know Arthur. Is he here?”

Bill shook his head. “No, he’s back at camp–, err, well, no. He ain’t here. You know, he acted mighty strange after you left–”

“Can you take me to him? Please, Bill,” you begged. “It’s imperative.”

He sighed and scratched his nose. “I was plannin’ on gettin’ drunk…but I s’pose so. But keep your voice down, we’re not exactly best buds with the Pinkertons right now. You got a horse?”

“I do.” 

You quickly mounted Maverick, then followed Bill out of Saint Denis towards the gang’s camp. You were practically buzzing with nervousness. The courage you’d had last night had been used up, and now you were just scared. Would he reject you, force you back to your parents? Or claim that the baby wasn’t his? What if he had a new girl?!

You cleared your throat. “Has he…err, has Arthur…been seeing anyone else since I left?”

Bill laughed. “Arthur? Hell no. I swear, all he talks about is you. Back in Rhodes, he swore up and down you would be back soon. Heh, we all had a good laugh at him then. But I guess the joke’s on us, now that you’re here.”

Well, that was good at least. But why was he so sure you would be back? You’d mutually agreed never to contact each other again.

It was kind of ironic. You’d insisted on cutting him off, yet here you were, chasing him down.

After a few minutes of riding, you finally arrived at the dilapidated house the gang was calling their home. It looked more like a demolition zone to you, but you supposed they would take what they could get after Rhodes.

“Here we are, little lady,” Bill announced. “Arthur!”

You dismounted your horse and went into the main campsite. Karen, Javier, Charles…the gang was all here. You got a few greetings and hand waves from the women.

“Arthur,” Bill barked. “You got a visitor, get out here!”

You stood awkwardly by the entrance of the house, looking in the propped open door, waiting for Arthur with bated breath.

Dutch was sitting by the front door, reading. He looked up when you approached. “Well, welcome back, sweetheart,” he said in that demeaning voice. “You wasn’t followed, were you? A lot of people want us dead right now.”

“Err, no sir, I don’t think so,” you squeaked. Dutch made you uncomfortable. You got the feeling he thought of women as delicate creatures that were lesser than men. Even with the few times you’d been to camp, you had heard the cruel words he flung at and about Molly.

You just hoped none of it had rubbed off on Arthur. You knew he was fiercely loyal to the man.

Heavy footsteps could be heard from inside the house. “Alright, I’m comin’, shut up,” a familiar voice grunted.

A lightning strike bolted down between your legs and you gasped softly when Arthur’s familiar, muscular form filled your vision.

“What-” he started, then froze when his eyes landed on you. His lips parted, but no words came out for a second. “You-”

“Arthur,” you whispered.

This was the greatest day of his life.

Arthur was certain he’d failed to impregnate you. That you’d been living fine all this time, not sparing a single thought to his well being.

But you were here. You’d hunted him down, somehow, and you looked scared out of your mind. And he could guess why.

He licked his lips. “What’re you doin’ here, sweetheart?”

You stared at him for a good few seconds, transfixed by his rugged beauty. “Can we talk somewhere private?”

Arthur took you to the back of the house. The two of you sat in the grass, legs crossed.

“How’d you find me?” he asked.

“By chance,” you said. “I knew you went east, so I asked around at Saint Denis– then I ran straight into Bill.”

He nodded. “You…you got somethin’ to tell me?”

You took a deep breath. Now that the moment was actually here, every nerve in your body was thrumming with anticipation. “I’m…well, actually, I’m…pregnant.”

The only sound was the chirping of birds. 

“Excuse me?” he said quietly.

You felt ashamed. “I’m with child, Arthur. My parents done kicked me out because of it. S’why I came here.”

“You’re pregnant,” he said slowly, like he’d never heard the word before.

“Yes. And you’re the father for sure.”

He stayed silent for a bit, but you could hear his breath accelerate sharply.

You felt scared of what he was thinking. “Arthur?”

After a long period of silence, he said, “Are you showin’ yet?”

What an odd question. “A little.”

“Can I see?”

What? But you obliged, letting him lift up your skirt high enough to show off your bump.

Arthur inhaled sharply, then put his hand on your belly. “That’s– that’s my baby,” he murmured, almost to himself.

“I’m about 4 months along, I think,” you said, fixing your clothes. “So…so are you going to…step up? I don’t have anyone else, Arthur.” Your voice turned squeaky and desperate, and tears threatened to fall from your eyes. “My parents wanted to send me to a convent–”

“Baby, hey, shh. I can promise you I ain’t goin’ nowhere,” Arthur said hoarsely. “You’re staying here with me.”

You felt butterflies in your stomach at his declaration. He was such a…man. Never afraid to take responsibility or action. You were supremely glad that he was going to take care of you and the baby. However long the gang could outrun the Pinkertons, he would, you knew it.

Arthur embraced you, curving his hands around your stomach and kissing your cheek. The two of you rocked back and forth for a minute, in unadulterated bliss. Everything melted away: the camp, the law, your parents. It was just you and him. And the baby between you.

"Told ya, you belong with me," he whispered in your ear.

Arthur was right. You came back again and again and again because you craved the action. You craved excitement and freedom and yes, even bloodshed to a certain extent. There was no use trying to leave him when he represented everything you wanted in life, even the most sinful things.

He was made for you.

Arthur hustled you back up to where Dutch was, fighting a raging erection. Seeing his girl growing round with his baby was insanely satisfying. He felt that was an appropriate reward for everything he had worked for.

And now you were certain to be stuck with him. With a baby in you, you couldn’t do much of anything, much less run away again. He would gently insist that you stay in Shady Belle to recuperate from your no doubt difficult journey east, then as the months went by you would grow more and more dependent on him, stomach getting bigger every day, till you needed his help with the simplest tasks.

He would do it all for you. All this time, Arthur had tried to make you see that your place was by his side. It was just unfortunate that he’d had to resort to deceit to make you realize the truth.

But no matter. All was forgiven. He couldn’t wait to see your pregnant body and show you off to everyone in camp.

And just maybe he would put another kid or two in you, in case you had any doubts after the first one.

Arthur sighed in contentment as he approached Dutch to explain the situation. No matter what, he knew your love was genuine. It burned brighter than the sun, certain to destroy anyone that dared cross its path.

You, him, and your child– you would make a picture perfect family. He was certain of it.

End.

[miniseokminnies]

waste a moment —- w.jh

❅ pairing: wen junhui x gn!reader ❅ theme: fluff, strangers to lovers ❅ w/c: 5k ❅ warnings: mentions of food, stressful work environment, mentions of death (not plot relevant) ❅ a/n: written as part of the Winter with You collab put on by @camandemstudios - make sure to check out the full collab masterlist here!! every writer involved is so extremely talented! send over some love! shout out to @tusswrites and @haologram for keeping me sane and beta reading! ❅ tags: @ylangelegy, @gyubakeries, @seungkw1, @myhimbomingi, @crab-ranjun, @heechwe

The only sound you can hear is your own steps on the pavement as you run to your bus stop, you are late,  so late.  You knew the ninth time hitting snooze this morning was too many, but of course, you did it anyway.  The weather outside is slowly getting colder and gloomier as the world prepares for autumn to come, so what could a few more moments in your warm bed hurt? 

As it turns out, your feet, the concrete was unforgiving and your flat-soled shoes provided little cushioning.  Pushing the last few blocks to your stop your lungs were starting to burn, running was not typically something you took joy in.  Rounding the corner, something felt out of place.  

The early morning haze was interrupted by the glow of a neon “open” sign affixed to the window of the only permanent building near the bus stop shelter.  This building never stood out to you, it was always quiet and dark when you got on and off the bus.  Every morning and every evening, without fail whoever owned the building got there after you and left before you.  The smell of spices wafted out of the door and almost made you stop before you realized this all meant that you were even later than you thought you were.  The bus you usually take was long gone by now and you didn’t even know the schedule well enough to know when the next one would arrive.  

Sighing, you accepted your fate and moved toward the shelter and squatted in front of where the stray cats always play.  A small orange kitten was playing with the weeds growing out from the cracks in the sidewalk.  You reached out to pet him, and as soon as his attention settled on you, he flopped to the side and tried to playfully bite your fingers as you wiggled them. 

You heard the bus approach the kitten trotted away toward the restaurant.  Once settled in your seat on the bus you check your watch, 7:45 am and still another 15 minute bus ride to work.  You sigh and prepare yourself for the reprimand you will surely get once you arrive.      

“You’re late.”

“I know, I’m so sorry, Ms. Lee,” you bowed your head apologetically, “I missed the first bus…I had to wait for the next one.”  Ms. Lee, the head nurse of your unit, swiveled around in her chair.  

“Well, you could have called,” she gestured to the phone at the nurse’s station, “Eunbi had to stay after her night shift to cover for you.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Just don’t let it happen again,” she stood up from her chair, “Get changed,” she began to walk away and turned back to you briefly, “Oh, and Y/N?” You nodded, “I’m sure you won’t mind staying late tonight to even out the shifts for Eunbi, hm?” 

“Of course not,” you muttered, a certain dread settled in your stomach as you walked to the nurse’s changing room.  By staying late tonight you will run into the same problem you had this morning.  You don’t know the next bus after your usual one.  You shuffled into the room and caught sight of Eunbi slipping into her coat.  

“Good morning, Y/N!” She smiled at you.  

“Eunbi, I’m so sorry for making you stay late!” You slumped against your locker, “it was a total accident I missed my bus and-”

“Woah!” She laughed and reached out to smooth her hands over your arms.  “It’s totally okay, it happens, you’ve covered for me before.”  

“It’s just that…Ms. Lee,” you started.

“She’s a crotchety old bat,” she rolled her eyes.  “We all think so, no one else here is mad at you.”

“Thank you,” you let go of a breath you didn’t know you were holding in, “but I’m still covering the first 45 minutes of your shift tonight, don’t try to tell me no.”   

“Alright, alright, see you at shift change.” She smiled and squeezed your arms before leaving you alone in the quiet room.   After changing as quickly as possible you made your way back to the nurse’s station to catch up on what you missed.  

“Mr. Kang in 304 has been looking for you all morning,” Ms. Lee informed you as she pushed his file into your hand, “he will only take his medication from you if you could help him right away.” 

Your knock on the door of room 304 echoed down the hallway.  It was still early so the quiet of a hospital before a day begins was generally still intact.  You pushed through the door to see Mr. Kang propped up on his pillows, smiling at you.  

Mr. Kang has been in your care since you started at this hospital a few months ago.  You work in the long term care unit, so it isn’t uncommon for patients to form attachments to nurses here.  He was an old man, probably old enough to be your grandpa, who became a widower years ago.  A week or so before you started here he had a terrible fall at home, breaking his hip.  

“Good morning Mr. Kang!” You mustered a smile.

“Good morning, Y/N.” He smiled softly and attempted to sit up straighter.  You moved to his side quickly to help him with the pillows.  

“So,” you sat in the chair near his bed when he was settled, “I hear you aren’t taking your pills from  Ms. Lee or Eunbi?”

“Is that what Ms. Lee said?” He chuckled, “it’s not that I won't, it's just that I’m used to it being you in the morning, and when it’s not, I have trouble.”  

“Be that as it may, you still need your medication, Mr. Kang.” You informed him before moving to retrieve the medication.

“It’s a bit late now,” he started, you sighed thinking he was going to try and get out of taking the medication, “but could you take me to the big windows to watch the rest of the sunrise?” 

“Tell you what,” you begin to divide the pills into small cups, “take your pills, no complaints, and I’ll take you.” Mr. Kang eagerly agreed.  You helped him into his wheelchair and the two of you made the short trek to the back of the wing where the big windows were.  

Mr. Kang told you about how he and his wife used to watch the sunset every Saturday morning while they ate breakfast together.  These mornings were the highlight of his week, he was so happy to just have moments with his wife where time didn’t matter, just the two of them.  Every time he tells you this story, or something similar about his wife, you are struck with the fact that you never have the time to do anything like this. Since graduating nursing school your life has been scheduled out to the minute.  This morning at the bus stop was the first time in months that you felt the urge to go against that schedule.    

“It’s going to snow soon,” Mr. Kang pulled you out of your thoughts. He pointed a crooked finger at the dark clouds overhead.  “Be careful going home tonight, I remember how unreliable those buses can be.”   

The cold winter air stung your cheeks and whipped your hair.  Mr. Kang was right, it would snow today, the day you had to stay late and miss your bus.  Because of the weather the buses weren’t running on schedule, you waited for almost an hour at the bus stop and no one ever came.  You had to walk home.  

The snow swirled around you and made it difficult to see, you knew that you were almost home, or at least, it felt that way.  You were soaked and freezing to the bone, you’d be lucky if you woke up with just a cold tomorrow.  Just as the shelter of your bus stop was starting to materialize through the snow you felt your foot catch the curb in front of you. You attempted to catch yourself but there was no use, you were falling. When you open your eyes to assess the situation you realize you fell into an alleyway and were lying on the ground staring up at a few trash cans.     

Just as you decided that maybe you should just lay here and die, you hear the door of the building to your left open.  A man is yelling in a language you don’t understand, is he yelling at you? Before you had any time to think about that you felt a hand on the back of your coat, pulling you up off the ground.  

“Oh,” the man blinked down at you, “it’s you.” With that he pulled you inside.  He placed you in a corner near the front door.  “Stay there.” He instructed you and held his hands out as if he was taming a wild animal.  He backed away from you slowly for several steps then turned on his heel and ran into a back room.  You heard him rifling through things for several minutes.  

Beyond that the only sounds in the small room were the dripping of melted snow off your coat and on to the floor.  You took in your surroundings, slowly dethawing.  The room was actually a small restaurant, with tables crammed into the small space. The room the man disappeared into was near the kitchen, judging by the location of the window behind the counter.  

“You must be freezing,” he emerged from the room with a stack of clothes, “why didn’t you take the bus in this weather?” He was scolding you like you were best friends for years.  

“I’m sorry? Do we know each other?” 

“No, not really,” he blinked at you.  

“Then…” you searched his face.  

“You get on the bus when I get off,” he stated as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, “and in the evenings, you get off the bus when I get on.”  He held the clothes out to you again, as if to remind you why you’re in his restaurant.  “You’re dripping on my floor.” He mumbled.  

“Oh!” You gasped and began searching for a place to hang your coat. He placed the stack of clothes on a nearby table and helped you out of your coat.  

“Take them,” he gestured to the clothes with his elbow, “the bathroom is back near the kitchen, change and warm up.” You nodded at the strange man’s kindness and headed to the bathroom to change.  

You peeled your wet clothes away from your skin, grateful to be rid of them.  In the kitchen you heard pots and pans clanging and soon there was a spicy aroma engulfing the entire building.  Once you were ready you walked back into the main dining area.  The clothes he lent you were far too big for you, the sweatpants were dragging on the floor and you felt like you were swimming in the oversized hoodie, but you were thankful to be warm.  

“Have a seat anywhere!” He called through the window from the kitchen, “it’s almost ready!” You had no idea what he was making or why but you would be thankful for a warm meal after the day you had.  The chair scraped across the floor of the otherwise quiet restaurant.  Now that you could feel your toes you took another look around the space.  The neon sign that you remembered from this morning was turned off, and the windows had their blinds closed.  It was like the entire building was shut off from the outside world.  Seeing it this way from inside was strange, as it usually was buttoned up like this when you saw it waiting for the bus.  Which would make sense, you realized, if what he said was true, that you were on the opposite side of the bus schedule on a normal day.  

“I made soup,” he emerged from the kitchen carrying a tray with two bowls.  He sat the tray on the table in front of you and contemplated sitting down for a few seconds too long for someone who made two bowls, clearly for the both of you.  Finally, he plopped into the chair across from you and passed you a spoon. He moved one of the bowls from the tray so it was in front of him.  You watched as he took a large spoonful, blew on it lightly, and popped it into his mouth.  His eyes closed and he was obviously proud of the dish.  

Suddenly, his eyes snapped open and he stared at you.  “Do you like spice?” he asked around the soup in his mouth, sounding muffled and panicked.  You couldn’t help it, you burst out laughing.  His eyes grew wider than you had seen them all night and he swallowed his mouthful.  

“I’m so sorry,” you tried to control the giggling, “yes I’m fine with spice.  Is this spicy?” 

“Oh, yes,” he nodded enthusiastically, “it’s called Hulatang which literally means peppery and spicy soup.  It’ll clear your sinuses.”

“You didn’t poison it, right?” 

“What?” He looked at you bewildered.

“Well, you picked me up out of the trash,” you bring your spoon to your lips, “and I don’t even know your name.” You put the spoon in your mouth.  The flavor blossoms on your tongue.  

“Junhui” 

“Okay, Junhui.” You nod, “can I have a glass of water?”  He scrambled behind the counter to find a glass.  He returned quickly.  

“Is it too much?” He asked, sitting back down, “I handle spice well, so I can’t tell.”   

“No, no,” you sipped your water, “it’s good, so good.” He smiled and went back to his meal.  The two of you ate in silence until the bowls were empty and you felt warm from the spicy broth.  

“I thought you were a raccoon earlier.” He blurted out of the blue as he was clearing the dishes from the table. “The raccoons always get in my trash, I was surprised they would be out in this weather though.” He continued, “I do worry about the cats though…” 

“First snow of the year, and it’s brutal,” you agreed, “wait, you’re the one who feeds the cats!” You exclaim over the sound of the water turning on.  You follow him back to the kitchen so you wouldn’t have to yell.  

“Yeah?” He doesn’t look up from his task, “if I didn’t, who would?” He moved the pot he used to make the soup into the sink.  You smiled to yourself, remembering the kitten you played with this morning.  

“How long have you been feeding them?” You asked, helping him move glasses from the side into the sink.  He smiled at you.  

“Since I started renting this building,” he thought for a moment, “Almost three years ago.” 

“That long?” You gasped, “I’ve only been living in my apartment near here for a few months.  I just graduated nursing school and I got a job at the hospital.” 

“Oh I live near there,” he nodded, knowing exactly where you were talking about, “we live near each other’s work places.” He pointed out.  

“Suppose we do,” you smiled.  

“What’s your name?” He asked, turning off the sink.  

“Oh my God,” you blushed realizing you never told him, “Y/N.” 

“Y/N.” He repeated softly as if tasting the new information on his tongue.     

It has been four days since you met Junhui at his restaurant.  You made sure to look for him while getting on and off the bus.  He always smiled at you, no time to talk so smiles do just fine.  You never did get the chance to ask him why he was still out that night.  

You rolled over in bed and checked your phone.  It was 10:40 am on your day off and you couldn’t stop thinking about the man who runs the restaurant down the street.  It would be lunch time soon, maybe you could convince yourself to make the short trip over.  To eat, certainly not to see him again.  

Without a second thought you were out of bed and fixing your hair in the mirror.  Once satisfied with how you looked, you threw on your coat and went out the door.  The walk to your bus stop is short and relatively easy.  The weather today was much nicer than the last time you found yourself inside Junhui’s restaurant.  

The bell above the door twinkled at your entrance.  You shifted awkwardly at the entrance of the building as the only other patron shot you curious glances.  

“One moment!” You heard Junhui call from the kitchen.  Soon, he appeared from the kitchen holding a tray similar to the one he brought your soup on a few days prior. He stumbled and almost dropped the tray when he saw you in the doorway. The other man in the room laughed and said something teasingly in a language you didn’t understand. Junhui glared at the man and then glanced back at you.  “Y/N, do you speak Mandarin?”  As soon as you confirmed that, no you do not, Junhui was uttering what you could only assume were curses at the other man.  He set the plates of food on the table. “You can have a seat wherever you like, I’ll be right with you!” He smiled at you.  

You selected a table near the kitchen, the other man was at a table near the only window in the building.  The two of them continued to bicker in Mandarin for a few minutes.  You smiled to yourself, Junhui seemed close with him.  Eventually, he broke away, and made his way to your table.  

“Hi,” you smiled at him.  

“Hi,” his lips broke into a small smile, “I’m sorry about him, he’s my best friend, we’ve known each other for ages.” 

“No worries,” you assured him.  

“What can I get you?” He bounced awkwardly on the balls of his feet.  He looked less tired today, his eyes were bright and his dark hair was tucked up into a beanie.  You eyed the menu he still had tucked under his arm.  “Oh!” He scrambled to grab it and all but threw it down on the table in front of you. 

“Any recommendations?” You asked, scanning the menu full of dishes. He took a deep breath and sat down across from you.  He started in on an explanation of the menu.  You struggled to listen to everything he had to say because you were busy admiring him.  He was so passionate about his recipes and the food he got to make. 

“This one is my grandma’s recipe,” he pointed to an item on the menu and looked up at you with expectant eyes. “It’s ground pork and egg basically.” 

“Oh yes, that sounds lovely,” you smile at him.  “Tell me how to pronounce it so I can ask for it by name next time.”

“Xiándàn zhēng ròubǐng,” he collects the menu and practically skips back to the kitchen with the promise of you coming back again.  You watched him go until he disappeared then you pulled out your phone to pass the time.  

“I’m Minghao by the way,” you looked up to see Junhui’s friend standing in front of you.  “I’ve heard a lot about you, I hope you keep coming around to keep him company.” He smiled at you before shouting Junhui’s name and telling him something in Mandarin.  Junhui responded from the back and with that Minghao knocked twice on your table and turned to leave.

About ten minutes later, Junhui reemerged to clear Minghao’s table. He began clearing it of the dishes left behind.  

“Did he bother you?” He asked as he passed your table with dishes stacked in his hands.  

“Oh, no!” You assured him, “he just introduced himself.” You conveniently omitted the part about Minghao letting you know that Junhui had been talking about you.  

“Oh, good,” he nodded, “your meal should be ready in about ten minutes, I’ll be back then.”      

As promised he returned with the food you ordered and a glass of water.  He set the food on the table and sat in the chair across from you.  “Taste,” he told you, he could hardly contain the giddiness he felt.  It was bubbling in his chest and he bounced his knee under the table to expel some of the extra energy he felt.  

“Have you eaten?” You asked, picking up your spoon.  

“Hm?” He blinked, “oh, no, not yet.” 

“Get a spoon,” you pointed toward the counter, “we’ll share.” He smiled widely at you and quickly retrieved a spoon.  The two of you split the meal, getting to know each other as you ate.  You told him all about your job at the hospital and your trouble with Ms. Lee.  Junhui made a disapproving noise when you told him about what happened on the day you showed up in his trash. 

“She sounds horrible,” he mumbled around a mouthful of rice.  

“She is!” You threw your hands up, “we all think so, even Eunbi, who is the nicest person there.” 

In turn Junhui told you about how he ended up owning a restaurant at a bus stop thousands of miles from where he was raised.  He was feeling stuck in the monotony of his job, which he found extremely boring, in China.  So he set out to find something new and he ended up here. He tried finding a job but ultimately decided to open up this restaurant which is like a tiny slice of home for him.

The bell above the door rang out, ultimately stopping your conversation.  Junhui looked up at the customer now standing in his restaurant.  He shot you an apologetic look, to which you shook your head and shooed him away so he could take care of the woman.  

He greeted her as you began to stack the dishes up for him.  You gave a small wave as he was getting her seated.  He glanced at you and held up a finger, as if to ask you to hold on for a moment.  After the woman is settled in he jogs back to the room near the kitchen and comes back with his phone clutched in his hand.  

“Not to be weird,” he smiled sheepishly, “but could I maybe get your number? I’d like to continue talking to you.”           

Over the last week Junhui texted you a few times, mostly to send pictures of the cats.  Every so often the two of you would update each other on how things are going.  On one occasion Junhui requested you come retrieve leftovers from him on your day off so you had lunch for the following day.

You placed said leftovers in the microwave of the staff lounge, you felt your phone buzz in the pocket of your scrubs as you set the time.  You were taking lunch later than usual today so you figured it was Junhui checking in on how the food reheated after he finished up the lunch rush.  The screen lit up with text messages and notifications as you pulled it out.  

Junhui: today sux 

Junhui: this guy just came in DURING A RUSH and screamed at me that there wasn’t a table

Junhui: i hope the congee tasted okay reheated 

Junhui: can’t talk more. people are the worst!! 😾

The microwave beeps, making you jump.  You opened the door and sighed, you knew that there were bound to be days where things got to be too much for him.  You were no stranger to bad days, even when you’re passionate about what you were doing.  It was one of those days when you met Junhui, you knew how he felt.

As soon as your shift was over you were flying out the door.  You wanted to make it to the convenience store on the corner before your bus came.  Your left shoe felt like it was coming untied but you didn’t stop to check, no time.  Filling your arms with jelly snacks, ramen, and a few drinks you made your way to the checkout.  

You made it to the bus stop with your haul as the bus was arriving.  Letting out a sigh of relief you paid your fare and found a spot to sit.   Feeling a buzz in your pocket you pull out your phone once more. 

Junhui: if i see another person today i might lose it 

Junhui: [Attachment: 1 Image]

You smiled at the picture, it was taken from the window of Junhui’s restaurant.  The neon sign is shut off and the blinds are drawn already.  Perfect, this meant that he was more than likely waiting for the bus already.  You could just grab him and drag him back inside.

Junhui was not at the bus stop.  You walk to the front door and turn the knob, it was unlocked.  His forehead was resting on the counter, he looked silly hunched over it like that.  He let out an annoyed groan hearing the bell above the door.  

“I’m closed,” he mumbled against the counter.  When he didn’t hear you leave he snapped his head up, “I said I–oh, hi.” His tone softened immediately when he saw you standing there with a plastic sack held out in front of you.  

“Hi,” you hazarded a few steps toward him, “is it safe? Or are you gonna bite my head off?” 

“I’m sorry,” he chuckled airily, “it has been…a day.” 

“I know,” you nodded, “I come bearing gifts.” You hold up the sack again, as a peace offering.  He held out his hands, looking slightly childlike.        

“Show me the haul.” The two of you go through the small store bought feast in the bag.  Once he saw the cup ramen at the bottom he trotted to the kitchen to put some water on the stove to boil.  

You set aside two sets of chopsticks as Junhui plopped the noodles into the pot.  He told you all about the people he saw today and about while he was grateful for the business some people could just be so draining.  You agreed, you loved your job but some patients were just too much to handle at times.

You watched as he tore open the flavoring packets with his teeth.  He sprinkled it over the noodles in the pot, but you were still fixated on his full lips.  You know that Junhui is handsome, it’s hard to miss.  But should you have been staring so intently? Probably not, right?  

That was what you thought until he turned and held your gaze for several moments.  He seemed to be just as frozen as you were, his eyes flicked to your lips and for a second you swore he was going to kiss you.  

“Ramen’s done,” he said, barely above a whisper.   

The day had been uneventful.  Your job was monotonous and boring, and to make matters worse you hadn’t heard from Junhui in several days.  You still saw him smiling at you from the bus stop but he seemed like he had been avoiding having a real conversation with you since that day you thought he might kiss you.  

You watched the city speed by out the window of the bus and wondered if you had done something wrong.  Did you read him wrong? Maybe he didn’t like you at all, you’re just some weird person that showed up in his trash one day.  That day wasn’t all that different from today, it was snowing again.  You were surprised that there was this much time between the first and second snow this year.  

Your fingers wrapped around the cord as you alerted the driver that your stop was up next.  You gathered your things and prepared for the cold walk from your stop to your apartment.  Junhui was standing in front of the bus stop shelter, you knew it was him by his height and the way he shrank into himself to look at his phone.  The blue light caught his features in a way that made him look almost dreamlike.  The brakes on the bus squealed to a stop, making him look up from his phone.   

You expected him to brush you off with a smile, just as he had every day for the last week.  However, he just stood there, waiting, until the moment your feet hit the ground in front of him.  

“Happy second snow!” He beamed at you.  You smiled up at him, just happy that he was talking to you.  “I’m sorry about the other day.” 

“For what?” The bus stop was clearing out quickly, no one was worried about whatever reconciliation was happening between the two of you.  

“I didn’t kiss you when I should have.” He stated plainly as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. He moved closer to you and cupped your cold cheeks in his warm hands.  Soon his mouth was on yours and you felt so warm that it could easily have been summer.  He somehow made all of the ice melt away and it was just the two of you in the world for this moment.  You wrapped your arms around his waist in an effort to bring him closer.  

He broke away from you and searched your face, “Date me?” He breathed.  

“Date you?” You whispered, your breath turning into fog that he breathed in as he connected your lips to his once again.  This kiss was more urgent, like he was trying to convince you to say yes.  

“Yes, me.” He mumbled against your mouth, “please?” 

“Like right now?” You reach up to kiss him again.  He hummed into your kiss.  

“Like right now, tomorrow, for the rest of your life if you’ll have me,” he swept his tongue across your bottom lip, which made you shiver.  You accept his tongue into your mouth for only a second before he breaks away again.  “Was that too forward? I just really like you.” 

“No, it was cute.”  You assure him.  A blush crept across his cheeks, already pink from the cold. 

“Cool,” he grinned, “So?” 

“Oh sure,” you rolled your eyes, “but could we maybe date inside, I’m getting cold.” He grabbed your hand and tangled his fingers with yours.  He began to drag you back toward the restaurant where this all started.  

 “Yeah, come on,” he looked back at you, “I made soup.”

[demonic0angel]

Jazz has been cursed to be borrower size. Jason’s been doing his best to care for her til the curse can be reversed, getting her a size appropriate doll house with plumbing and a full wardrobe.

(Omg I love the borrower verse)

Part 2

Jazz sighed. She sat on a chair in the doll kitchen that Jason made for her and said sullenly, “I feel like a doll.” She poked at the food on her table, all downsized to fit her.

Jason did not say anything, but his face must’ve reflected it because she glared at him and said, “Don’t look so happy.”

“Sorry, Princess,” he said, smoothing his face over instantly. He handed her half of a cherry tomato and she glowered, before cutting it up and putting it on her little miniature burger. She was too distracted to notice him, but Jason was inwardly screaming and crying and throwing up.

She was so ridiculously cute, surely this should’ve been illegal by now?!

She ate her burger and washed her hands in the dollhouse’s kitchen sink, which Jason had personally installed and then she said with a sigh, “I guess you want me to change my clothes again?”

Jason beamed. “Can you? You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

She just sighed again and shook her head. “No, I suppose this is payment for taking care of me.” She went into a side room and came out a few moments later with her outfit changed into a pencil skirt and a dress shirt with a garter belt and little boots. She wore a French beret and her hair was clipped up with a tiny pearl.

Jason, on the outside, nodded seriously at her and said, “You look good.” Jason, on the inside, was thanking God and every deity up there for this blessing. There was something incredibly pleasing and wonderful about having the ability to keep Jazz in his pocket all day and have her depend on him.

He reached for her and she stepped into his hands carefully. He stood up from where he was crouched over the dollhouse and then he carried her to his desk. He set her down gingerly and she walked around until she was in front of his reports, looking over them with a critical eye. Jason sat in his own seat and looked at the rest, allowing her to take her time and read the large words.

After a while, they worked together in silence as Jazz would occasionally pick up a large pen (to her, at least), and start writing carefully while Jason organized his things and made plans for the week.

By the next hour, Jazz seemed exhausted.

“When is this curse going to end?” She asked grumpily. She kicked the pen and it rolled once, which only seemed to infuriate her even more.

Jason grinned and used a finger to brush against her cheek. “It won’t take long. Just a few more days, and I can handle everything, alright?” She grabbed onto his finger and climbed on like a perching bird, and he paused before obliging and bringing her close to his chest, where she hopped onto his shoulder.

“I want a cupcake for dinner. An entire one. I don’t want to bake tiny cupcakes, I want a regular sized one all to myself.”

Jason grinned even wider and said, “As you wish.”

Whatever Jazz wanted, he would give to the best of his ability.

[marsmaximoff]

❤️‍🩹; healing caresses ᜊ

content warning: gn!reader (married). comfort, fluff. his illness and cheating are mentioned.

word count: 349 ^^

author's note: the emperors' hype is dying, you say? not on my blog. this will ALWAYS be a caracalla fan account, and im gonna post more about him, i promise. i just got distracted with season two of squid game which i'm also gonna post more about (it'll be about the pink guards hehe). anyways, i think no one is gonna read this but i hope im wrong SJKSJSK. ps: english is not my mother language, im sorry for the mistakes. enjoyyy <3

divider by @saradika-graphics !!

his fluffy and slightly messy ginger locks act like the softest of silks around my fingers. the soothing gesture slowly bringing him back, melting away the agitation. all showing on the loosening of his shoulder muscles, his now even breathing, and the way he leans into my touch, seeking that unwavering love i so unconditionally provide.

“what…did i say this time?” he asks the question slowly, with caution, almost absentmindedly. i don’t know what makes me feel worse: the fact he doesn’t remember or the way he wants to. “do not worry about it.” my hand does not cease its movement. “i…i wish to know.” he shifts, pressing his head on my lap more onto my stomach, as if bracing himself. i have never enjoyed these conversations, loathing how much self-deprecation they bring. if he’s lucky enough to forget, why would i plague his mind again?

“you questioned spoke about my loyalty, my fealty”, as usual, “stated i would fancy the idea of leaving you, which i will never”, i assure him firmly. fortunately, his words don’t pierce my heart anymore. i do not let them, for it is not my husband who utters them. “they shall not get to your head, i… i did not…” i know how difficult such words are for him, acknowledging the illness that slowly rots all he has ever been.

“love, don’t concern yourself. i feel all right, what matters to me is that you do. i am already aware that you do not mean any of it.” some masters warned me i would tire of so much consolation, but it comes easy when the love is pure, i believe. “thank you, my love. i assume it is not effortless”, he continues with a sigh, “but you must know how highly i value your company and patience. it warms me”, his embrace tightens around me, as if reinforcing the genuine confession. “that will on no occasion change, you have me forever”, i say with a loving smile before pressing a soft kiss to his head. boyish giggles surround us, delightedly squeezing our hearts.

[kissbyoon]

( 🌲 ) ݁₊ “I ALWAYS COME BACK.”

╰┈ Jeonghan knows how to make you relieved and smile.

₍ 𝑓𝘵. ₎ 𓈒 정한 ˶ fluff, angst, comf * kissing, petnames (love, baby) ⎯⎯ 1.2k ꒱ ✦ husband!jh x wife&f!rea

♪ A/N : this was completely based on this reel I suddenly came across in my highlights and I knew I had to do this !! big thanks to @wonkierideul ღ hope u enjoy reading as much as I enjoyed writing!! (◠‿◠)

"love?" You called out.

Wiping your eyes, you tried to clear your vision as a yawn escaped your mouth.

You move your blanket to get up, but as soon as the cold air hits your skin, you're under the comfort of your blanket again.

Sighing, you wrap the blanket around yourself and groan as you use all your strength to lift yourself up.

The weather was undoubtedly not suitable for outings, but you're sure you hear some rambling coming from the next room and you panic.

“No, he can't be…” you murmur, immediately getting up and dragging your feet along the floor towards the living room.

As expected, your eyes landed on your husband, Jeonghan, who was stuffing clothes into a suitcase. It hadn't been months since his military discharge yet the company is already putting him on work.

You halt, observing his every move; when you have no idea, your eyes start to tear up.

Jeonghan leans back and rests his hands on his hips with a sigh. Just as he begins to zip up the suitcase, he feels someone staring at him.

He turns around, a bright smile spreading across his face as his eyes land on you—standing by the door in his clothes. But it soon vanishes when he realises that you were crying.

You don't remember for how long you've been standing by the doorway of your shared bedroom, sniffling and sobbing, using the sleeve of your (Jeonghan’s) t-shirt to wipe your tears away.

“Wha— baby?” Jeonghan was quick to throw his phone on the bed and rush to you, his face painted with concern. His one hand held yours, with the other on your cheek.

“Baby? Look at me, please?” He urged, his touch gentle as he stroked your cheek.

Raising your head, you tried to look at him, but it only made you burst into tears loudly, and Jeonghan tried to hold in his chuckle at the sight of you crying like a toddler.

Which, by the way, he found adorable.

You buried your face in his neck, crying out loud—your husband wrapped his arms around you, softly patting your back to calm you down.

“Shh… it's all okay, I'm here.” kissing the crown of your head, his words came out in a comforting tone; soothing the trembling of your body.

But your crying continued.

“Baby—”

“Don't go… please.” Your words came out as a plea; desperate and helpless. Jeonghan paused, staring at the floor.

He was expecting it, but not in this way.

He looked at you—who was clutching onto his shirt like it was the only thing keeping you from falling apart, and it broke him.

“I'm not going anywhere, my love.” He inhaled deeply, and looked at you with a softened gaze.

Jeonghan was patient. He was patient as he waited for you to calm down before he could talk to you; gently holding you in his arms, swaying your body with his. Something that Jeonghan always did to relax your mind.

When you finally calmed down, your heartbeat and breathing steady—he placed one of his hands on the back of your head, slowly leaning back so he could face you.

As soon as your eyes met, the same beautiful smile spread across his face and he tilted his head. “So, that was the thing bothering you?”

His voice was comfortingly soft, with a hint of amusement that he always carried around to lighten the mood.

Nodding, you maintain eye contact with a pout on your face, sniffling. “When was the last time you stayed home?”

Jeonghan paused, sheepishly scratching the back of his neck.

“Uh, before… military…?”

“Exactly,” you choked out those words, puffing up your cheeks while a bright shade of red dusted your face.

He breathes a laugh, tightening his grip around you. Leaning down to bury his face in your neck, he rubbed your sides and smiled when your familiar sweet scent hit his nose.

“I'm sorry~” he cooed in a soft whisper, a hint of teasing in his voice that you could never miss.

“This won't make me happy by the way.”

Jeonghan pecked your neck, leaning back to kiss your cheek and jaw. “Now?”

“No.” you simply huffed, not even hugging him back as you kept your arms folded against your chest.

He lifted his head, eyes locked with yours and a gentle smile played on his lips that you wish you could snatch away with a kiss—

“It's just for a week, love. I'll come back and I'll not go anywhere else.” He widened his smile, cupping your cheeks that made you smile faintly. For a few seconds, you both stared at each other, his smile never leaving—he suddenly leaned in, pecking your lips.

“Wait here, okay?” In such a sweet voice, he said. It melted every part of you that was mad at him as he quickly ran towards your shared bedroom and soon returned with something in his hands.

Doljjongie. His pet rock, whom he often refers to as ‘our child’.

“Tada!” He squealed, taking your hands to hand you Doljjongie. You let out a laugh, holding it so gently as if it was alive and moving.

Your face brightened with a smile as you caressed Doljjongie—the silly face Jeonghan had drawn, making you giggle.

Jeonghan was satisfied.

He took a few steps behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist, pecking your shoulder. His hands reached out to rest over yours; caressing Doljjongie as you did so too.

“Take care of mom, okay? Protect her like I've taught you!” Jeonghan pressed his lips into a thin line, furrowing his eyebrows like he was lecturing a child; it made you burst into laughter.

He chuckled when your laughter echoed in his ears. Resting his chin on your shoulder, he kept his eyes fixated on you; the look of relief on his face accompanied by his boyish grin.

“Feeling better?” You could barely hear him, his tone hushed and soft, like you're the most gentle thing. Tilting your head to look at him, you nod; your smile growing when you made eye contact with him.

“I'm sorry,” you sighed, moving one of your hand over his to caress it. “I overreacted, didn't I?”

Jeonghan shook his head, not leaving you with any more questions.

“You didn't, my love.” He simply stated, sighing in contentment as he closed his eyes; settling deeper in the peaceful moment shared between you two.

His words were out quick but it was reassuring.

“I always keep you waiting, don't I?” He broke the silence.

“Hm, you do.”

“But I always come back, right?” He peeped his head a little forward to look at your face, and when you did turn your head towards him; he smiled with his eyes closed. You did too.

Jeonghan pecked your cheek, taking your hand to intertwine your fingers with his.

“Don’t skip meals and sleep well while I'm away. Call me everyday, text me about your day, send me your outfit of the day. I'll be waiting, hm?”

You nod, putting doljjongie aside on the couch, turning around to face him.

“I'll be waiting too.” Smiling, you press a quick peck to his lips and pull away—to which he immediately responds by pulling you by the waist to deepen the kiss.

@kissbyoon ⌕ ۫ all rights reserved/copying strictly prohibited. @/kstrucknet !

[samgirl98]

Connecting a Family 1/?

Next

Jason and his small family go to Gotham to reconnect with the Waynes during his birthday week

This was supposed to be a one-shot. It didn't turn out that way.

“A little to the left. There! Perfect!” Bruce exclaimed.

He turned and talked to the cleaning company manager he had hired.

“And everything is finished? Are the rooms done?”

“Yes, Mr. Wayne. Everything has been done to your and Mr. Pennyworth’s specifications. You are more than welcome to check.”

“Thank you. I'll check in a bit—oh, that banner needs to go over the doorway, not the window!”

Dick went up to the manager Bruce had been speaking to.

“I apologize for this. Bruce is a little nervous,” he said sheepishly.

“It is no problem, Mr. Grayson,” he said, not looking up from his iPad. “He’s not the worst I’ve had, and he's polite even in his demands.”

With that, the manager left.

Dick sighed and went to stop Bruce from harassing the decorators.

Bruce inspected the balloons on the balloon arc for any flaw he thought they might have. What flaws can balloons even have, Bruce?

Still, Dick understood Bruce’s nervousness.

Jason and his small family finally agreed to stay at the Manor for Jason and Alfred’s birthday week. It had been a surprise for the family in Gotham but a pleasant one.

And then Bruce went off the rails, trying to make sure everything was “perfect.”

Again, Dick understood. He wanted Jason and his family to have a great time in Gotham so they would be more inclined to return and visit, but Bruce was taking it to another level. The best Dick could do was follow Bruce around and try to rein him in. It wasn't working.

Maybe he should bring Mar’i to Bruce to see if she could calm him down. If Dick could figure out which of his siblings had his daughter.

“Bruce, can you help me look for Mar’i? It's time to give her lunch.”

Dick grabbed a hold of Bruce and dragged him away from the decorating manager. Bruce had harassed the poor employees long enough.

“Wait, I have to make sure they got the ballroom!”

Dick rolled his eyes.

“Bruce, you hired them for a reason; they're the best. Let them do their jobs and help me find my daughter. Besides. I doubt Jason and his family will care if the balloon arc is three inches off center to the right.”

“I don’t know. Jason has always been a stickler for details,” Bruce tried to argue back.

“Not to this extent, Bruce. Chill.”

“Fine. Fine!” He took out his phone, “Maybe I can use this time to see if J’onn and Clark will still come. Oh, Kory is still invited. Make sure she shows up.”

Dick pinched the bridge of his nose.

Since Bruce learned that Danny liked space and aliens, he had been trying to bribe him with autographs, telescopes, and other space memorabilia. When Bruce found out that Jason was coming to Gotham with Danny, he called in a favor from his teammates to come over to meet Danny. Still, bothering his teammates will make them less inclined to come.

“Give me this,” Dick said as he took the phone out of Bruce’s hands, “Stop harassing people!”

Batman didn’t pout, but Bruce was close to doing so.

“What if Jason calls?”

“Then I’ll answer. Help me find my kid.”

They eventually found Mar’i in the kitchen eating a sandwich.

Alfred didn’t get frantic, but he was close when they entered. He mumbled to himself and checked over the food. All of which were Jason’s favorites.

“C’mon Alfie, not you, too.”

“I have no idea what you mean, Master Dick.”

“Alfie had been freaking out since this morning,” Mar’i said, “It’s funny.”

“Really, Miss Marie, it’s not funny at all to laugh at this old man’s distress.”

“Mar’i,” Dick said, “apologize.”

“Sorry, Alfie.”

“Apology accepted,” he said even as he read a recipe that Dick knew Alfred had memorized. Dick sighed—this family.

“Alfred, Jason is going to love whatever you make him.”

“Hmm, that may be true, but I’m trying to impress more than just Master Jason. After all, I’ve heard his son is a bit of a hard case to get to one’s side.”

Dick said nothing. Alfred wasn’t wrong. Danny could be a bit prickly. Dick still remembered Danny’s glowing green glare and tried to subdue a shudder. He didn’t think it worked.

“I’m sure Danny will love whatever you make, Alfie,” Dick tried to reassure the old butler. Besides, Dick needed Alfred on his side.

A chime made everyone jump. Dick pulled out Bruce’s phone and read the message.

“Their plane has landed.”

____

Jason took a deep breath, taking in the rancid, smoggy Gotham air. The clouds threatened rain.

It was home.

As much as he loved his little haunt, there was just something about Gotham that made him feel welcomed. It was almost like a mother opening her arms and welcoming him back home.

“Ugh, what is that smell,” Jazz asked while holding her nose.

“That’s Gotham,” Jason said proudly.

Ellie held her little hands over her nose while Jazz made retching noises. Jason laughed.

“C’mon, let’s go get that car. I’ll show you around later.”

“Does the rest of Gotham smell this way,” Jazz murmured. Jason ignored her.

They had opted to rent a car instead of allowing Alfred to drive them or use one of Bruce’s cars. It gave them a sense of freedom to know they could get up and leave in their own vehicle if things went south.

Jason hoped it didn’t. He wanted his two families to get along.

They got in their temporary car and took on Gotham’s traffic.

Jason pointed out landmarks and gargoyles he would hide in when he was Robin. He even pointed out his favorite one. He wondered how many times he had hidden by that gargoyle to get away from it all. It knew all of his secrets, fears, and hopes.  

Jazz and Ellie stared at everything with wide eyes while Danny stared out the window. He looked like he was contemplating something, and Jason hoped it wasn’t something bad, like how he would annoy the family…or scare them.

Because of Gotham traffic, it took them a little over an hour to get from the airport to Wayne Manor. They had seen a few accidents along the way. Gotham never changed, which was comforting in a way. Gotham would always be the same, no matter how long he was away.

They reached the manor and stopped in front of the gates decorated with balloons and lights. Jason smiled. He bet Bruce was going crazy trying to make everything perfect for his prodigal son's return.

Jason put in his codes and watched as the gates slowly opened.

Ellie and Jazz stared with huge eyes as they took in the estate and the manor. Danny was glaring at everything with glowing eyes.

“Behave, Danny,” Jason said in a warning tone.

“I’m not doing anything,” Danny retaliated back.

“Cool it with the spooky eyes, baby brother.”

Danny glared one last time. Then his eyes returned to his usual baby blues.

“Thanks, Danny. It means a lot to me,” Jason said.

Danny nodded once and looked out the window, his chin resting on his hand. He looked very unimpressed by the luxury surrounding him. They stopped in front of Wayne Manor, where the whole family stood waiting to greet them. Lights were decorating the doorway even though it was daytime. It was a bit intimidating, if Jason was being honest. After all, he hadn’t met most of them, and now they were standing before him to judge him and his family. He hoped they didn’t find them lacking. Not that his small family wasn’t anything but perfect…Well, for the most part.

Jazz got out first. Jason followed. Jazz took Ellie from her car seat while Jason opened the door for Danny.

“Behave,” he whispered at his son.

Danny rolled his eyes, “They better behave, too. They have only one chance to impress me.”

Jason sighed. Well, that’s the best he could do. Danny was a stubborn boy, after all. It was all up to the Wayne Family now. He wouldn’t help them if they wanted Danny’s trust and love.

Jason took Danny’s hand and went before the family. His palms sweated as he stood in front of them. Jazz stood by him, holding Ellie in her arms.

“Jason, Jazz, Danny, Ellie, welcome to Wayne Manor,” Bruce said. He walked up to Jason and put his arms around Jason. “Welcome back, son.”

Jason soaked in his father’s touch for a few extra seconds before he started squirming to be let go. After all, he was still holding Danny’s hand, and he felt how uncomfortable his son felt. Bruce let go and got down to Danny’s level.

“I have a surprise for you later.”

“Oh, now we’re trying to buy a kid’s love.”

“Danny,” Jason reprimanded sharply, “apologize.”

Bruce laughed, “It’s okay, Jay lad, I’m not offended.”

“He should be,” Danny whispered under his breath. Jason only caught it because of his super hearing. Even Jazz turned and gave Danny a look. His sweet son didn’t look cowed and jutted out his chin. Jason sighed. He’d have to talk to Danny later.

“Come, let’s greet the family.”

Danny dragged his feet as he walked up.

Alfred was the first one to introduce himself. He bowed to Danny.

“Welcome, Master Danny, to Wayne Manor. I am Alfred Pennyworth, the Wayne Family’s butler.”

Danny stared blankly at Alfred. Jason nudged Danny. Jason wanted this to go well but knew it was up to them. He could try to facilitate things but nothing else.

Danny sighed, “Hello, Mr. Pennyworth. Dad has talked great about you. I like the recipes you taught him.”

“Please, call me Alfred. I’m glad I could please you even while far away.”

“Heh, okay, Alfred,” Danny chuckled and then turned to look at the rest of the family. Everyone started squirming at Danny’s stare. His eyes weren’t glowing, but his stare was intense. Tim even hid behind Cassandra. Danny smirked at Tim’s actions. Duke Thomas walked up first. His stance was relaxed, and he had on an easy smile.

“Hey, I’m Duke,” the newest member said, shaking Jason and Danny’s hands. “I have powers, too. It’s nice to have more people who know what it’s like.”

“Hey, Duke, I’m Jason; this is my son, Danny, and my sister, Jazz, and niece, Ellie.”

“Nice to meet you! It’s fun to have more niblings!”

“I’m not your nephew, and you’re not my uncle,” Danny said quickly.

Duke’s smile didn’t fall.

“Of course, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed. I hope you see me as a family member in the future, even if you don’t see me as an uncle.”

Danny said nothing and looked at the rest of the family. Stephanie Brown introduced herself next, followed by Barbara and Cassandra.

“Call me Cass, though.”

“Cass,” Danny repeated as he studied her, “You’ve been touched by death.”

He doubted anyone else noticed; she didn’t flinch or react, really, but Jason knew, he could feel it in his core, that Cass was perturbed when Danny mentioned death.

“Danny, don’t mention death to other people,” he reprimanded his son. It was one thing to talk about death in their small family, but he doubted others would be comfortable talking about that subject.

“Sorry,” Danny said, sounding sincere.

“My name is Damian Al Ghul Wayne, heir to the Cowl and League.”

“Damian,” Bruce hissed at his youngest.

Danny blinked at Damian, “Okay. Nice to meet you, I guess; I’m Danny Nightingale. I’m not an heir to anything, though.”

“Tt, whatever.”

Damian said nothing, and everyone else introduced themselves. The last one to introduce herself was Mar’i.

“Hi, I’m Mar’i. I heard you can fly, too. That’s so cool! Maybe we can race.”

“Cool. I heard your mom is an alien princess. Have you ever been to space? Have you been to your mom’s planet? It’s so cool that you’re half-alien!”

“Yeah, my mom is from Tamaran. I’ve been there once with my parents. It’s nice. Why do you wanna go?”

“Yes,” Danny breathed out, his body vibrating with excitement.

“Before we plan to let you go on extraterrestrial travels, let’s settle here first, yeah, Danny lad?”

Danny walked with Mar’i, asking her questions. The little girl seemed to be enjoying all the attention. Jason and Bruce brought in the luggage, ignoring Alfred’s insistence that he could do it. The old butler wasn’t getting any younger, and Jason could carry his stuff.

Jason gave one last look toward Danny and watched as he listened to whatever Mar’i was telling him with rapt attention. Jason couldn’t help but smile. At least his son was enjoying himself with one family member. It was a start.

“I’ll go put our things in our rooms. Alfie, where are we going to stay?”

“In the family wing, of course. I have prepared rooms for you and put a crib where Miss Jazz will sleep in case she wants the little one with her.”

“Thanks, Alfie.”

“Come on, Danny. I’ll show you where we’re staying.”

Danny seemed reluctant to leave Mar’i behind. His little boy had gotten attached to his cousin quickly.

“Can’t you show me later?”

“I can show you,” Mar’i quickly interrupted, “You can tell me about yourself now.”

“Okay,” Danny said while following the little girl.

“I’m glad Mar’i and Danny are getting along,” Dick said.

“Me too.”

Dick smiled at Jason, “Welcome back, Little Wing, welcome back.

____

Bruce couldn’t help but hover over Jason.

It was a miracle to have his son back in the manor, and Bruce was enjoying it as much as he could. After all, Jason was only here for a finite time. He was also enchanted by Ellie’s sweet, mischievous smile and Danny’s curiosity about all things space. He couldn’t get a good read on Jazz, but Tim’s warning to stay away from her if they didn’t want to be psychoanalyzed by an intelligent and competent person.

He remembered the wary look his children and children adjacent had given at Tim’s words.

Bruce didn’t want to be psychoanalyzed by anyone, but for the sake of his son, he wouldn’t mind having his mind prodded. Jason loved Jazz like a sister, and he doubted Jason wouldn’t notice if people tried to ostracize her. Bruce would lead by example.

Jason had found happiness with his own family, and Bruce couldn’t help but feel pride and joy for his son. He could only hope he would be allowed to be a part of Jason’s family.

“The drawing room is ready. I have prepared refreshments for everyone to enjoy.”

“You’ll join us, Alfie, right,” Jason asked.

“I wouldn’t miss it for anything, Master Jason.”

Danny stared at the drawing room with disdain while Ellie pointed at all the balloons and decorations.

“I think dad went a bit overboard, huh, Dick?”

Bruce flushed while still feeling a deep sense of joy deep in his heart. Jason called him dad. Bruce tried to keep the tears out of his eyes.

“I wanted everything to be perfect,” he said instead.

Jason rolled his eyes and turned toward his siblings.

“Let me guess. He harassed the workers in his quest to make things ‘perfect.’”

“Oh, you should’ve seen it, Jay; he couldn’t leave the poor suckers alone. I had to apologize for his behavior.”

“He was trying to find fault with the balloon arch,” Tim added, “What imperfections could balloons even have?”

“They could’ve been different sizes,” Bruce added mulishly, “I had to make sure they were all the right size.”

“How many arcs are there,” Jason asked, “’Cuz I’ve seen five already. Were you planning on inspecting them all, B?”

Bruce crossed his arms and raised his chin stubbornly.

All his children shook their heads, their expressions a mix of amusement and exasperation.  

“I can show you videos later, Jay,” Barbara, the traitor, said.

“Yes, please.”

“Alright, why don’t we eat? I’m sure everyone is famished.”

“I don’t know, old man, I’m kind of enjoying poking fun at you,” Jason said.

Bruce ignored his miracle child and went for a cucumber sandwich.

Danny went up to the table and inspected everything. He finally decided on a blueberry scone and bit into it, his eyes widening at the taste.

“Daddy, they taste like yours!”

“More like mine taste like Alfred’s. He taught me everything I know about cooking and baking.”

Danny stuffed the rest of the scone into his mouth while looking at Alfred. Danny picked up a cookie and sandwich as he swallowed the scone.

“Danny, you’re going to choke.”

Danny smiled mischievously and stuffed the cookie into his mouth.  

“It’s not like it’ll kill me,” he said with his mouth full, “I’m already half-dead.”

The room got silent; everyone held their breath. Bruce could tell what everyone was thinking: Died? Danny had died? He’s half-dead?

Bruce knew a little about Danny and Jason and how they had gained powers, but he hadn’t told anyone else in the family, trying to protect Jason’s and his family’s privacy. Looking at the horrified looks on his children’s faces (except Tim’s), Bruce couldn’t help but wonder if he had made a mistake in not giving his family a heads-up.

Danny looked around the room. Then his eyes widened in understanding.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that so casually. I’m so used to joking about my death and resurrection in my old life, and within our small family, I forget that not everyone would look at it as a joke.”

“It’s okay,” Bruce said, “Let’s not dwell on it and eat.”

Jason walked up to Danny and ruffled his hair. It was only then that Danny seemed to untense. Danny said something to Jason, and Jason smiled at Danny. He whispered something in the little boy’s ears and hugged his son.

Mar’i showed up to talk to Danny, and the two of them scampered off.

“Is he okay,” Bruce asked.

“Yeah. Sorry about that. I know death is a taboo subject to most people, but Danny tends to cope with jokes. I do, too, to be honest.”

“I understand. I wish he didn’t have that trauma and had to cope, but we all find different ways.”

Jason nodded.

“So, what’s the surprise? ‘Cuz you already have the manor decked out from top to bottom, and the food is delicious. Don’t tell me you got him a rocket or something,” Bruce could tell Jason was only half joking.

“I’m not that out of touch, Jay lad.”

Jason raised an eyebrow and pointedly looked at the balloon arches and hanging banners.

Bruce sighed. Okay, maybe he went a bit overboard with the decorations.

“I asked Clark, J’onn, and Starfire to come. They’ll be here a little later.”

“Oh, Danny is going to freak. He loves Martian Manhunter. He says he’s his favorite superhero.”

Bruce almost pouted. Why did none of his children or grandchildren say Batman was their favorite? It was always someone else.

“Why’re pouting, old man? No one will say Batman is their favorite because we know you too well.”

Bruce actually pouted before smiling.

“I’m glad you’re here, Jay lad. I missed you.”

Jason tackled Bruce with a hug, “I missed you, too, dad.”

Happy New Year!