#ignore how the colored text changes every time ... i just wing it

[mdnnight]

hallo awesome writer on internet. i wanted to ask what are your yes/no in request,and fandoms and characters u write for:p

hello dearest anon!

1 ) i'll probably do any request besides smut and any other taboo stuff ( i.e: incest, yandere etc. etc. )

2 ) reverse 1999 n genshin impact ( + hsr but very tentatively ) and

3 ) i'll write ... probably every character ( BESIDES THE CHILDREN ) but my favs are tennant ( my queen ) , medicine pocket , and idk pavia?

[scuttling]

Lean on Me

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Gender Neutral Reader Word Count: 4,717 Tags: SFW, Fluff, 5+1 Trope, Obliviousness, Mutual pining, Aaron Hotchner deserves good things, Canon typical injury Summary: Five times you want to kiss the frown off of your boss's face, and one time you actually do it. *Requested by Anon. Link to AO3 or read below! “It doesn’t make sense.”

You stick a tack in a photo of a murdered woman—unfortunately one of many you’ve stuck to this board—and turn to face Hotch, who is looking over your handiwork with a quizzical expression.

“What doesn’t?” He takes a few steps closer, crosses his arms in front of him.

“Why would the unsub leave his comfort zone? The first six abductions occurred within five miles of the college, so why did the seventh and eighth happen almost twelve miles away?” He reaches for the board, traces his finger along the circle Reid had colored in on the map. “We profiled that he’s disorganized and far from confident, so why would he do that?”

He looks over at you, frowns, and not for the first time your gaze is drawn to the little crease between his eyebrows that always forms when he is puzzled, worried, confused, stressed, or otherwise unhappy. In short, it’s there kind of all of the time.

For the first time, though, you think of how easy it would be to lean over, press your lips there, smooth it out, and maybe even get him to smile for a change. He has a great smile, when he lets people see it.

You shake the daydream, rewind back to the question he asked, and wrinkle your nose in thought.

“Maybe his circumstances changed? It's summer now, and there are still classes, but students aren’t living in the dorms. Maybe he moved back home or got an apartment off campus that’s within that area—or a job.” He sighs, runs a hand over the back of his head, nods.

“I don’t know why I didn’t think of that. That’s good. I’ll mention it to the others.” He pulls out his phone, and you grab another photo, another thumbtack, but something stops you and you lay a gentle hand on his arm.

“You don’t have to think of everything, you know. That’s why you have us.” He exhales, his shoulders losing a little of their tension, and that forehead wrinkle gets a little less deep.

“Sometimes I forget that not everything needs to be done the hard way. Or by me.”

“What? You, Aaron Hotchner, doing things the hard way?” you tease, and you are gifted a glimpse of his rare, unfiltered smile.

“Okay, enough pointing out my flaws,” he says with a raised eyebrow, though he’s still smiling, and as he looks down to type out a text, you remember to pull back your hand.

“I would never.” He looks up from his phone at that—maybe at the conviction in your voice, which you hadn’t exactly intended—and his expression softens further.

“I know you wouldn’t.” You hold eye contact for a moment, and then turn to finish preparing the board, pinning up another photo of another woman and reminding yourself that they need you to focus on the task at hand. Two weeks later, you knock on Hotch’s office door, a stack of completed consults in your hand. He looks up, that familiar notch in between his brows, a scowl on his face; when he sees that it’s you, he tones it down a little.

“Draw the short straw?” he asks, and you figure that’s because everyone knows he is in a bad mood and they’ve been avoiding this office all day. You shrug.

“It was rock, paper, scissors, but yes.” He huffs a short laugh, and you smile, step toward his desk. “Anything I can do to lighten the load?”

“Technically you’re adding to it,” he says with a glance at the files in your hand, and you set them on one of the chairs with a purposefully loud thump and then take the other seat.

“Technically. But technically, you only need to review my consults; I can review theirs. Right?” He mulls it over a moment, like the thought never crossed his mind—of course Aaron I have to do everything myself Hotchner would never suggest such a thing, even as the team sits in the bullpen with nothing to do, seeing who can throw M&Ms into Spencer’s mouth from the furthest distance.

“Technically,” he agrees, and you pluck a pen out of his pen cup and take the first file off the pile, open it in front of yourself, careful not to cut into the workspace he’s occupying. You both smile softly down at your work, and you actively do not think about that wrinkle between his eyebrows.

About an hour later, he reaches for his mug out of habit but finds it empty; you stand, take it in your hand, and he makes a noise of protest.

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I know,” you say, and you walk toward the door. “I need some too. I’ll be right back.”

You pass through the bullpen—apparently the M&M contest led to a sugar crash, because Spencer is laying with his head on his desk—and grab your cup off your desk, take both to the break room to fill them.

Derek appears next to you as you’re stirring your sugar in.

“Coffee date with the boss?” he asks with a curious expression, and you shake your head.

“Of course not. I’m helping him with the overwhelming amount of paperwork on his desk so his mood improves, instead of just ignoring him.” You raise an eyebrow in challenge, and Derek scratches the back of his head.

“Never thought of that,” he admits, and you pat him on the arm and take your coffees back upstairs.

Hotch looks up at you as you set his mug down, says a soft thank you, and you grab the pile of files you brought up, separate them, and head back downstairs.

“You review mine,” you say to Derek, handing him a stack, “Emily take Spencer’s, Spencer take Derek’s, I’ll take Emily’s.” They look at you like they have no idea what to say, and you just smile, tap the top of Spencer’s head with a folder. “I’ll come back down and grab them in a little bit.”

“Yes, boss,” Emily says, and you grin on your way back upstairs. Hotch is standing when you arrive this time, looking out the window over the bullpen.

“What did you do?” he asks, turning to you, frowning again. You’re so close that kissing that wrinkle would be effortless. All you’d have to do is lean in.

You smile.

“I delegated, Hotch. You should try it some time.” You put your hands on his arms and guide him back to his desk. “Now what can I help you with?”

By the end of the day, his desk is clean and his bad mood is long gone. He closes the last of his files, sighs deeply, covers your hand with one of his, and says thank you.

The next morning when you come in, there is a steaming latte and a cookie on your desk, and you can’t stop smiling the rest of the day. Your next case is draining, children abducted and left for dead, and everyone is on edge, but no one more than Hotch. You’re fairly certain his face hasn’t relaxed since the initial briefing, and he’d be a prime candidate for the old ‘your face will get stuck like that’ joke, if anyone was up to joking.

The team catches the unsub, saves one child, but not until after three are dead; you take a late flight home because no one wants to stay another night in a town it feels like you’ve failed, and everyone curls up to get some rest except you and Hotch.

You try to read the book you brought along—a science fiction dystopian novel, something to get you out of your head and away from real life problems—but you’re a little distracted by Hotch’s sighing. It’s become an every-five-minutes thing, and while you’re definitely on board with sighing as a way to decompress, he’s not decompressing. He looks like he’s in pain mentally, exhausted physically; you’re not sure how everyone else was able to ignore it and go to sleep, but then you figure everyone else may not be as in tune with him as you are. As observant.

As in love.

Not that that matters: you know your issues, and some of his issues, and there’s the whole superior/subordinate thing which doesn’t really do anything for you except give you a stomach ache. It would never work out, even if he somehow, miraculously, were to love you back—and that’s a pretty big if in and of itself.

But still, you notice him, can’t help it, and the sighing is getting to be a little much. You sigh yourself, put your finger in between the pages of your book, and walk over to take the seat next to him; he looks over at you, frowning just like always, and you carefully close his file and set it aside.

Neither of you say anything to the other, just look each other over for a moment, and then you lean lightly against his shoulder and flip back to the beginning of your book.

“I still dream of the island. I sometimes approach it across water, but more often through air, like a bird, with a great wind under my wings. The shores rise rain-coloured on the horizon of sleep, and in their quiet circle the buildings: the houses grown along the canals, the workshops of inkmasters, the low-ceilinged taverns.”

You keep your voice low and soothing, and you are just turning to page fifteen when you feel the weight of his head drop onto your shoulder.

The crease between his eyes melts away in sleep.

You read until you make it home, and you wake him up with a gentle nudge before the rest of the team drifts back to consciousness. He looks at you, blinks slowly like he’s trying to remember where he is, and then gets a little sheepish when he puts two and two together, realizes he fell asleep on your shoulder.

You just shake your head, give his arm a squeeze, and head back to your seat to gather your things. You, Hotch, and Emily are catching the elevator to the parking garage—after staying two hours later to work on some rush consults straight from Strauss—when he looks at something on his phone that makes him groan aloud. You and Emily share a look, and you ask what’s wrong.

“I just remembered I’m supposed to have a treat for Jack to take to school tomorrow and it’s, what, seven thirty?”

“So just stop at the supermarket on your way home; no one can tell the difference anyway,” Emily says, but you and Hotch both shoot her a skeptical glance.

“It’s all about the treats at a school like Jack’s,” you supply, and Hotch looks over at you like he’s surprised by your comment. “If they’re not homemade, the parents talk. Plus there’s probably an allergen list a mile long: no nuts, no eggs, no soy, no dairy. You have to pick him up from Haley’s tonight, right?” You’re pretty sure, but when he nods he confirms it. “So pick him up, go home and get some dinner, put him to bed, and I’ll text you when I’m on my way over with the goods. I have a great recipe for vegan apple cinnamon muffins that will go over really well.”

“You really don’t have to do that; I’ll figure something out,” he says, but you just shake your head and pull up the recipe on your phone.

“Forget it, it’s already done. I have everything I need at home already; let me help,” you murmur softly, and when he looks at you with the furrowed brow that comes with accepting kindness from someone else, you almost forget it’s not just the two of you in the elevator. It’s only when Emily clears her throat that the eye contact breaks. He nods.

“Okay. Thank you; I owe you.”

“You don’t owe me anything.” The elevator dings and it stops at the parking garage; the three of you get off and head in separate directions for your cars. “I’ll text you.”

“Goodnight,” Emily says with a grin, and you wave at her, hop into your car, and head for home.

About two hours later, you show up at Hotch’s door with two dozen apple cinnamon muffins, and unbleached, whole wheat flour in your hair, and he has coffee brewing, a smile on his face.

“You don’t know how grateful I am,” he says as he ushers you into the kitchen, takes the boxes of muffins from your hands, and pours you a cup of dark, delicious coffee. You sip it slowly, savoring the taste—you should have known he’d have incredible coffee—even though it’s far too late for you to be indulging. Unless you’re working a case, you usually switch to decaf by three.

“I know you are. I wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t think you’d appreciate the gesture.” You lean forward, open a box, and pull out two muffins, handing one to him. “I made a couple extra so we could taste test; if I accidentally put salt in instead of sugar, you’re on your own,” you joke, and you wait for him to taste it before taking your own bite.

“That’s delicious. There’s really nothing unapproved in here?” he asks, and you shake your head.

“Nope, it’s all healthy and allergen free, except for the flour, but that wasn’t on the list you sent.” He reaches a hand toward you, and you don’t realize, at first, that he’s brushing the flour out of your hair.

“Messy baker,” he teases, and your heart feels really full, being in his kitchen like this, warm muffins and fresh coffee, even if your hair is a mess. You smile, and he smiles back before dropping into that serious expression, eyebrow wrinkle and all. You think about brushing your lips there tonight, but this feels like two steps forward, and you don’t want to risk taking that step back. “Next time I’ll help you.”

“Oh, next time? You plan on needing my baking expertise again? Fair warning, this is the only recipe I know, so I hope you like apple cinnamon muffins.” You take a sip of your coffee, look up at him, and he takes another bite, nods his head.

“I do. Especially these.”

In a perfect world, what comes next would be a cinnamony, coffee flavored kiss, but the world’s not perfect, and you yawn instead. You look down at your mug like it’s betrayed you, and Hotch chuckles low.

“It’s decaf. I know you usually stop in the afternoon; I wouldn’t forgive myself if you were up all night because of me.” You have always been a person who falls in love with all the little details about someone, so the fact that he’s noticed this, remembers this, makes your heart beat a little faster. “I should let you go. You’ve done so much today, between staying late and baking for Jack—for me. You need to get some sleep.”

He’s right, it’s nearly ten, and you should be getting back home, but this is a moment you never want to end.

You just nod, though, and he reaches out to brush his hand over your back when he walks you to the door.

“Thank you again. I really appreciate that you did this for me,” he says, soft, like he still can’t imagine you would.

“You’re welcome, Hotch. Any time, really; I’m happy to help.”

You get home, clean your kitchen, and have a very late dinner, and the smell of good coffee and apples and cinnamon is still in your nose when you drift to sleep. “You didn’t hear what he said,” Hotch snaps almost a month later, with one hand splayed on his hip and the other on the table in front of him. The moment you saw him engaged in an argument with a member of the Sheriff’s department, fire in his eyes, you’d grabbed him by the arm and dragged him into a small conference room, shutting the door behind you. It took almost three minutes of staring at each other for him to say something instead of just glaring at you for interrupting the pissing contest.

“I don’t need to know what he said. I know you, and I know you handle people like that with a quick, sharp remark and then you wash your hands of it. You don’t argue back and forth, you don’t draw it out. You would have regretted it if you did that today, so I stopped you.”

“You think you know me so well, do you?” he asks in an unkind tone of voice you can’t identify, haven’t heard from him before; the expression on his face is familiar, though, a scowl that only puts emphasis on his handsome features—it’s unfair, really.

You exhale, cross your arms.

“Yes, and I know you well enough to know you’re irritated with him, not me, so cut the shit.”

It’s the first time you’ve ever been quite that direct with him, and certainly the first time you’ve ever sworn at him; your immediate instinct is to apologize, but he surprises you by huffing a laugh. The angry lines of his face smooth into something softer.

“You’re right, I’m sorry. He just—I can’t stand people like that.” He scrubs a hand through his hair in irritation. “We’re here to work—to do a job they couldn’t finish on their own. Not to be… objectified.” He mutters the last word, so low you almost don’t hear it, and then there’s a knock at the door. Derek enters.

“Sheriff wants a word, Hotch; do you have a sec?” With one last look at you, he nods, brushes past him to leave the room. Derek gives you the barest hint of a smile. “He was defending your honor, you know.”

You frown. You didn’t know.

“That jerk was talking about me?” you ask, clarifying, and he nods.

“Something about assuming you’re an athlete because he likes your ass. Set the boss man off.” You walk over to him and leave the room together, heading back to your workspace.

“Well Hotch is right, we’re here to work, not to be objectified. I can see how he would get angry.” Derek shoots you a flat, questioning glance.

“You think he’d be getting that worked up if it was my ass that guy was talking about? Or Emily’s?” The two of you stop outside the conference room, and you cross your arms, lean against the doorframe, frown.

“So what are you trying to say? That he sees me as being weak, thinks he needs to defend me? I'm as capable as either of you.” That may not be strictly true, because you’re a little more brains than brawn, like Spencer in that way, but you can hold your own and you thought Hotch knew that.

Derek just laughs, shakes his head, and ducks into the room. You follow, so confused.

“I thought you were just playing it close to the vest, but you’re oblivious, aren’t you?”

“Oblivious about what?” Emily asks, pen between her teeth, feet kicked up onto a chair, and you shrug.

“I’m still not sure. Hotch got into an argument with a deputy about me, and I asked Derek if Hotch thinks I’m weak and that’s why he felt like he had to defend me.” She smiles broadly around the pen, pulls it out of her mouth with a grin.

“Oh, honey. That’s not it. You know that’s not it, right?”

“I clearly don’t know what’s going on at all, so no, if you’d care to enlighten me,” you say, sinking into an empty chair. “I hate it when you guys are cryptic.” You love your team, but they have a habit of doing this all the time, saying things to each other with their eyes, or just a few words that don’t have any sensible meaning that you know of. It’s like they live to talk over your head, to say things without actually saying them.

“Okay. Hotch has a thing for you,” Emily says simply, and you blink.

Well that’s the very last thing you’d expected to hear.

“He absolutely does not.” You look at Derek, who’s making a face like you’re the one being crazy; you laugh out loud, can’t help it. “He does not. I’m pretty sure Hotch doesn’t have things, and if he did, he wouldn’t have a thing for me.”

“Why not? Because that would be too convenient, since you have a thing for him too?” Derek asks, taking the seat across from you, and you grab the nearest case file, flip it open and focus your attention on it.

“I care about him, the same way I care about all of you, and he maybe needs a little more care—but you guys are reading into things.”

Thankfully, you don’t have to say anything more, because Hotch, JJ, and Spencer return, and you all have a lead to work.

You can’t help but wonder if you’re being obvious about your feelings, though, especially later, when you get back to the hotel and the group decides to have a drink at the bar.

JJ and Emily hit the pool table while Derek and Spencer head up for drinks, and you are left sitting with Hotch at the table, pressed together in the inside corner of a booth.

“Tired?” you ask him, because he does look worn out, his tie a bit loose, his eyes a little red. You know he doesn’t get much sleep when you travel, and you can’t imagine he’ll go to bed even when this little detour is over.

“Always,” he sighs, but when he looks over at you, he smiles, just a little. “Just can’t wait to get out of this town.”

“Yeah, it gives Southern hospitality a whole new meaning, doesn’t it?” The people you’ve interviewed today are, on paper, quite respectable, but there’s a Desperate Housewives, ‘everyone is sleeping with someone else's spouse’ kind of thing going on, and it’s honestly exhausting. To your surprise, Hotch laughs.

“It really does. I don’t think I’ve ever missed the quiet solitude of my apartment quite this much.” You lean back against the vinyl of the booth, sigh.

“I miss my apartment, but it’s been too quiet lately. I prefer the sounds of someone else sharing space with me: the coffee maker percolating, the news in the background, the shower running, the sound of flipping the pages of a book or magazine.” You look down at your hands, because you’re getting a little more emotional than you usually let other people see. “Sorry. I’m not typically this open about being…”

You trail off, but Hotch looks over at you, concerned, the wrinkle between his eyebrows even more noticeable when you’re sitting this close. You think, just briefly, of running your thumb over it, but with your luck, Derek or Emily would see, and you’d never live it down.

“Lonely?” he finishes softly, and when you nod your head, he covers your hands with one of his own, bumps his shoulder against yours. “I get lonely too. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.” You look up at him, feeling a little vulnerable, and his expression softens. “When we get back, maybe you could come over for dinner some night. Nothing fancy,” he clarifies, and you smile, “just two lonely people being a little less lonely.”

“That would be really nice.” You can see Derek and Spencer approaching out of the corner of your eye, and Hotch must too, because he removes his hand, slips back into the slight, persistent frown you have come to know and love. Derek looks at you, raises an eyebrow, and hands you your beer. You try to tell him to shut up with your face, plan to follow up later to see if that actually worked. “We have an agent down on the second floor,” Spencer says into his comms, and you immediately want to slap him in the back of the head.

“Don’t say agent down, kid; I’m like, slightly wounded at best.” You hold a hand against the stab wound on your side—the unsub honestly just grazed you, and you’d knocked him out with a single punch, which made you feel pretty awesome—and reach out the other so he can help pull you to your feet. Your hand comes up to your own walkie button. “I’m not down, I’m fine—just slightly stabbed,” you add, and Spencer is getting his cuffs on the unsub when Hotch and JJ burst through the doors.

Well, Hotch bursts. JJ follows behind looking strangely winded for one of the most naturally athletic people you know.

“What happened? Are you alright?” he asks, and you lift your shirt to show him the sluggishly bleeding gash.

“I’m fine, see? It’s not even deep. Spencer saw blood and got a little ahead of himself.” You turn to Spencer, who sticks out his tongue, then back to Hotch, who looks haunted and pale, with that goddamn wrinkle between his eyebrows again. He’s bent down, looking over your wound seriously—you’ve had worse, so much worse, that you don’t understand why he’s so worried about it—and then he leans up, presses a hand to your cheek, and pulls you close for a soft, tender kiss.

If this were a movie, right about now a camera would be panning around you in a circle, as you wrap your free hand around his neck, pull him closer, melt against his body like it’s all you’ve been dreaming of for months, and the two of you would break apart smiling, maybe even kiss again.

It’s not a movie, though, so you just bleed out against your hand and freeze, because Hotch is kissing you at a crime scene and you almost got filleted, so you’re not sure if this is a you got hurt, so I’d better kiss you kiss or an I’ve been wanting to kiss you forever, and you got hurt so I have to kiss you kiss.

When he breaks the kiss, you’re both breathing a bit heavily, and you don’t know what to do, so you just lean in and press your lips to that wrinkle between his eyebrows that you’ve been thinking about so frequently since the first time you noticed it. You brush a hand through his hair, and when you pull back, he’s smiling.

“What was that?” He covers your hand on your side with his own and helps get you toward the elevator so you can be patched up by the EMTs; JJ and Spencer are left staring, open-mouthed in your wake, with an unconscious unsub at their feet, but neither of you are concerned about that.

“I’ve been thinking of doing that for months now: to kiss that spot between your eyes so you’ll stop frowning for a change. Since I couldn’t, I decided to find other ways to help you stop frowning so much. It kind of became my life’s mission.” He sighs, puts his arm around you and holds you close while you wait for the elevator to bring you to the ground floor.

“I stop frowning when you’re around because you’re around, not just because of the things you do for me,” he tells you, and he presses his lips to yours for another warm, soft, perfect kiss. “I’ve been thinking of doing that for months now.” You tilt your head, make a sound of contemplation, and he chuckles softly. “What is it?”

“I think those cryptic idiots we work with might be onto something,” you say with a grin, and when the elevator lets you off and Hotch helps you toward the ambulance to be patched up, Derek and Emily are waiting with concerned looks on their faces. They must be pretty confused to see you’re grinning from ear to ear. “Hey, you guys were right; Hotch does have a thing for me!” you call as you walk past them, and when your wound is properly dressed and wrapped, you put your arms around his neck and let him kiss you until the frown and accompanying wrinkle are nothing but distant memories.

*The novel excerpt is from The Weaver by Emmi Itäranta.

Taglist ❤️: @thaddeusly @arsonhotchner @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @mintphoenix @meghannnnnn @disgruntledchowchow @azenpal @g-l-pierce @my-rosegold-soul @ssamorganhotchner @heliotropehotch @angelhotchner @qtip-blog @gspenc @wishuhadstayed

[shades-of-stony]

Post CA:CW Fix It Stony Fanfics

Making Amends by TheseStoriesAreWrittenOnMyHeart

Summary: Everything about them happened in seconds. Their first meeting was quick, with Tony landing next to the Captain, each man giving a curt nod and name in greeting. Their argument on the hellicarrier took mere seconds to escalate. Until Steve was goading Tony into putting on the suit and going a few rounds and Tony not so subtly reminding Steve that he wasn’t afraid to hit an old man. It was only seconds of staring at Tony on that New York City Street, his arc reactor dark, no rise and fall of his chest, for Steve to know that inside the tin can, was a good man. Then Ultron happened, and it took seconds for their world to change, seconds for Steve to throw his shield at Tony and for the billionaire to send a repulsor blast back. They went from laughing and relaxing to standing on an edge thousands of feet above solid ground. And now…now everything’s changed. And all it took was a combination of seconds; of decisions made, actions performed and words spoken that they couldn’t get back. Just a few ticks of the clock for their world to shatter.

It’ll take more than that to make things right.

Note: This one deals with amending the accords. It is about how the avengers pick up after the civil war and how they learn to be friends again. It is an incredibly detailed and well written piece! Also, NO TEAM CAP OR TEAM IRON MAN BASHING. I was only supposed to re-read a few chapters to recall the story and give a few-word review but I ended up re-reading the whole goddamn thing. It’s a masterpiece. 

maybe love is the reason why (we're seeing it eye to eye) by parkrstark

Summary: "I'm sorry. Repeat that again." Tony leaned forward in his seat from across the table. He even stuck a finger in his ear as if he was cleaning it out. "I don't think I heard you right."

Fury rolled his eyes-- or well, eye. "You and Rogers need to go undercover as a married couple in a community out on Long Island."

--

After Civil War, Tony and Steve are sent on an undercover mission as a couple to try and find Hydra informants. Somehow, they end up with Peter as their undercover son who decides to play matchmaker even if the two of them are doing their best to ignore their feelings after Siberia.

Note: My latest Fix It read! It just completed today. This fic is a phenomenal read, with its fake relationship, superfamily, undercover, and sexual tension elements! A definite 1000/10!

and this is the map of my heart by CydSA

Summary: The Avengers are splintered - spread out across the world.

There are many things to regret. The biggest one is what could have been.

Tony refuses to have any more regrets. Steve realizes that perhaps he made the wrong choice.

It starts from here....

Note: Here is some sweet, sweet, Civil War Fix It. It dwells deep into the Accords, how Tony fixes it, and the downfall of Ross. 

floating point exception by ooka

There is something, he knows, to see a man as mortal. To see his fault lines and jagged edges instead of the smooth surface they present. Most people don’t like the illusion, whether it be good or not. They don’t want people like him to be human.

But that’s what he is, under the suit and the smile and the sunglasses. Under the bravo and the quick grins. He’s just a man, trying to hide his broken pieces, the dents in his heart, the washed out color of his soul. He’s just a man, trying to solve problems and make the world better. That’s why he’s Ironman, just a man in a suit. Nothing extra.

The place where the arc reactor used to rest in his chest aches so fiercely for a moment that Tony can’t breathe.

He takes in a few breaths and does what Tony does best - pushes it down and goes to work.

(Tony, after the Civil War. Post CA:CW)

Note: A 150k+ fanfic that is centered on Tony, his issues, and his struggles. PREPARE TO CRY.

Not Enough Scotch for this Matchmaking Scheme by desolateice:

Summary:  After Civil War and a lot of healing the Avengers are fed up with the stubborn silence between Steve and Tony and try to take things in their own hands.

Note: A Fix It where the ‘kids’ play matchmaker to bring their fighting ‘parents’ back together! 

Never Eye To Eye by vorkosigan for mrsgingles

Summary: After the Civli War, the Avengers were back together.

How is everything going, Tony? Pepper had asked in her email. It's fine (Tony had written back). I'm fighting with Steve all the time. Everything is going to hell. I'm okay (you know I'm always okay).

(Or: How Tony and Steve learned to be a bit gentler with each other)

Note: A 26k+ fic where Steve and Tony learned how to be friends again, and more. It deals with the struggles and frustrations they had just to salvage their friendship.  

Fly One More Time (Alternately Titled--The Phoenix) by RavenLost2187

Summary: Steve couldn't see them before.

But then he woke up and there they were.

There's a small problem though.

One of his teammates doesn't have wings like he should.

And that's Tony Stark

Note: Some winged fics anyone? This has a bit of a Team as Family element and not to mention that glorious Civil War fix it theme! 

What it’s worth by masterlokisev159

Summary:  Tony's scent is off. Wanda realizes why.

Note: Here is a Hurt and Comfort fic for you with a dash ABO elements in it! 

Sunrise Over the End of the World by Sapphic_Futurist

Summary: When Dr. Strange arrives at an Accords Committee Meeting and warns of the coming of an alien megalomaniac set on destroying the world, the Rogues are pardoned and Tony finds himself exactly where he never wanted to be. Back at the Compound with Steve, who still can't take a hint and won't leave him alone.

--

In which Tony is broken and Steve finds redemption.

Note: A Bad case of Tony acting like nothing happened and doing his goddamn best to avoid Steve. It’ll work all out in the end. Well, it will get worst first before that though.. 

We stand together (or not at all) by Jana_C

Summary:  It’s so easy to hate this man, so painfully easy. He’s the embodiment of rich, white male privilege. He’s irritatingly arrogant, and he doesn’t always think before acting, and even when he does, he manages to twist his logic around and shape it into something that will always benefit him, and yet, here he is, building the guy who killed his parents an arm, without having been asked; working his way through diplomacy and politics, even though he hates it with every fiber of his being, just so he can correct the mistakes all of them made. She watches him go and sighs, small and tired, before texting a single line to Steve. Get ready to come home.

Note: Anyone up for some Tony Whump and Appreciation fanfic? 

You Don’t Only Get One Shot by janonny

Summary: In which Tony voluntarily carries a tracker around, and learns how to talk to Steve all over again in-between and during kidnapping attempts.

“Leave you alone for two months, and you have an operation all set up to track wayward Hydra cells and rescue innocent billionaires,” Tony said, his tone skating the line of annoyance and admiration.

Note: a dose of Stalkerish!Steve (but not in an entirely creepy way because he just wants to keep Tony safe dammit). 

You've Got A Sister Now by ZaraMelMercury

Summary: It's been a year since the events of the Avengers' Civil War. Tony Stark is trying to pick up the pieces of his life, while juggling his work, his remaining friendships, getting therapy sessions for Rhodey and dealing with government politics, as well as the Accords.

It is a bit rough, but he's got Pepper (always a steady rock by his side), Rhodey, Happy and the Kid- Peter Parker. Tony would never admit to it up front and center, but you could always catch a proud look on the man's face whenever the young Spiderling was mentioned!

Life seemed to be looking up...

Except for one, minor detail:

Steve Rogers.

The hope for one reconciliation, surprisingly, led to another!

A new bond that would form that Tony would ultimately always be thankful for.

"Oh, I wanna take it back!... " "No, no, no, you can't retract it!"

Who would've thought it?

Tony Stark has a sister looking out for him, after all.

Note: Here are some Tony and Nat friendship for you! This one isn’t exactly a solid fix it but one with a more of hopeful ending. 

The Bro Code by Sullen

Summary: In a world where the Winter Soldier is found years earlier and is named Tony’s godfather, Zemo plays a different R-rated video and Siberia goes a little differently.Or –Steve breaks the bro code.

Note: This is just too cute and wholesome not to include. 

WIP

Used to be Mine by Fangirlingmanaged

Tony can't even recognize himself nowadays.

Note: This one certainly deserves a place at the heavy angst category because that’s what it is. HEAVY ANGST AND HEARTBREAK.

[itsclydebitches]

Was planning on making this my own post, but I thought you would be more suited to discussing this sort of topic. Something I've noticed when it comes to the more prominent/important/strong female characters (Nora, Pyrrha, Penny, Robyn, Emerald, Sienna) is that RT often has the tendency of giving them masculine allusions (Thor, Achilles, Pinocchio, Robin Hood, Aladdin, Shere Khan) as if they are unable to stand on their own as characters unless they have that connection to a male character. 1/3

It is worth discussing! Yeah, I hesitate to call it a pattern just because, as you say, Team RWBY themselves are an exception to the rule  — and as the title characters of the story, they’re a pretty big exception. We also have good women allusions turned into good women characters (Glynda with The Good Witch, May with Maid Marian) and bad women allusions turned into good women characters (Winter with The Snow Queen — I don’t think she was ever meant to enter full antagonist territory, but that’s another post). So it’s not just a matter of saying, “RWBY models their strong women after male inspirations and turns all female inspirations into male characters.” It’s not that simple. But the fact that it’s not simple doesn’t mean there’s nothing there to unpack because I definitely understand the feeling you’re pointing to, anon. Team RWBY feels like it has the most thought put into it in terms of changing up these allusions, specifically when it comes to subversion: the little girl in a red hood who previously needed a hunter’s protection has become the hunter herself, Belle overcomes both her Gaston and the now evil Beast, Snow White extracts herself from her own abusive situation (with a little help from the Dwarves still), and Goldilocks is no longer lost and in need of basic necessities, but can rather punch her way out of any establishment  — like, say, a club. The execution of these themes aside (how Adam was handled, turning Jacques’ arrest into a joke, etc.), there’s a commonality here that works. Or at least, it works for me. Yet when we expand the allusions past our title team, things get... very messy. That’s when we start to hit on these concerns. 

I’d say the problem stems primarily from that lack of thought, not the act itself of turning women characters into men or vice versa. Meaning, as I’ve said in the past, RWBY’s use of allusions is terribly unreliable nowadays, and that’s not just in terms of plot expectations like, “Why did Penny have to become a flesh girl because Pinocchio, but Ironwood didn’t stay good because Tin Man?” It also includes these questions of why these changes were made and what sort of messages they send. As you lay out, why are so many of our heavy hitters  — the most talented huntress, the lightning-immune smasher, the Maiden android, etc.  — based on men? Why are many of the effeminate and “weaker” men  — Jaune the untrained, Ren the emotional councilor, Oscar the kid who wants to talk it all out  — based on women? Again, I don’t intend to sling any hard accusations, but rather to point out what’s likely a subtle, unconscious bias. To provide another example, I’ve seen talk recently about how RT (again, unconsciously) depicts the faunus, where all the good characters have culturally established “good” animal features and all the bad character have culturally established “bad” features. It’s cat ears, rabbit ears, sheep ears, monkey tails, dog tails, and beautifully changing skin color vs. scorpion tails, spiderwebs, bull horns, tiger ears, bat wings, and crocodile scales. Is it a perfect 1:1 divide? No, Ghira has panther claws and Fennec has fox ears, but there’s enough there for us to go, “RT tends to give the good guys cute features and/or features we associate with safe animals, whereas the bad guys tend to get ugly features and/or features we associate with dangerous animals.” I feel the same way here, that there’s a bit of a trend at play, with the caveat that there are more complications simply by virtue of these allusions being, well, complicated. But there’s enough there to make us stop and think, “What were RT’s intentions with this? If they just chose something based on the rule of cool, what might those inclinations tell us about gender norms in America?” Meaning, when someone goes, “Idk, we just thought it would be cool to change this up” there’s a lifetime of media consumption driving that choice. It’s not actually random, but based on whatever has been normalized  — unless you actively counteract that by thinking through what you want the change to do. 

Unconscious biases are always at work. When we analyze something like this it’s often not a matter of saying, “The author is [insert accusatory term here]” but rather just, “The author is falling into expectations, patterns, and normalized decisions based on the culture they’ve grown up in.” Which includes things like thinking, “Well, if this character is based on a male god, she must be crazy strong. If this character is based on a woman fighter, he’s probably more emotional.” Such biases may be driving a lot of decisions because, as said in the past, I really don’t think RT is putting much thought into these allusions, if any at this point. For me, Penny was proof of that  — the inability to see how following her allusion utterly destroyed her character growth  — but even if we don’t agree about Penny, what about Salem? Far from just using her name, this volume gave us a blatant reference to the events of Salem Trails in the 1690s. Namely, the burning of the witch. 

Except references like this can’t just look cool. This isn’t a video game Easter egg with no real connection to the story, it’s a cinematography/plot choice that carries meaning. So what is that meaning? Well, the thing about the women on trail at Salem is that they were innocent. This is what that reference says: “Hey, remember that real life event where women who weren’t witches were horrifically killed because others thought they were evil? None were actually burned, but culturally we tend to think they were. So that’s the image in our collective mind: innocent women on fire.” Except... Salem is actually a witch. Salem is evil. Salem is guilty. Or at least, the questions surrounding the extent of her guilt  — How much responsibility does she hold in comparison to the Gods? How much agency does she still have after the grimm pool?  — has not been acknowledged by the text. Yang just yelled at Salem for killing her mom and Oscar is about to blow her up. This is not a “Question Salem’s humanity” scene, it’s a “Kill the witch” scene... yet it uses an allusion that is contrary to what the moment is trying to achieve. So what are we supposed to take away from this? Do we adhere to the subtext and believe that Salem is innocent somehow, ignoring what the actual text says, or do we uphold the text and in doing so undermine the reliability of every other allusion in the show? If we can’t trust Salem’s, why would we trust, say, Penny’s? 

RWBY’s allusions are all over the place and yes, I think that lack of consideration extends to who they randomly decided to genderbend. There’s no acknowledgment of  — let alone engagement with  — how many of these characters and historical figures were trying to pass themselves off as another gender, nor does RWBY acknowledge how the need to do so feeds into our current and historic assumptions about gender as a whole. Why does the man dress as a woman? To keep himself safe and seen as a non-threat. Why does the woman dress as a man? To gain access to places previously barred from her and to gain the respect she otherwise wouldn’t be afforded. And, of course, in 2021 there’s the expectation that media will include trans characters, GNC characters, non-binary characters, cis characters uninterested in practicing traditional femininity/masculinity, etc. None of which RWBY tackles outside of May, a woman who references a systematic transphobia we otherwise never see in the show. May, as a minor character, is great and I am in all honesty thrilled that she exists in the RWBY canon. However, the rest of the show is built on an anime conception of gender  — combat skirts and bare midriffs in the snow  — while nevertheless engaging with the very complicated question of how you re-imagine canonically/historically gendered people. As a “girl power” show, RWBY has opened itself up to questions like, “Okay, it’s great that you made these four fairy tale girls kickass, but can we talk about making Joan of Arc into a bumbling guy whose presence as a blonde, blue-eyed, sword-wielding man taking up lots of important screen time has generated accusations about this being a male-centered show?” It’s not a “RWBY is horrible for doing this!” issue, but a “RWBY is deliberately playing with gender and marketing itself as a progressive show, so... let’s figure out what these individual choices are actually implying and whether or not we consider that progressive.” 

[lettrespromises]

#LettresPromises informs you : You have one notification. ──➤ 𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐕𝐄 𝐆𝐎𝐓 𝐌𝐀𝐈𝐋!

─➤ Ushijima Wakatoshi sent you a letter, would you like to read it? #CC of the letter directed to : @babythotshq​.

──➤ #𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 : angst, song letter. ─➤ #𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐝 : “When I Was Your Man” by Bruno Mars. ➤ #𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : slight injury.

❝𝐒𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐟𝐞𝐞����𝐬 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐛𝐢𝐭 𝐛𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐧𝐨𝐰, 𝐎𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐨 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐞.❞

His orbs never left once the wilted color of the ceiling, nor did he dare to blink, surely because his subconscious had already made him prisoner jailed in his own thoughts. What did he fear by blinking? Did he fear to wake up in trance from this nightmare? Did he fear being left breathless by the umpteenth realization that you were, indeed, not laying next to him? Ushijima Wakatoshi was laying on his bed. His orbs never left once the wilted color of the ceiling. His arms were spread open (but oddly respected the limit of where your body would usually occupy), like a martyr begging for forgiveness and mercy to the higher beings. But his salute never came, his prayers fell in the deaf ears of vacuity. Ushijima Wakatoshi was laying on his bed. And found himself unable to move. And upon lacing his shoe laces to head out and commit to his morning run, despite being three hours late, he threw a last glance at your shared bedroom, which had become singular with time. He felt his own legs attract him to the edge of the bed, like an old habit poisoning his rational thinking and arbitrary, but was rendered weak and let himself be invaded by the toxins secreted by his own body. It was only when his shinbones hit the wooden surface of the bed that he snapped out of his reverie, and realized that the bed was empty. And realized that there was no forehead left to be kissed this morning, again.  He stepped back from the bed, his steps were cautious and testified of the fear slowly embedding his actions, now the toxins were spreading onto his bones and muscles, it was no longer a burden on his mind, it had metamorphosed into a metaphorical chain wrapped around his muscles which forbid him from enjoying the liberty of his movements. A shaken step caused his to stumble backwards, knocking the radio throning on the shelf behind him. And when Ushijima’s eardrums were expecting a loud bang, to which he did not even shut his lids in anticipation, he was met with a song. Your song. The shock of the radio against the floor had caused the sudden musical eruption of a song which often throned amongst Ushijima’s happiest memories. Now, upon hearing it, he could barely discern what the words meant. It all sounded like a blur, or rather, as if the musical keys had changed. He even wonder if the singer hadn’t released a new version of the song with new lyrics. Ushijima Wakatoshi didn’t go on his usual morning run on this day, he gave in to the assault of emotions and the whimpers of nostalgia hidden between two words sung by the singer, the pain found comfort in the melody of the song.  ❝𝐌𝐦, 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠, 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐝𝐮𝐦𝐛 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐳𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐈 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝.❞ Each volleyball season ended with a gala organized by the Volleyball Club Association, it was the perfect occasion to give back to charities and at the same time celebrate the victories of this season. Ushijima had the habit of growing oddly quiet whenever this season would arrive, the nerves of knowing whether or not he had been voted as the best performing winged spiker were rendering unable of forming any word. 

And like every year, you were accompanying him. 

You found yourself to be cherished under the flashes of the photographers, exposing in front of the public eye a relationship which was burning with the fire of a Phoenix. Only, to the private eye, you had doubt regarding the renaissance of your idyl. Your love was burning, indeed, burning amongst the unforgiving inferno of a romance which had turnt into a mere illusion. 

Being at a public event, it was common for Wakatoshi to answer the journalists’ question, and being someone quite reserved himself, the preying eyes of the interviewers often gravitated about his private life— who is he dating? Is he single? Does he have someone on his mind? 

A journalist gathered enough courage to approach him, and you thought it was your time to affirm yourself— as the galas went by, you and Wakatoshi grew and grew closer, and this year was your first time as his official romantic date. A grin had already bloomed amongst your facial features in anticipations to his answers regarding his private life. 

“Ushijima-san, thank you for allowing us to ask you several questions. Now, everyone knows you as this relentless warrior on the court, but do you also happen to have the same success on the court as in your private life?” The journalist asked, a gleam of hope shone in the irises of her eyes.

Ushijima hesitated for a short instant which seemed like an eternity, the metaphorical gears in his head were working with difficulty, and the words connected to one another without ever forming a complete sentence, or at least, one which reflected his thoughts. “No, there is no one in my life except volleyball. And I believe it will always remain this way.” He announced to the journalist in response, despite your obvious presence next to him. 

And as the words were drowning in your eardrums, you felt yourself gradually disappear under the haunting sensation of being forgotten. His hold on your hand also seemed to be gradually becoming numb, as if you had truly obtained all the characteristics of a ghost after his reply. After he stated that you meant nothing to him, and will never mean anything.

“Y/N, I’m pleased to see you are happy to be here, should we continue, my love?” His question provoked the rise of a cacophony of miserable whimpers inside your head, not only did Ushijima failed to see you for who you were, but he also failed to perceive your most vivid emotions. ❝𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐠𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞.❞ You were sitting on the edge of the bed, the back of your calves rocking softly against the wooden surface, your skin had already adopted a spectrum of reddish and purplish tones from all the bruises caused by this constant rocking of your legs against the edge of the bed, you were bruised from waiting for him, you were bruised from loving him. 

“Y/N? I ignored you were waiting for me, you should have gone to sleep instead.” Did this tone remind you of your lover’s? Or did it remind you of yet another lecture given by a parental figure?  “I tried, trust me I tried, Wakatoshi. But I can’t sleep without you anymore... You’re, you’re always abroad and I can never catch you. It’s like I’m dating someone who only exists through phone calls and texts... It’s like all this time I’ve been dating a ghost.” Your lower lip began to tremble under the heavy weight of the words pouring from your mouth, “I don’t even know if I want you anymore or not. I can’t tell if your presence is hurting me or not, I don’t know who you are anymore to me.” The last words died on your tongue in a shameful whisper, your orbs solely focused on the ground. 

Wakatoshi’s hand reached for your shoulder, like a metaphorical saving hand trying to save your from drowning in your most horrible nightmare but as your fingertips were about to touch his and be saved from the misery hovering above you like a sword of Damocles, a sudden sob ripped apart this moment of solace and you felt all alone again, shut away from the world, an exiled soul in a loveless abyss.

Ushijima knew you couldn’t find deliverance in his presence anymore, he knew that in your eyes, he had become a poison you needed to find an antidote for. Each second spent with him felt like pure agony, and he felt eaten alive by his own guilty for having fallen asleep to the sounds of your rocking sobs like the most miserable lullaby. 

❝𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲'𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝐞'𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐚𝐧.❞

The absence, the ignorance.

Two cruel elements which, once associated to one another, signed the end of your relationship with Ushijima Wakatoshi. You had left him a letter with your most beautiful calligraphy, soon ruined by the uneven spheres caused by your tears. You even left him a bouquet of flowers, an attention he used to pour a lot of importance in at the beginning of your relationship when it was still blooming. Now your relationship was wilted, colorless, and already falling apart. And just like that, a petal had fallen on the wooden surface of your kitchen counter. His kitchen counter.

Ushijima tried to make up for your absence by concentrating the burning hole in his chest left by your absence by unleashing his frustration in his spikes. At first, he was applauded by his coach, and his performances were worthy of his peers’ praises.

But the same spikes infused with frustration were now infused with a rare kind of genuine hatred when you sent him a text saying you had found someone else, someone who had more time too, but the last straw was that you had apologized.

Said rare kind of genuine hatred wasn’t directed to the person you were dating, even less you. It was directed to himself, Wakatoshi Ushijima, and how in the deafening silence he managed to give birth to the loudest emotions.

And the praises turnt into worry.

Like your compliments turnt into whimpers.

It was the same circular scheme.

During training, as the palm of his calloused hand slapped the leather surface of the ball, picturing his own face on the martyr of a ball, Ushijima cried out in pain.

He ignored if the origin of the pain emanated from the way he had just dislocated his left wrist, or was it coming from the final rupture of his last heartstring as he had witnessed himself coming undone under the weight of his emotions, his memories, his regrets.

And the praises from his coaches regarding his spikes were now made vocal for another player. And the praises, your praises, regarding himself were now made vocal for someone else whose name wasn’t Ushijima Wakatoshi.

Someone who had the luxury of time.

Someone who had the privilege of loving and being able to be loved.

Someone who wasn’t him.

❝𝐃𝐨 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐈 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐦𝐚𝐧.❞

[jiikyu]

Taste of Marigolds In Bloom

Herb of the Sun — Or Marigold was often used during the Middle Ages as a love charm. Carrying one of these brightly colored flowers was thought to bring love.

Though be warned for they are also poisonous.

Chapter II. Fate has lead you down a path of hardships, you should be grateful to have found someone so faithful to stay by your side.

∘◦ ✿ ◦∘

All characters are 18+

Yandere!Mirio x Fem!Reader(AΩβ)

Y/N = Your Name

F/N = Your Full Name

E/C = Eye Color

H/C = Hair Color

Warnings: Yandere / Unhealthy Behavior / Delusions

First Chapter Here❦ Next Chapter Here❦

∘◦ ✿ ◦∘

Turning the last page ends as another disappointment.

The blank sheet staring back at Mirio leaves a seed of uneasiness to sow and grow. He ignores it. Instead blue eyes fall to the soft glow of the clock on the nightstand of his bedroom. The digital numbers a leering reminder that he should be asleep.

2:34 AM

The Alpha nonchalantly flips the book to a close, letting the pages flutter together softly before falling shut. Pushing the U.A. Yearbook aside a tired sigh leaves him as he leans across the surface of the desk, scarred forearms resting against the cool polished wood. Mirio had been unsuccessful at finding you amongst the pictures of the past.

And he had been so eager too.

The way back to the hero dorms the blond all but shouts a rapid ‘Hello’ followed in-session by a ‘See you later!’ to a rather startled Tamaki. Once home, Mirio rummages through the back of his closet for the albums and — Nothing. It just really put a damper on his mood.

He just wanted to see your smile.

Only a handful of hours have passed since your meeting and, well... He hadn’t quite been the same since. The light flutter of his heart had yet to cease.

Even as he told Aizawa about the incident with Eri it just wouldn’t stop beating.

Mirio kind of hopes it never does.

∘◦ ✿ ◦∘

A week.

A full week drags by without Mirio catching so much as a glimpse of you. But it’s okay, it would take a lot more then a measly few days to shake his faith.

And when it does finally happen, oh boy, is he stopped dead in his tracks. Deep pools of blue glue to you the moment you fall into his peripheral vision.

To Mirio — When the butterfly kisses return they only validate the swirl of thoughts and emotions that have refused to leave him since your meeting. Swarming his chest just as they had when he first saw you. Protecting Eri. Wings knocking against his ribs in a sickly sweet kind of way.

Thoughts that maybe, just maybe, the two of you had been meant to cross paths.

He spots you seated in a corner of the open U.A. library. Seated by a window the sun bathes your H/C locks in a warm glow, deep into a textbook with a scribble filled notebook by your side. So preoccupied you don’t even notice his staring. It’s all becoming very clear to him how important your studies — How important heroism is to you.

To someone of the untrained eye it probably wouldn’t have been obvious, but he takes notice. Had seen the way you, a small quirkless Omega, protected Eri... Something about it all had stolen his breath away.

But it hadn’t ended at that.

A single tear.

Never before has Mirio been overtaken with the desire to sweep someone off their feet. Never before has he been consumed by the need to run his thumb over someones cheek, catching any tears that dare to spill further. Instead, the Alpha did the only other thing he could’ve, used his scent to calm an Omega. And you had responded.

All of this has been on loop in his head for the past week and here you were sitting alone in the study, in the flesh.

There’s no time to waste, he’s wasted so much already.

“Y/N!”

When your eyes leave the block of text you had been oh so concentrated on you’re met with warm oceanic irises.

“Mirio-?”

You barely have time to register the blur of a waving hand before you realize the blond has already taken the unoccupied seat to your left. He’s fast!

You probably look dumbfounded, E/C eyes wide but you’re quick to collect yourself. But actually, you’re happy to see the enthusiastic blond again.

“I was wondering if I would get see you again, this school is enormous.” His voice is just as lively as you remember and that signature aroma of ocean with the faintest hint of citrus reaches you again.

It’s oddly welcoming.

“Yeah it’s a maze here, I’m still getting used to it myself.” You’re ashamed to admit that you’ve gotten lost more than once already.

“You know, Eri told me how nice you had been to her. Just the other day she asked me if I had seen you at school.” You notice a change in his expression, the smile never leaves him, it’s so slight you’re not even sure it happened at all. “She’s awfully shy and for good reason, the poor girl has been through more than most. So she struggles to open up with people but, I guess she really took a liking to you and I just want to emphasize how important that is.”

And how much that means to me.

The image of timid Eri asking about you is enough to melt your heart and the fact that you were able to leave an impression sends you over the moon. And it shows when a shaky warm smile overtakes you. “Thank you for telling me. Please tell her I said hi, that she’s very brave and that — I miss her too.”

Your smile has Mirios heart doing flips and he has to remind himself to take a breath. If his head wasn’t screwed on he’d probably lose it!

“Don’t worry, you can trust me to pass on the message.” The chuckle that escapes the Alpha rumbles in his chest, large hand running through his sunshine blond locks when he says. “Hey who knows, maybe one day you’ll see her again and you can tell her yourself.”

“Yeah maybe.”

“Wait — Come to think of it, what grade are you in Y/N?”

You pause from your thoughts. “Senior, why?”

“Senior? I’m just surprised is all, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you on campus before.” Or the acceptable way of saying: You’re not in any of his yearbooks.

“Oh, that’s because I transferred from Tagara this year.”

Ah. Of course! It clicks and he wants to scold himself at his own foolishness.

“If you don’t mind me asking, why the sudden transfer? You know, since this is your last year.” Mirios voice is one of genuine curiosity.

...

You fidget with the pencil at your fingertips, unsure how to answer. The conversations between the two of you so far have only been positive experiences. You might even go as far to say that his words have helped uproot some of your insecurities, though the roots are dug deep and no one single conversation could ever undue the years of self doubt tying you down.

But this man, who radiates like a beacon of hope, is someone you could see yourself trusting — And before you know it the words you were unable to find escape on their own accord.

“To be honest U.A. has always been my dream school. I knew I never stood a chance without a quirk... But every year I would submit a request for a transfer and every year it would be declined.” You’re not sure what it is that compels you to open up with someone you would basically consider a stranger. Maybe it’s the dusty library air getting to you or maybe it’s the way Mirio looks at you with complete and utter focus.

You’re not sure.

“Then they opened up a business course that was attainable for people like me.” You remember opening up the letter and the tears of happiness that blurred your vision. Even now, sitting in the U.A. Library it’s still so unreal.

“It’s cheesy but... I like to think it was fate that sent me that Acceptance Letter.” One last shot at a dream.

Fate.

Mirio’s starting to believe it was fate as well.

“I think so too.”

His words break you yet again.

This time you’re not surprised to see that sincere smile, when you’re so used to facing judgment.

Mirio has yet to falter. Not once.

And your pulse drums loudly against your ears for reasons other than fear.

∘◦ ✿ ◦∘

One day you just sort of realize it.

That with Mirio around life feels a lot more fast-paced. It’s a speed you haven’t quite adjusted to yet, but if you’re being honest with yourself it’s a change that is growing on you. Growing on you fast as weeds.

Maybe that was just a side effect of being around someone so earnest and gentle.

After the first time you two ran into each other you had exchanged numbers and slowly but surely Mirio was becoming a constant in your life.

You had learned a lot about him.

One very key thing being that he had his quirk stolen.

[cupcakemolotov]

Feel Like Home

Had a really strange dream last night and @goldcaught talked me into giving it some shape and writing this out.  Just a quick little thing, will expand on it if I have time/the muse for it. Not really a huge number of warnings for this one. Does reference past potential sex but no details. Just magical shenanigans and Bonnie and Caroline being besties.

Caroline bit her lip, studying Bonnie’ face. Her best friend rarely wore such a worried expression anymore, but in this case she couldn’t blame her. In less than forty-eight hours, she’d dropped whatever her witchy business had been, gotten a cat sitter, and hauled butt to New York City. 

And all because Caroline had called her with an SOS. 

Fingers curling into her palms, she glanced around the high rise apartment they were currently camped out in. The space was gorgeous, all warm wood and wide open windows with lush furniture that invited you to linger. The floor was saved from being chilly thanks to a collection of gorgeous rugs, the art work on the walls tasteful and heart-breakingly gorgeous. The bathroom had been copy/pasted directly from her dreams and the tub was gorgeous and everything she wanted in life. 

It was an apartment that she coveted, and one that was millions and millions of dollars outside of her price range. Just the view of New York City alone was a multi-million dollar addition. But her favorite fall jacket had been hanging in the closet, she’d found her awesome, weekend date to-go bag on the side of the bed. It had included a change of clothes and kick ass underwear. She felt safe here, welcome, and had absolutely no memory of how she’d gotten here or whose cologne lingered on the sheets.

“Okay,” Bonnie said finally, rubbing the wrinkle line between her eyebrows tiredly. “I’m really, really glad you called.”

Caroline eyed her doubtfully. “You don’t look happy.”

Bonnie waved her hand. “That’s not about you. Not entirely, at least.”

“Well, I’m not sure who else I’m going to call when I wake up in the middle of supernatural shenanigans, but I’m glad I called you too.” Taking a deep breath, Caroline looked at her beseechingly and tried not to panic. “How did I get here? I couldn’t find any texts explaining and we both know I'm a serial texter. How did I not send you fifty messages about my underwear choices for my date? My shoes? My dress? There isn’t a single hair check selfie on my phone, Bon. That’s impossible. I don’t just let someone talk me into visiting New York without at least a pro/con list two pages long.”

“Oh, I am aware,” Bonnie muttered. Running a hand down her face, she grimaced. “You can look at my phone for evidence later. But, Caroline. You’ve lived in New York for six months. You have a super cute closet for an apartment. I have pictures of that to prove it.”

“I…” her words died at the sincerity on Bonnie’s face. Blowing out a breath, because Bonnie Bennett would never lie about something like this, she cast her thoughts back and slowly nodded, relief heady. “Okay. Yeah. This spring. I remember packing my things in my rental and mom looking both relieved and tired.”

“Yeah, she’s wanted you to spread your wings for a few years. After the bout with cancer, you were being stubborn.” A lifted brow. “It was such a surprise. You. Being stubborn.”

Caroline gave her a disapproving look. “Do you have to say that like it's a bad thing?”

A small smile touched the edge of Bonnie’s mouth. “I guess it depends on what you are being stubborn about. Do you remember that big fancy PR party you were being forced to go to about six week ago?”

“No,” the word was said with great reluctance. “I feel like I should though.”

“Oh, you definitely should.” Bonnie drawled. “I didn’t attend and I know a great deal more about it than I would like. Clothes, shoes, departmental involvement and the dick from accounting who spends way too much time looking at your ass. Your boss, who insisted you go because she keeps thinking if she plays nice you’ll one day introduce her to your ex-werewolf boyfriend.”

Caroline did not want to talk about Tyler. “Your point, Bon?”

“You don’t remember Klaus.”

The name tugged something in her chest, a sense of awareness she couldn’t name, and Caroline frowned in concentration. “Who is Klaus?”

“The Black Dragon of New York.” At Caroline’s blank expression Bonnie sighed heavily. “Well, that confirms some of it at least.”

“Bonnie…”

“You moved to New York six months ago with a job offer for a Public Relations firm that specializes in supernatural reputations.” Her lips twisted in something like an amused grimace. “Your… history with witches and werewolves left you overqualified for the entry level position, as did your original internship in Chicago.”

Caroline pursed her lips. “By overqualified, that better be a comment on my personal awesomeness and not that they hired me because I dated a werewolf. That would have annoyed me. Why didn’t I remember that? I should have remembered that.”

“Because you don’t remember Klaus.”

Which made absolutely no sense to Caroline.

“Do I need to open wine? There was quite a collection that I am going to have no qualms drinking if that would absolutely help me understand the words you are saying.” Caroline threw her arms open wide. “I’m sure whoever lives here can afford it.”

“Spirits, if I thought it would help, I’d have brought tequila.” Bonnie looked heavenward and slouched backwards, something like gallows humor darkening her face. “Klaus Mikaelson is a dragon. A black dragon, specifically. He has been on top of the food chain for centuries, Caroline. He picked New York as his seat of power this century because he was bored in Europe. When he got here, he ate half the witch council, flattened three werewolf tribes, and casually made alliances with the necromages as if they were cute but annoying pets. He owns New York. He rules North America with a very, very short temper. Hell, I think he built this tower to his exact specifications because he now lives exactly one foot higher than every other building in New York. You would not believe how that man likes to lord over people.”

Caroline tried to recall the differences in dragon color and why that might be important and came up blank. “You’d think I’d know who he was with my job description,” she said faintly. “That seems like the kind of detail I would pick up on. And did you say this tower?”

Was there a floor above her? She hadn’t really spent a lot of time looking out the windows. She should have located the elevator and checked to see if it listed the number of floors. Figure out which one she was on. Something to do later then. 

“This tower. But more importantly, you’d probably have remembered that you tossed your drink in his face six weeks ago at said PR Party.” Bonnie’s expression grew even more pained. “I’m told the flowers he sent you after that were very nice.”

Caroline tried to suck in air. “I did what now?”

Bonnie nodded, motioning with her hand towards the bedroom. “Two days ago, you went on what I’m pretty sure was your third date. And you apparently stayed over.”

Eyes widening comically, Caroline glanced around the apartment again, trying to comprehend was she was seeing with new eyes. “Bonnie Bennett, I would remember fucking a dragon.”

Bonnie snorted, slapping a hand over her mouth as she visibly struggled not to laugh. Her shoulders shook, breath escaping in faint, choking noises. 

“This is not funny,” Caroline rasped, launching to her feet. Meeting her best friends watering eyes, she waved her hands dramatically around them. “You are telling me that I have been sleeping in Klaus Mikaelson’s bed for at least two days? And no one has been here to chuck me out? He hasn’t asked me to leave? Did he go on vacation? If he bailed on me like that and didn’t even so much as leave a note, I don’t care how hot he is, that was probably our last date.” Her eyes narrowed. “I even packed my cutest underwear. He did not deserve them.”

“You can keep the underwear thing to yourself,” Bonnie said hastily, voice still trembling with laughter. She cleared her throat, and tried again. “And to answer your question, no one knows where he is. That’s the problem. Forty-eight hours ago, the witch council announced they had successfully overthrown his hold on the city. Two hours later, you called me and said you couldn’t remember where you were or how you got here, but you had a really strong feeling that you shouldn’t leave.”

Caroline sat back down slowly. “What does that mean?”

Bonnie shook her head. “I don’t know. But what I do know isn’t… great.”

Caroline tried to smile. “That’s not really comforting.”

Bonnie ignored her. 

“Klaus brought you back here, to his… for lack of better word, lair. You probably had sex.” Bonnie’s nose wrinkled, but she kept going. “Dragons are possessive at best, Caroline. I don’t know what is going on between the two of you, but it took him over a month to sweet talk you into a date and yet you are keyed heavily enough into his wards that you were able to invite me, a witch, into his home without either of us getting fried.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh. You also feel safe enough here that you didn’t bolt home in a walk-of-shame after waking up alone and suffering from amnesia. ” Her eyes were solemn, not a hint of tease on her face. “Whatever spell was used, it has wiped Klaus from your memory and life so thoroughly you don’t have so much as a text or picture linking back to him. So either you were caught up in the crossfire of the spell that took him out or the entirety of New York has also forgotten him. And none of those options are good ones.”

Caroline swallowed past her suddenly very dry mouth. “What does that mean?”

“I have no idea,” Bonnie said with a sigh. “But his magic is here, you're here. Which means he is alive and we are probably going to have to find him. And we will have to be careful, because if anyone from the council realizes that you’re probably the key to finding him, they’ll try to kill us. I’m already not super popular with some of the older factions, I cannot see this helping matters.”

“What, wait?” Caroline said up straight. “Why do we have to find him? Aren’t there other people who can do that? Didn’t you just say he rules this city? Surely he has like, minions or something that can do the heavy lifting?”

“If only.” Bonnie nodded towards her wrist. “But why us? Because you’re wearing his magic, Care. And while I definitely do not approve of dating a dragon, no matter what I think about it, there is no way his magic would cling to you if you hadn’t agreed to it. Probably. Which means when you aren’t dealing with a weird jedi mind wipe, you care about him. For some reason. And the Caroline I know doesn’t leave people behind.”

Caroline glanced down at her wrist and swallowed hard. Now that Bonnie had pointed it out, she could see the gold shimmer of a mark she couldn’t decipher beneath the familiar blue swallow on her right wrist. That mark felt… right. Familiar, as if she should have known it was there the entire time. Blowing out a breath, she glanced back at Bonnie’s unhappy face and grimaced. 

“I bet we can find tequila if we look hard enough.”

[bunnyywritings]

a birthday wish

tenya iida x gn!reader

[a/n: so I got home later than I thought I would and it was a bit of a rough day but here’s a little something for class rep on his birthday, hehe I’m a complete mess when it comes to this boy right here🥺...like I don’t understand how he’s not everyone’s favorite but I guess not everyone has taste ✨✨ anyways, I gave reader wings as their quirk, enjoy! -yours truly, bunnyy -`ღ´- ]

Work studies were going great so far. You were doing yours under Keigo Takami aka Hawks. He helped you with training that focused on strengthening your wings and using them in combat.

You flinched as the earpiece crackled to life, “That’s enough for now (y/n), let’s go on patrol.” You made your way down to where he was standing on the rooftop, a groan leaving your lips once your wings ceased their flapping. This caused Hawks to chuckle, “Tired?”

“No.” You scoffed at his teasing. “Not at all.” That was a big fat lie, your wings were sore. Every time you took a step, it jostled them painfully. However, you pushed the pain to the back of your mind and went on the patrol as scheduled.

Back at the dorms, everyone was gathered in the common room, trying to relax after a day full of classes and pop quizzes. Denki was flipping through the channels when a familiar face made him stop and turn up the volume.

“Woah! Guys check it out! It’s (y/n)!” The call of your name caught Iida’s attention, he grabbed his mug and made his way towards the couches. A smile on his face as he saw you on the tv, your dazzling grin on display for everyone to see as you were on patrol. He felt his heart beat a little faster at the sight of you. He was a bit somber at the fact that you wouldn’t be there for his birthday.

He’d want nothing more than to be able to cuddle you to his hearts content and sleep with you in his arms, sure it was against to rules but when it came to you, there’s nothing he wouldn’t do for you. Plus, the thought of waking up to you in his arms on his birthday was probably one of the best gifts he could receive. Especially after not seeing you for a whole week. He fished his phone from his pocket and took a quick picture of your guys’ classmates gushing over you.

To: my darling angel ♡

‘You look absolutely dazzling on the big screen darling and it seems that everyone thinks so too.’

You ignored the buzz in your pocket, you knew it was a text but taking your phone out on a patrol wouldn’t really be the smartest idea, so you continued on. Stopping for photos and autographs before you were back in the agency office and having lunch.

“So? Did you consider my offer?” Hawks asked as he popped a nugget in his mouth.

“Well I did, and after speaking about it with a-uh a friend...” Keigo definitely caught onto the blush that made its way to your cheeks. “and once I graduate, I’d love to sign with your agency.” A triumphant grin split his lips.

“That’s great!” His grin turned into a mischievous smirk. “And who’s this friend of yours?” He wiggled his eyebrows as your cheeks turned a bright red.

“He uhm, his name is T-Tenya Iida.” You avoided his gaze.

“Tenya? Wait- he’s Ingenium’s brother?” You nodded sheepishly. “Is he your boyfriend?~”

A laugh rumbled in his chest as he saw your wings ruffle and puff up. “I’ll take that as a yes.” Then you remembered that he had texted you a while ago so you grabbed your phone and unlocked it, heart fluttering so loud you could hear it in your ears.

“Uh hey lovebird...” his call broke you out of your trance, that’s when you realized that the fluttering you heard wasn’t your heart seeing as you were a few feet above your chair. Embarassed, you fluttered back down until your butt was back in the chair.

“S-Sorry...”

You finished your lunch and helped with some paperwork since it was a rather uneventful day. You were exhausted but being in the city for an entire week was an amazing experience.

“Hey uh how would you like to get home early?” His offer made your eyes widen.

“Wait...really?”

He shrugged, “Yeah, of course. You can just finish your work study next week. I’ll email Aizawa the paperwork in the morning. You should get back to that boyfriend of yours. It’s his birthday today.” You were even more shocked, how did he-?

“Am I right? You said something about some boy’s birthday earlier this week.”

“I-well yeah, you’re right.”

So you showered in the locker room as he readied the paper work and he accompanied you to the station.

“Well, little one...it’s time to go back to your dorm life.” He chuckled sadly, ruffling your hair.

You dropped your duffle bag on the ground and wrapped your arms around the blonde “Thank you Takami...I really appreciate it.” He smiled and wrapped his arms around your shoulders.

“Don’t get all sappy on me kid and plus...two years goes by like nothing.” He gave you a little squeeze before pulling away. “You’ll probably be way more powerful than me by then anyways.”

After a tearful goodbye at the train terminal, you boarded on the 3 hour ride back to Musutafu.

You leaned back in your seat and tried to catch a small nap. You were shaken awake by another passenger, she gently called out to you until your eyes were open and she kindly let you know that you were at your stop.

Slightly embarrassed, you thanked her profusely before climbing out and making your way out of the car. You pulled out your phone and called a few of your classmates to try and keep your arrival a surprise. Midoriya and Shoto had convinced Iida to go on a run with them. And Sato had gotten started on baking a cake. They had known it was Iida’s birthday but he had made it very clear that he didn’t want anything too wild but that wasn’t gonna fly with you.

Once you arrived, everyone greeted you excitedly but kept the questions down as they helped you set up and whatnot.

When the boys had sent you a text that they were a few minutes away, you went and hid.

“You guys? What is this? I thought I said not to waste time on a party.” Iida gently reprimanded his classmates.

“Well maybe this will change your mind...” Mina giggled and that was your cue. You stepped out from around the corner.

“Surprise!!” You held your arms out and there was a grin on your lips.

Everyone watched with warm hearts as Iida’s eyes widened and slightly glossed over before he sped over to you and enveloped you in his arms, lifting you up and spinning you around before he let you back down onto the ground and held your jaw in his hands and brought you into a deep yet sweet kiss. The action surprised you but you melted into it and moved your lips against his.

“Eww! Get a room!” Denki jokingly groaned.

“Trust me, we will.” Iida’s deep voice rumbled quietly in you ear.

Your cleared your throat and pulled away, face flushed. “O-okay, well uh now that I’m here let’s eat some cake!” Sato brought out a beautifully made cake and placed some candles on it. You watched with a smile as Iida enjoyed the singing from his classmates and the cheers as he was blowing out the candles. As much as he said he didn’t want a party, he sure was enjoying himself.

He opened a few presents, thanking everyone but also scolding(?) them for spending money on impractical things but once the night died down, he thanked everyone once more but insisted that they all get to sleep at a reasonable hour. While he took a shower, you took the time to ready his presents. They weren’t anything too special but you had hoped that they were enough. Sighing, your tried to fight off sleep but it felt like your eyelids weighed tons, and sleep was tugging at your subconscious but you stayed awake because you wanted to have some much needed cuddles with the birthday boy. Not really caring about whether you’d get caught or not.

As Iida made his way into his room, he was filled with a fuzzy warmth that was only caused by you. The way you sleepily watched him move about the room, the way you looked in his t-shirt.

“Now, it’s finally time for your gifts.” You grinned, holding out a box for him.

Playfully rolling his eyes, he took the box from your hands and sat beside you on the bed. With tentative fingers, he carefully unwrapped the box and pulled open the lid. He froze. It was a pair of shoes that he had been wanting for training but they were seemingly sold out everywhere, even with the money that he had, he couldn’t get them.

“How did you-?” He looked at you with wide eyes, the butterflies he got from your lazy grin made him want to pin you down and smother you in kisses.

“Don’t worry about it.” You coyly shrugged and before he could ask once more, you held a little gift bag out to him. Your triumphant expression turning sheepish. “This isn’t anything special really b-but I just thought you’d like to have it.”

He took it and pulled out the colorful tissue paper, and there was a long, rectangular box in it. Pulling it out, he opened the box. Inside was a shiny silver chain necklace with a white gold feather hanging from it, his and your initials ingraved on it.

The silence was killing you.

“I-It’s okay if you don’t like it! I-well I just thought that-“

He could tell it was expensive, he had seen expensive jewelry before and this definitely could easily be something that his mother or father would have in their drawer.

“I love it...it��s gorgeous.” The feather reminded him of your wings. “But, please don’t tell me that you wasted your money on me like this?” He was conflicted because he was grateful but he didn’t like the idea of you spending a pretty penny on him.

“Okay! Then I won’t, it could never be a waste when it comes to you because I...I love you Tenya. So much.” When he didn’t respond, you sighed and stood up and stood in between his thigh and cupped his cheeks in your hands. “Please don’t worry about it, this is something that I wanted to get you. You spoil me all the time and I wanted to spoil you, even if it was just for a bit. You deserve the work Tenya.” He looked up into your eyes as you ran your a hand through his damp hair. “You’ve had so much on your shoulders. Taking Ingenium’s name for yourself, trying to live up to Tensei’s name, being class rep...you don’t give yourself enough credit. You deserve being spoiled, you deserve being loved...” you leaned down and pressed your forehead against his. “You deserve to feel special. You are so powerful sweetheart, I’m proud of you. That may not mean much but-“ you were cut off when he pressed his lips to yours. His hands gripping your hips as you smiled into the kiss.

“I love you too darling, very much.” You nuzzled your nose against his.

“Now let’s get to bed! I’m exhausted.” He chuckled, laying in bed and pulling you to lay on his chest to not apply uncomfortable pressure to your wings. He wound his arms tightly around you as you snuggled into his warmth.

“Happy birthday tenya...” you lazily placed a soft kiss on his lips.

“A very happy one indeed, I’ve got the best gift right here in my arms.” His grin was slightly lopsided as he blindly pressed kisses all over your face. “Now go to sleep, you’ve had a long week.” He muttered as he closed his eyes and snuggling closer to you. His warmth made your eyes finally shut, a small sigh leaving your lips as he ran a hand through your hair and lightly ran his fingers across your scalp. You finally gave into the pull of deep sleep.

His wish was granted. You were in his arms and that’s all that could matter to him.

[sebbytrash]

Through His Eyes - Part Seventeen

Summary - Bucky arrives at the compound to start afresh but you and him have a somewhat colorful past, colorful being that you met him once before as The Winter Soldier and it did not go well. New beginnings, yeah? If you can learn to forgive.

Pairing - Eventual Bucky x Reader

Warnings -   Nightmares, angst, self loathing, sad stuff my guys.

A/N - I’m sorry. Trust me. 

Through His Eyes Masterlist

“No, please. No.” Bucky’s agonised moans wake you, sharply, his hands twisting in the sheets. “Not her, not her.”

“Bucky, shhh, Bucky it’s a dream.” You try to soothe him, smooth a hand across his face. He doesn’t notice, or wake, just continues to fight against some unseen force.

“I can’t.” He pleads, sweat making his hair stick to his face, dark little lines streaking across his forehead to emphasise the pain already written there. “No, no.” He repeats it, over and over, a mantra, a prayer. 

You get up on your knees to crouch over him more, use your hands to shake his shoulders a little and try to ignore the way your heart hammers against your chest, the way it’s threatening to break apart in time with the agony in his screams. “Bucky, wake up! Bucky, you’re okay, you're safe.”

His eyes open, wild and terrified, and you see him see you, see the horror claim his face and see him recoil, push himself further into the mattress to be free from your touch. You know then what his dream was, and how you’d carried it to him when he woke like an unending hell, the dream that won't end.

Your chest is hollow renewed. 

“It’s me, Bucky. You’re awake, I’m here.” You sit back on your haunches, try to give him what little space you can afford without mirroring his retreat and causing any more pain. 

He swallows visibly, closes his eyes with a clenched jaw and then, just when you are about to say something, anything, his eyes open again and lock with yours, a hurricane in those sea-laden eyes. You stare right back, cautious, regretful, because this is everything you wanted to prevent, being the very cause of his pain all over again. A cycle that can never be broken, no matter how hard you try, he tries. 

“Sorry,” he tries to say, voice hoarse from the screaming, swallows again and then clears his throat, “I’m sorry. It’s, uh, been a while since I’ve had one that bad.” You can’t help but notice that he makes no moves towards you, stays exactly where he is, now back pressed against the wall. It doesn’t matter, you tell yourself, even as you ache to touch him. 

“You don’t have to apologise.” You say, automatically, roll your bottom lip between your teeth in an attempt not to press him and then the words pour out of you anyway, like the blood in your mouth. “It was me, right? The dream.” 

He looks away, the muscle in his jaw moving in time to his clenching and then unclenching of his teeth, the darkness of the room dragging along his jaw and high-hollowed cheekbones like he wills them into place, wills a physical barrier between you and him. You hate yourself for asking and yet, need him to answer.

“Yes. It was you.” He says it like it cost him something to do so, each word dragging in the air between you. You feel like a thief, stealing the words from him when he so clearly didn’t want to part with them. A thief further for stealing away his progress like a flesh and blood nightmare, a purgatory made personal for him, for you. 

The silence stretches between you, an open mouth that swallows up all sound and even the memory of sound, a hungry, endless pit of a mouth that swallows you whole. The seconds turn to minutes and slip, like sand, through your fingers and into that mouth until finally, you cast what should be a rope, and instead is an anchor into that mouth-pit. “Well, since I’m up, I’m gonna go get some coffee.”

You see the way his face changes when you say it, think that maybe a slap in the face would have hurt you less and force yourself to climb awkwardly out of his bed and slip out the door before you crumble into dust. He makes no sound, makes no moves to stop you, simply lets you disappear like that dust swept away by the wind.

You retreat to your room, locking the door behind you like it can keep away the thoughts or that wave of despair that's threatening to knock you off your newly found feet, Sam’s concrete already cracking under the strain. You spend hours or minutes pretending to watch TV, ignore Sam when he knocks on your door and Wanda when she texts. You make yourself food and then find yourself staring at the smudges on the wall whilst it goes cold on the table in front of you. The dread in your stomach claws it's way up your throat and threatens to choke you.

You think about that edge you and Bucky had danced along for so long, that leap into the fall you'd taken and those few sweet moments in between where nothing really held its weight to drag you down, soft smiles and smiling, salt water eyes. Well, gravity has its claws in you now, again, you think, and the impact of that fall is fast approaching. 

You know it's him before he knocks, the butterflies that dance along your skin and tumble in your gut whenever he’s near give you more warning than his hesitant knocks, the sounds themselves a sad little song that plucks at the strings of your heart. He waits for you to open the door, which says more about where his head is at than he probably realises, you think, a soft smile that doesn't crinkle his eyes in that way you like is offered, and shared. 

"Hi." You say, and step back to let him in, doing your best to smother those frantic wings.

"I'm sorry about earlier." He rushes out, and you can tell it surprises even him, "I was just caught off guard. And the bruises…"

He trails off and you realise then what he means, your bruises from the sparring with Steve had triggered his nightmares and the suddenness of it makes sense. It changes nothing, but at least it makes sense. 

"You know I'm going to get hurt sometimes, right? What we do here, there's no avoiding it." You begin, not really knowing how to end but knowing that you should.

"I know." His eyes flash, lightning strikes against the turbulent sea, "I just… I didn't know how much it would hurt to see you like that." 

A confession, a secret, meant to be a balm but instead feels like the flames. He'll never be free of the Soldier, you think, not while you walk around like a living hallucination of a past he never deserved. 

"I think…," You start, feel your tongue fat and uncooperative in your mouth, "We need a little space." The air in your lungs already feels like lead, like the concrete that held up your legs is now filling your lungs and chest, drowning you in your own progress.

He says nothing for entirely too long and yet, long enough for you to be grateful for a few more seconds before the collision. "Space."

"I think it's best, don't you?" 

"I can give you space, if it's what you need." He says it like maybe you are the one who needs it.

"Bucky, we can't keep doing this, it's not good for either of us." You say, every bit of emotion clawing its way up your throat, some of it desperate to take back the words. You can feel the shape of each letter scrape against your tongue. "It’s ruining you.”

“It’s not. It’s not.” He says, quieter on the repeat like it’s for himself and not you, his jaw clenches so hard you fear he will snap the tendons. “I love you.”

That’s it, that’s what does it. Breaks you down into all those tiny pieces you used to be, those ones you’ve spent minutes and hours painstakingly stitching and taping back together. You feel the words hollow out space in your chest, replacing the now useless heart that’s beat it’s last beat. The last of your arguments die with it. 

“That’s not what this is, Bucky. It’s a crutch, a coping mechanism. A way to ease all that fucking guilt we carry.” Even to your own ears, you sound void of emotion, the last bit of it carved out by the knowledge of what you had done to him. Guilt howling down the corridors of your heart. “It’s not real.” 

“Don’t say that, of course it’s real.” He breaks the invisible barrier around you and takes your hand, presses your fingertips to his chest, “Can’t you feel it?”. 

He looks at you with such hope that you are almost unmade, the full weight of it hangs off your bones and tries to strip you of that steely nerve but you fight for it, know that this is what he needs if he’s to heal. Go to war with yourself for him. Anything for him.

“I feel a lot of things, Bucky. I feel raw. I feel tired, tired of the guilt, of the fear every time I close my eyes I’ll dream of you, or that I won’t.” The last part sneaks out, betraying more than you want and he latches on to it. “I don’t…”

“Are you afraid you don't love me? Or are you afraid you do?” He asks mildly, like how you might ask about the weather. Or probably, more accurately, like he knows the answer and is just leading you down a path where the answer waits for you to want it.

You shake your head, not in answer but in anger, the kind of uncontrollable rage that comes with defeat. Of words poking at a wound you were denying the existence of. “Stop. Just stop.” Your voice breaks half way, a shout turned cry. A beg for mercy.

“What are you so afraid of?” His voice breaks too, a slow sort of break like the last ebb of his strength, the last air bubble before the silence. It cleaves you in two.

“You!” You shout, pieces of you slipping through your fingertips, not realising what your words would sound like to him. It’s not how you mean it anymore, but he doesn’t know that, takes it on face value alone and you can pinpoint the exact moment you break his ever fragile heart, because you break your own with it. Always with those matching scars and matching pain.

“I’m sorry,” you begin, drift your fingertips across his jaw and let yourself have just one more moment of touching him, “I didn’t....” He closes his eyes, closes himself off, you think, and your fingers smear against the wetness on his face. You turn from him then and head for the door, feeling every single second of the battle and war that raged for him and rages still. 

The sound of the door closing quietly behind you somehow seems worse than if it had slammed, a mirror to the way you had quietly broken the man behind it and even quieter, broken yourself. 

You take a step, and then another, and then more and more until you are out the building and gulping down the fresh air to try calm the beating of your unsteady heart. You fight the urge to go back and undo it all, to somehow scoop up all the words and pieces of you and stuff them back in place but your feet carry you automatically. Somehow, you're not sure how long later but long enough that the sky has changed color, you find yourself at a door, knocking a little too hard and too long until he answers.

“Mallow, what are you doing here?” Clint asks, taking quick stock of your current state and pulling you in for a hug before you can answer.

“I just needed to be away.” You say, and hug him tighter, “Is this okay?”

“Of course it is, come in, Laura’s making cocoa,” he ushers you in, still tucked under his arm, “and you look like you could use some.”

[tsukikento]

Too Fast For Your Own Good Part 1

(part 2) (part 3)

Pairing: Takami Keigo (Hawks x Reader)

Words: 4814

Summary: Soulmate!AU - the first words your soulmate says to you is written on your body in ink.

Genre/Warnings: Nothing? Fluff maybe?

A/N: I got carried away and this got too long so now it’s two parts! Hahaha oops sorry. Anyways, pls enjoy I spent hella time on this! Also posted on my ao3 @ allie_win

When Takami Keigo turned 13, a small tattoo formed on his back, just between his wings. 

The first thing he remembers was the burning sensation he felt in the middle of the night. He remembers yelping from the pain, turning on the light, and looking in the mirror to see what it was. 

Takami was worried that something was happening to his wings, but he was relieved to see that it was his soulmate mark, something he completely forgot about. 

I know I am.

Takami spent that night staring at the marking, admiring the way they curved around his wings. Finally, he had the promise of love.

The next day, Takami came to training sleep-deprived yet still shining happily. He remembers telling a man at the company about it, only for him to brush it off by saying, “Don’t think about your soulmate mark, you will be a hero with no time for romance.”

After that, Takami did not anticipate the meeting of his soulmate. Those words got Takami through a lot of tough situations. They pathed the way for his personality to form.

~~

When Y/L/N Y/N turned 13, a small tattoo formed on your back, just between your shoulder blades.

The burning sensation that you woke up to in the middle of the night scared you so much that you accidentally stopped time. The colorful world turned gray and you took this chance to turn on the lights and check the new mark.

Your parents expected this and preemptively explained the situation to you. They did not, however, describe the pain you were currently feeling.

You spent as much time as you could looking at the words on your back before turning off the lights, getting back into bed, and letting time once again flow without immediate interruptions.

So apparently you’re faster than me?

The words didn’t leave your head that night, and your parents also questioned the meaning when they saw it in the morning. 

A thought that frequently crossed your mind was that obviously you were faster than them. You could stop time! Granted, you couldn’t breathe while you were stopping time, which meant you had to spend time training your breathing, but you could currently go a whole minute without feeling your lungs heat up.

The idea of speed eventually made sense when you were signing up to take the entrance exam at U.A. High School. The professor signing you up asked to see your quirk, to which you paused time, moved to stand next to the professor, and started time.

“Wow, teleportation!” The professor complimented.

Although you were about to correct him, he gave you a number and called the next person up, not allowing you to speak. 

Regardless of how many times you tried to correct someone about your quirk, they constantly interrupted you and didn’t listen. Eventually, you gave up, deciding that deception may be the best choice for you.

From there, and into your graduation, you were known as Teleportation Hero: Telethon.

~~ Present Time - Age 20

When you awoke from a deep sleep on your first day off in two weeks, you were greeted by cool air and birds singing on a bright Sunday morning. You yawned, stretched your limbs, and relished in the warm sunshine coming through your windows that juxtaposed the wind passing by your exposed leg.

Today, you had plans. Relaxation plans specifically. A Swedish massage and celebrity-scale facial were waiting to meet you at your 2 pm appointment today, giving you ample time to eat and get ready. You had been anticipating this appointment for the past month, allowing the excitement to push you through the tough and tireless month you had faced. 

What made this appointment all the more worth it was the effort you put into yesterday’s mission. An earthquake villain appeared in the city and sent down multiple buildings in their wake. The entire situation was incredibly tiring, from the hours spent stopping time and carrying people out of buildings to the paperwork you filled out till midnight yesterday.

You turned onto your side and grabbed your phone off the side table.

You had a few push notifications from various apps as well as a couple texts from your friend, Kaoruko Awata, regarding the dinner plans you both had and your boss Edgeshot, wishing you a good day off. You smiled at the text and responded before putting your phone away. You would love to spend time responding to fans, but you wanted to use less time on your phone today, choosing to focus more on life and nature.

Eventually, you made your way out of bed and got dressed in some exercise clothes. Your stomach was growling at this point, and you were really craving some waffles and a cup of coffee.

Once done cooking, you turned on the television and reached across your coffee table to grab your coffee and felt your muscles ache, reminding you once again of the day previous.

You got the call seconds after the earthquake, and you immediately rushed over. 

Multiple buildings were crumbling down, some were ablaze in wild, red and yellow fires. Heroes were scattered across the scene, all rushing around to help the hundreds of civilians harmed. Some flew through the sky, others working to stop the fires. You didn’t spend much time taking in the scene, opting to begin the rescue mission; you of all people knew the importance of time.

The world thought you could effortlessly transport people from location to location. Opposingly, the process of saving people was rather tedious. You knew the importance of this mission, and you spent as much time as you could in the gray and frozen world you effortlessly created, but you still had to hold your title as Teleportation Hero. At this point, if the world found out you were lying about your quirk, they wouldn’t be able to trust you.

Oh, the hole you had dug yourself was deep and there was no one to help you out of it.

Around 12 pm, you finished your food, turned off the television and pulled out the book you were currently reading. With your busy schedule, you had very little time to read, but your New Year's Resolution was to read more, and this was one of the few days you could stick to that goal.

Regardless of the interesting story, you found yourself drifting back to yesterday’s events.

You had arrived so quickly to the scene that you had no communication earpieces set up and ended up stopping a healing hero to hear about the ongoing battle. 

“You okay?” The healing hero asked first and foremost, ignoring your question.

“Just quirk overuse,” You breathlessly replied. “How is everything going?” You asked again.

“Good, but it’s a slow process,” They replied. The healing hero grabbed a few serums off their belt and mixed them together in a small bottle. “The villain isn’t caught yet, but apparently they are narrowing in on him. He’s on the run right now.”

You nodded in response, silently praying that they catch him to ensure that no one else was hurt. 

“Here, drink this. It’ll give you a burst of energy,” The healing hero said while holding out a vile of blue liquid.

“Thanks,” You replied and immediately downed the shot. It burned down your throat and you felt the energy immediately rush through. It was definitely increasing your adrenaline. You handed the healing hero the bottle back and stopped time to rush into a new building. 

When you realized you had been daydreaming instead of focusing on the story, you silently scolded yourself and grabbed a cup of water to clear your head. You saw the clock read 1 pm, and you decided to get ready now instead of being perpetually late like usual.

You fondly reminded yourself how lucky you were to have a time manipulation quirk that helped counteract your horrible habit of being late.

~~

You ended up finishing the entire process of your massage and facial appointment around 5 pm, giving you less than two hours before your dinner date with Awata. The plan was for her to come over around 6:30, with food in hand, she had just texted you 5 restaurant options for you to judge. You lazed around your house as you looked up each restaurant’s menu and selected your top 2.

From your two, Awata ended up choosing the pizza place and told you that she would call to order right away. About 20 minutes later, you got a text from Awata letting you know that she was on her way.

You replied and went into the kitchen to grab out plates for the pizza. You downed the rest of the water you had been sipping periodically and walked across your small studio apartment to change into a more appropriate outfit than the one you had worn to your appointment.

Once in a comfortable yet surprisingly cute outfit, you moved back into your living room to wait for your friend. It was so uncommon that you got a whole day off without any training or any extra errands to run for work and you were going to utilize every second of rest. You laid down on your couch and quickly got lost in your thoughts.

Your mind wandered to Awata, reflecting on your great friendship with her. Although she was incredibly quiet and soft-spoken, she had the true heart of a hero and craved helping people. Not only that, but she had slowly been getting funnier and funnier due to her job at Sir Nighteye’s office.

You still remembered the smile on her face when she told you that she got the job with a silly joke.

Around 6:30, Awata texted you to buzz her up, and by the time she got upstairs, you had moved the plates and two full cups of water to the coffee table. You got up from your couch at the sound of a knock at your door.

“Hey, Ms. Hero Allstar,” Awata said as she waltzed into your condo with two personal-sized pizzas. “So, what’s it like?”

“What’s what like?” You mumbled, more focused on the steaming pizza that was being handed to you. You both were already drooling at the prospect of gooey cheese and carbs.

“Being so famous!” Your friend yelled as she took on her shoes before plopping down on your love seat.

You scoffed at her comment and rolled your eyes before opening up your pizza, “I’m not even in the top 2,000 heroes.” You grabbed a slice and moved it onto your plate.

“Not after today,” Awata replied, as she joined you in opening up her own pizza.

You looked up at your friend with a confused face, not able to reply because your mouth was filled with pizza.

“Wait, do you really not know?” Awata asked. She reached over and grabbed your television remote, switching it onto a local news station.

The image of two anchors came onto the screen. The view of them quickly switched away to a video of the wreckage from today. “They saved a total of 137 civilians in the span of only two hours. Additionally, no additional damage was caused in the process. This success skyrocketed Telethon to top charts online.”

The screen cut to a scene of you using your quirk to grab multiple people in only a few seconds. You gawked and looked over to your friend. 

“It was truly impressive, but what can you expect from a member of Edgeshot’s agency” The female anchor spoke as the screen cut back to them.

“It is,” The male agreed. “In fact, we have some quotes from yesterday about the situation.”

The healing hero from before popped onto screen. “I worked with Telethon for only a moment today, giving them one of my serums to help give them the energy needed to save people. I feel honored I got to be a part of this record-breaking defeat.”

The screen cut to a young boy, possibly 12 years old.

“Telethon was so cool yesterday!” Their face was bright and it warmed your heart to see their support. “Not only were they fast, but they were fast for hours! That’s endurance! Most speed heroes don’t have that, they might even be faster than Hawks!”

The screen cut back to the chuckling anchors and you looked over to your friend as they talked about the multiple videos circling the internet that almost all had millions of views.

“Holy shit.”

Awata nodded excitedly. “I know.” Although quiet, she could get just as excited as you during great events. She was smiling wider than you were right now.

If you were in your right mind, you might have noticed the correlation between the speed comment, Hawks, and your soulmate mark. However, you were too excited about this new fame to even think about it.

The rest of your night was spent celebrating with Awata, both of you having a few drinks and stuffing your faces with indulgent American-style barbecue.

~~

As weeks passed, the fame for you continued to rise. Your rating approval shot through the roof and you were being stopped more often to give autographs and take photos.

Not only had your fame been rising, but so had the idea of you being faster than Hawks. Although you admired Hawks, you kept away from the drama, opting to focus more on improving your skills to meet the new expectations you were being given.

~~

After about a month of this challenge circulating, Hawks couldn’t help but make a comment. He was so much more popular and powerful than this wannabe, and no one was going to stop him from being the fastest hero. He was being bombarded daily for a comment about the speculation of someone being faster than him. Not only did he hate the attention, but he hated how the doubt of his strengths got to him.

One day, when paparazzi were surrounding him and pestering him about the challenge, he snapped and shouted into the camera.

“There is no way Telethon is faster than me and I will prove it! This is my official challenge for them to come out of hiding and actually race me!” He looked straight into the camera and spoke eerily calm, “I am too fast for my own good.”

~~

You still remembered the fear you felt when you watched the clip on the internet only a few hours after it went viral.

You will admit that you made a connection between your soulmate mark and Hawks’ words at the time, but you brushed them off. Too often were you disappointed after talking to a cute boy that you had been admiring. 

It’s not like you could focus on relationships as a hero anyways.

~~

The next day, your manager told you that he contacted Hawks’ manager and arranged an obstacle race for that Friday.

“It will be great PR,” They claimed, “Even if you don’t win!”

You reluctantly agreed, not like you had much of a choice, and awaited the email that would contain everything you needed to know from the time and date to the price of tickets.

The prospect made you incredibly afraid. To you, the debating of who was faster was more fun than anything. The idea of having to prove yourself was driving you crazy.

What if you couldn’t hold your breath long enough? What if Hawks was so fast that he beat you before you could even stop time?

You sighed and leaned farther back into your soft couch, wishing that the cushions would swallow you up. Maybe this was all a dream and a nice nap would wake you up?

You bit your lip and read through the email, your thoughts drifting off periodically. 

~~

Over the next couple days, you worked privately at expanding your air capacity. Your manager wasn’t allowed to tell you anything about the course, so you had to work hard to perfect your breathing and your speed.

You laid down on the floor of the gym, no one was there because of how late it was. 

Your mind got lost in the thought of how you could technically even win a speed race. Sure you would have to run through everything, but to everyone else, it would just look like you were flashing from one place to the next.

A few years back, you met someone else with a teleportation quirk. They described it as flashing place to place, although they were restricted to only moving about 15 meters. You always thought of your quirk as a time stopping quirk rather than teleportation, but it did help you in battles that people just thought it was teleportation.

Grunting, you got up from your spot on the ground and got back on the treadmill. You stopped time and continued to run for as long as you could, dreading the competition tomorrow.

~~

You woke up to your alarm, the sky was gray and a chilly air flooded through your room, making you cling to your blankets. You heard the sound of rain outside and groaned. You checked your phone, but were too tired to respond to any texts you had received that day.

You got out of bed, your muscles aching and started preparing an ice bath. You hated ice baths more than anything else in the world, but they still dramatically helped your aching muscles. As you stepped into the freezing cold water, you tried your best not to focus on how much it hurt to sit in an ice bath.

After only a couple minutes, you practically jumped out of the water, deciding that you had been in their long enough. You wrapped your body in a towel and started drying off as you made your way to your room. 

You threw on a sweater and sweatpants to keep you warm and started stretching your muscles. From there, you grabbed yourself a freshly brewed cup of coffee and began applying the makeup involved in your hero costume. You made sure to apply a thick foundation and powder to make sure you didn’t appear too greasy in the photos.

You grabbed a snack once done with your makeup and grabbed your bag with any necessities or costume things you would need. Your manager told you to change there so you simply packed everything you would need. 

After double checking that you had everything necessary for the day and competition, you stopped time and casually made your way to the stadium, watching the still rain water in your own gray world.

Luckily, the place wasn’t too far away from your house and you were able to make it there by only needing to start time again a couple of times and take a breath. When you arrived, you were whisked away by your manager who had you immediately get dressed. You then had a couple people fix up your makeup and style your hair.

As this was done, your manager informed you that you would be starting the day with an interview, yours being right after Hawks’. He told you a couple questions they were going to ask and steered you to answer in certain ways.

“We don’t want to give too much away, just make it interesting and fun,” You manager said as the hair and makeup team finished up and left quickly.

You looked at yourself in the mirror and admired the way everything came together before your manager ushered you to the calling curtain. On the other side, you could clearly hear the interview going on between the woman and Hawks.

“So, Hawks, how are you feeling about this whole situation?” The interviewer asked. “You seemed quite angry at all the attention Telethon was getting.”

From your position, there was also a small television that pointed directly at them. You saw the expression of the interviewing as she asked Hawks the question. Her voice was practically dripping with sensuality as she tried to keep Hawks’ attention.

The camera cut to Hawks who was casually sitting back as if he didn’t have a care in the world. “Honestly, I wasn’t. I was upset that I was getting attention. I don’t like when paparazzi follow me everywhere.” He looked from the audience to the interviewer and smirked. “I’m happy that Telethon is getting attention, they deserve it. Granted, I wholeheartedly doubt their faster than me.”

“Oh, really?” The lady inquired. You could tell she was reaching for strings to create drama. She leaned forward and you noted how her skirt inched up just slightly

“Well, I am too fast for my own good,” Hawks replied, grinning and waving his hands to prove his point.. “I’m happy that Telethon is gaining attention, they are a great hero. However, no one will ever be faster than me.”

“Well, Hawks, I’ll be looking for you at the finish line then,” The lady smirked at the blond hero.

You groaned at the obvious bias the interviewer had.

“Anyways,” She started, “That’s all the time we have for Hawks. We are going to take a short break and be back with Teleportation Hero: Telethon!”

The audience clapped and Hawks waved goodbye to the crowd before making his way towards the back. In fact, he was making his way towards you. You gulped down the lump in your throat as your manager began making a few more notes in your ear about what to say in the interview.

You looked down as Hawks approached you, too nervous to look up at him. Not only was he the current number two hero, but he was also your maybe soulmate. You hated to dwell on love like so many people nowadays, but the idea that the Takami Keigo could be the love of your life could make anyone nervous. 

He smirked at you as a sound person came up and started taking his mic off of him and putting it onto you.

Your sense of smell was suddenly crowded with a deep musk, that smelled of woodlands and cherries. The smell was airy and delightful and you noted that it had to have been coming from Hawks.

Finally seeing the number two hero up close made you painfully aware of how handsome he was. 

His dirty blonde hair naturally swept back because of how much time he spent flying. His golden skin practically glowed as he smirked down at you, making you all the more self conscious.

Most of all, you couldn’t take your eyes off his wings. You were sure your face was mirroring their crimson color based on how hot you suddenly felt. They looked so soft and beautiful and you felt a strong pull to touch them as if someone was whispering in your ear.

As you felt the mic being clipped onto your hero uniform, you attempted to bring yourself back into reality. You swallowed your nerves and looked up at the smirking hero in front of you. You could tell he was amused at how obviously starstruck you were. Even with his mic off, he seemed to linger for a few moments to watch you, his eyes trailing up and down your body.

It made you all the more nervous.

You watched as his mouth opened, as if he was about to speak. However, you were quickly pushed by your manager as they ushered you onto stage.

“Wave at the fans!” They said as you were pushed through the red curtain.

You focused back on the crowd as the flashing lights filled your vision. You tried your best not to squint and wave at the people around you. You were making your way to the chair and the interviewer that was awaiting you, when you suddenly felt a bit overwhelmed. You took a few deep breaths and tried to calm yourself.

You gingerly sat down in the seat and smiled brightly at the woman in front of you.

After the applause died down, the interviewer became speaking. “Welcome, Telethon, we are happy to see you today.”

“Oh, the pleasure is all mine,” You replied. Although annoyed, you could still be nice and spread positivity for your young fans. “As a fairly new hero and not very high ranked hero, it is incredibly surreal to be gaining so much attention and thanks for my work. I keep reminding myself to try my best for all the new fans I’ve gained.”

The audience erupted into applause and you could tell the lady was a bit annoyed that you were coming off as so nice and humble. You brushed off her attitude, knowing that you were being true to yourself.

Regardless of how you acted in your own life, you were a hero nonetheless and wanted to be a good role model for aspiring heroes.

“Yes, yes, I’m sure you’re loving the attention,” The lady, who you still didn’t know the name of, said. “However, do you really think you are faster than the number 2 hero?”

You smiled politely at the woman in front of you, even though you were silently wishing she would be hit by a train. “Actually, I’m here for the challenge. Regardless of whether or not I win, I am always looking for a challenge to better myself and gain new experiences.”

“Oh, so you are just doing this to get close to top heroes like Hawks?” The women interjected, stopping you from further explaining yourself.

“No,” You sternly replied. “Like I said, I personally want new experiences and to keep reaching for ways to become a better hero. For example, I’ve been training for the past two days to prepare, and I know my speed has increased, and I’ll be proud of that even if I don't end up winning.”

The interviewer was practically pouting from your ability to easily recover from her questions meant to stump you. From there, the interviewer asked you a few easier questions, such as one about your employment at Edgeshot’s company.

Eventually, she prompted you to say goodbye to the audience and you politely waved and she asked people to tune in at 4 pm today for the competition.

You waved goodbye as you walked off stage and were immediately meeted by the sound person and your manager.

“That was great,” They cheekily grinned at you, knowing full well how annoyed you were with the rude lady.

“Thanks,” You replied, glad your manager was able to understand you so well. “You mind if I take a breather?”

“Not at all, just be back in half an hour,” He replied, “Your bags are in the green room.”

“Thanks,” You mumbled as you made your way around the building to find the green room. Everyone was rapidly walking around and the whole building was incredibly busy. You groaned and stopped time, using this as a chance to search around a quiet area and find the room.

Not only were you pissed that the interviewer was treating you like a child, but you were ridiculously nervous for the competition. You knew it was supposed to be a casual competition, but Hawks made it seem serious for him. He was the number two hero for god’s sake! If he lost to you, it could ruin his career.

Not only was the moral dilemma of letting Hawks win vs. trying your hardest bothering you, but so was Hawks. In the brief minute you were around him, your body filled with uncertainty and you felt intoxicated on his smell and appearance. Maybe it was you getting caught up in the idea that he may be your soulmate, or maybe it was your body telling you he was.

Regardless of your nerves, you were currently most caught up in anger for the interviewer. You entered the green room, and stared straight at the glorious display of food. You didn’t bother to look around the room as you started time again and groan in frustration.

“So you are just doing this to get close to top heroes,” You mumbled, changing your voice to match how annoying it sounded coming from the interviewer’s mouth. “Like I need it, I’m Edgeshot’s top employee and she would have known that if she did any research before the interview.”

You groaned loudly again and turned to face the couch. No one could explain how flustered you felt when you saw Hawks sitting on the couch, eating a plate of fried chicken. When you met his eyes, you felt his golden eyes bore into his soul.

He adjusted to be sitting up straight and moved to place the plate next to him. He cleared his throat and took a sip of water. You watched him the entire time, too embarrassed to speak.

“So,” He finally began, “apparently you’re faster than me?”

[juminhanswife48]

Jumin X MC: going to watch Zen’s play

hehehe had this idea for a while, hope u all enjoy!!!

“MC, slow down!” Jumin quickly shuffled behind her, almost falling victim to the crowds that were accumulating on the sideways. “What is the rush?”

MC grasped his hand tighter, as if she were the mother to a toddler. His heavy feet dragged behind her, protesting every turn she took. He sighed loudly, making faces of annoyance at every sign or mention of the mysterious event. MC fled through the crowds with Jumin attached to her. “Sorry!” MC yelled back with a sweet smile as she bumped into anyone. No one could stay mad at her sweet smile, so even the street punks just brushed off the tiny alterations.

Jumin took note of his surroundings, they were in the heart of the city. The only things there were the theatre, restaurants, clubs, and shops. They’d already had dinner, it was too late to shop, so she was taking him to the club or the theatre.

“We are here!” MC smiled as she stopped in her tracks and looked behind her. There Jumin stood, his eyes relaxed with a look of absolute disgust.

“Why did you take me here?”

MC looked up and pointed to the lighting up sign: ACTOR ZEN GOES BACK TO HIS ROOTS IN...TEI’S TEA LEAF!! PREMIERING FOR ONLY 3 DAYS!! The sign read in glistening golden letters.

“MC...i’m not sitting through an hour of him galloping on stage as his fan girls drool over him.”

“Come on!” MC pleaded. “We have to support our friends.”

“Your friend.” Jumin quickly corrected.

“No, he’s apart of the RFA and we all need to get along.” MC dropped his hand then moved closer to him. “He’d really appreciate if everyone showed up. Seven is already busy with work and can’t come, so i’m sure he would appreciate it if you did.”

“Ugh,” Jumin scoffed. “I’m only going to sit through this for you.”

MC smiled, then grabbed his hand again. “He gave all the RFA members access to the balconies, so we can all watch from there together.”

MC began walking to the entrance with Jumin dragging his feet behind her. “So excited.” He sarcastically nodded.

“Oh! And he told everyone to meet in his dressing room before the show.”

Jumin looked up at the night sky before they entered the building.

This is going to be a long night.

_______

“Hey!” Zen smiled wide as MC opened his dressing room door. “I’m so glad you came!” He got to MC’s level and gave her a friendly hug.

“Hi Zen.” MC quickly hugged him.

“Back up.” Jumin appeared into the doorframe.

“Ugh why did you have to bring this JERK?” Zen rolled his eyes obnoxiously as he backed away from MC.

“Don’t hug MC like that.” Jumin immediately shot back.

“We aren’t doing this tonight.” MC said as she put herself in between the two men. She knew things would escalate if she didn’t intervene, and although it would be so entertaining to watch them hash it out, now wasn’t the time.

“Jumin, it was just a friendly hug. And Zen, stop calling him names.”

Jumin smirked at Zen, then grabbed MC’s waist and pulled her in close to him.

“Anyways!” Zen said. He turned quickly, his long ponytail swaying in the air. “Seven couldn’t make it. And Jaehee said she might be a little bit late.” He sat on his chair, then made direct eye contact with Jumin. “Thanks to her lovely boss who exploits her labor-”

“Oh my god you guys need to stop.” MC interrupted.

“I haven’t said or done anything yet to incite an argument.” Jumin said innocently. He looked around the room and saw a red couch, up against the wall. Jumin quietly took MC’s hand then walked to the couch and they sat shoulder to shoulder.

“Zen, don’t you have to do makeup or something?” MC asked, quickly changing the subject. Maybe it was a mistake taking Jumin to the musical, but she thought it would be a sweet gesture to support Zen.

“No, i just have to change my clothes before the play starts.” Zen answered.

MC always loved when the whole RFA spent time together, although it was really hard to get those gatherings.

Jumin already had a busy schedule, Jaehee too. Seven was constantly backed up with work, and Zen got mobbed in the daylight. When the RFA got together it was usually in private, or at night time. There was a flip side though, Yoosung was usually always free and loved hanging out with MC. Jumin didn’t mind when they hung out too much; he just requested that MC texted him every half hour.

“Hellooo!” Yoosung proudly announced as he answered the room. The awkward veil got lifted, as Zen smiled back. “I had to ask for directions back here and the security thought I was Zen’s fan...Oh, hey MC and Jumin!”

“Hi Yoosung.” MC said cheerfully. Jumin raised his hand up then waved.

Rather quickly Zen and Yoosung began talking amongst themselves.

Jumin focused his attention back to MC, then placed his hand on her thigh. She looked at him, her eyes big with a rose blush appearing on her cheeks.

“Jumin…” She whispered. She rubbed her nose then smiled. “About what Zen said…I feel really bad for Jaehee,” She placed her hand on top of his. “She works so hard for you, you don’t exploit her, but she deserves a break once in a while. You should go easy on her.”

“Please MC, not right now. Let’s talk about this later.”

“I’m sorry.” She was slightly embarrassed.

“Hey!” Yoosung said as he looked at Jumin. “I’m surprised you came...”

“MC just dragged me around town, she didn’t tell me where we were going.”

“Ohh, now i get it. That’s smart, MC. Good one.” Zen chimed in.

“Super smart!” Yoosung said.

Yoosung and Zen resumed their conversation, then Jumin looked into MC’s eyes. “I’m sorry if i hurt your feelings. I didn’t mean it that way. I just want to keep my work separate from my personal life.”

“I get it, it’s ok.” MC said. Jumin smiled then squeezed her thigh.

“Heyyy! So gross and handsy!!” Zen laughed loudly.

Jumin quickly took his hand from her thigh, then rolled his eyes. “You both are so childish.”

“Ignore them.” MC softly said. Jumin’s face was lit up with shades of red and pink, he tried to cover his face but it didn’t work, which Zen blissfully pointed out.

Zen and Yoosung continued with their laughter, until a tiny feminine voice said ‘Hello’ at the door.

MC looked up and saw Jaehee standing there, nervously twiddling her thumbs. She was wearing a simple, yet elegant dress. It was peach colored with light sparkles and layered with lace.

“Jaehee you look so beautiful.” MC said. Zen nodded in agreement.

“You do too, thank you so much.” Jaehee said as she slightly lowered her upper body to bow.

“Hi Jaehee.” Zen and Yoosung said in union.

Jumin simply looked up at Jaehee and nodded his head.

“I’m really grateful you all came,” Zen started. “I work really hard for my plays and it means a lot that you guys want to see that.”

“I know you work hard, that’s why i wanted everyone to see how talented you are.” MC said.

Jumin felt a hit of jealousy to him with that comment. He knew MC didn’t mean to make him jealous, but he still felt it. Jumin looked back to MC’s face and stared. It was something he did to silently get her attention, or when he needed to mask his own insecurities. MC looked at Jumin and saw his eyes, then she knew how he was feeling. She grabbed his hand then intertwined her fingers with him. Dammit, she thought to herself. She always forgot that supportive comments towards Zen usually made Jumin feel a certain type of way.

“I’m happy i get to experience your plays live, they usually sell out very quickly!” Jaehee smiled.

“Yeah you’re getting really really popular.” Yoosung agreed.

MC felt really bad for Jaehee. As many times as she tried to convince Jumin to not overbear her with work, he only partially listened when MC started to get frustrated, which always ended up with the same old “work life is not part of my personal life, blah, blah, blah” defense. MC had even offered to take up some of Jaehee’s work, but Jumin always respectfully declined.

So whenever MC noticed Jaehee not taking proper care of herself, or drowning in work, she would always swoop in and take Jaehee under her wing. MC couldn’t count the times that she had sent food to Jaehee, or spent hours with her organizing documents and helping her write up reports behind Jumin’s back. Jaehee and MC had a tight bond, wether Jumin denied it or not.

“Well, the show starts in 20 minutes so now that everyone is here maybe you should go to the balcony,” Zen started. “You guys just walk down this hallway, there should be stairs. Then just go to the right there should be a security guard, he’ll tell you where to go from there.”

____________

The show was going great. Zen’s performance was very respectful, and his talent poured out of every line and song he performed. MC had never viewed any of his work until then, but she had quickly realized why he was famous.

Jaehee was enjoying herself more than ever before, and although Yoosung was intently engaged with the play, it was obvious he was a bit confused as to what was going on, often times whispering to Jaehee for confirmation to this questions.

But MC couldn’t seem to focus or enjoy the play, there was something slowly eating away at her conscience. She could feel that Jumin wasn’t enjoying himself. Well, he probably wouldn’t enjoy himself in the first place; musical theatre and Zen weren’t his favorite things. But she could sense he wasnt feeling the best way, about a different topic.

“Jumin,” MC whispered into Jumin’s ear. He jumped a bit, surprised of how close she was. The loud musical number wasn’t helping her case, as it was really hard to hear anything besides Zen’s singing. “We need to talk?”

He nodded his head, then they got up and walked out of the balcony, which drew the attention of Jaehee and Yoosung.

“Be quick!” Yoosung smiled. Jaehee looked at the couple then sighed, they were ruining the beautiful moment, in her mind.

Jumin followed MC out to the vacant hallway, where she balanced herself up against the grey wall. This hallway that connected to the balcony was for VIP guests only, so it acted like a storage space away from the general public. Carts full of wires, books, and costumes flooded the sides of the hallway.

There was always something so eerie and creepy about empty hallways, especially during a musical. You were still able to head the distant echos from the theatre room, but the hallways amplified the tiny sound to make it sound like something out of a horror movie.

“When i’m being friendly to Zen, it’s nothing more than that. I’m just trying to be supportive, and i know it bothers you sometimes. I just want you to know I only have eyes for you.” MC said. Jumin got in front of her, then blinked a few times.

“I’m sorry, you just know how him and I don’t get along, sometimes i feel like he takes advantage of your kindness to get back at me.”

MC smiled. “I...I don’t think Zen is that malicious towards you. He’s just a friendly and flirtatious person.” She put her hands on his chest then began to smooth out his jacket. “But. I know when to draw the line with him.” She picked a piece of Elizabeth’s fur off of his jacket and looked up at him. “And i always do.”

“I would hope so. I’m serious when it comes to things with you.”

“Me too, Jumin. I really love you. But with that being said, if there’s something that you want me to stop doing...then I will.” She took her hands away from his chest, letting her arms rest by her side. “I care more about your happiness, and us at the end of the day.”

Jumin nodded his head then pulled her in for a tight hug. “Just stay the way you are with me.” MC felt a light kiss on the top of her head.

The rest of the night played out well, Jumin and Zen were still bitter towards each other, but Jumin felt more secure with his relationship with MC. It was getting easier for him to realize that her support for Zen only came out of the place that made him fall in love with her in the first place: her kindness and regard for others.

[buckyscrystalqueen]

Meant To Be: Part 6

Pairings: Machine Gun Kelly x Reader

Warnings: Swearing, drug use, smut

Word Count: 3,253

A/N: Y’all can thank @wings-of-a-raven for this one….

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Alright close…”

“Colson, I am not closing my fucking eyes with the baby in my arms.” You snapped before he could even finish as you headed toward the front door with a shake of your head.

“Do you have any fucking idea how much of a buzz kill you are sometimes, bitch?” He asked as he stopped at the door. “Alright, so I called some people… and I hope it all works for you ‘cause I didn’t know what the fuck half the shit was.”

“What did you do, Colson?” You sighed as you hiked Gage up on your hip a bit more and quickly caught his hand before he could pull on your hair while he babbled away.

“I fixed it.” He said with a shrug as he pushed the front door open and stepped inside. You instantly noticed the stair case, which now had plexiglass along the banisters, and a decorative baby gate at the top and the bottom that matched the black wrought iron, perfectly.

“Babe.”

“You wanted a medium.” He said with a shrug. “I mediumed.” Your head bobbed slowly as he turned you to lead you toward the living room, where some of the crew were hanging out along with a woman you hadn’t seen in almost two years.

“Sawyer!” You cried, making her whip around toward you, sending her half black, half red hair flying in an arch behind her.

“You’re here!” She screeched as she jumped to her feet and handed Slim the joint in her fingers, that you realized you hadn’t smelled the way you normally did when you stepped into the house. “Did he tell you?”

“Tell me what?” You asked as you gave her a one armed hug, but Kels quickly pulled you away.

“Not there yet.” He said as he pulled you a couple steps over toward the entertainment center. “Look, straps and shit so it don’t fucking fall, drawer locks that apparently keep JP at bay, too.”

“Hey!” Rook shouted from the couch as the rest of the group taunted him.

“We got these things.” Kels continued as he tapped a knee high box beside you with his toe. “Air purifiers or some shit. Dude said they were the quietest shit on the market so each room’s got one.” Your heart melted as he brought you around each room of the house, showing off every little thing he had had done to ensure that Gage was absolutely safe in the typically wild household. Every door handle and outlet had a cover, every drawer was latched closed. He even went as far as making sure there was a table that was about five feet tall and had a four inch plexiglass lip around the edge to ‘keep the drugs in one spot.’

“Colson.” You said as you looked over at him with a stunned expression as you tried to come up with the words.

“Not done.” He said as he spun you back toward the stairs. “So as you saw, Rook got moved.” He started as he held the gate open for you. “And let me tell you, fixing up his damn room cost me an arm and a fucking leg. But… Gage now has his own room.”

“Jesus.” You gasped as you walked in and looked around the ‘rockstar’ room that you were honestly a little jealous of. “How the fuck did you do all this?”

“Text messages and phone calls when you were napping.” He said as he shut the door and sent someone a text. Your brow furrowed and you looked over at him while setting Gage down to play as the floor beneath your feet started to vibrate the slightest bit. “Sound proof.” He said as he pointed up to a camera above the door, one in the far corner facing the crib and the door, and one on the crib facing the bed. 

“Baby monitors. So you can have fun and keep an eye on him at the same time. And Sawyer has agreed to be our nanny of sorts for the low, low price of rooming with Rook, some first class seats around the world, and some weed as payment. I’m working on fixing up the bus so you guys can come with me to fest and when we go on tour here in the states next year after we all go to Europe and…” His thought was cut off as you cupped his jaw in your hands and kissed him with tears in your eyes. He smiled against your lips and slid his arms around your waist as the tension he was carrying in his shoulders slipped away. 

“Thank you.” You whispered when you pulled away to rest your forehead against his. “Baby…”

“You two belong here.” He said softly as he carded his fingers through your hair. “Not in your own fucking place. Not out of my fucking arms. I won’t fucking lose you again, baby girl. I won’t make it…”

“I’m not going anywhere.” You whispered as you pulled back to search his eyes. “We’re a family. We’re here, together.”

“Fuck yes we are.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Ba-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na.” You sang loudly, changing the lyrics to ‘All The Small Things’ by Blink 182 the slightest bit since you were feeding your 10 month old a banana for dinner. “Ba-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na.” Gage squealed, took the cut up piece of banana out of your fingers and shoved it in his mouth, completely ignoring the last few pieces of shredded chicken and rigatoni on his high chair tray for your much more entertaining food of choice. “Ba-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na!” You screamed as you threw your hands up and danced in a circle in the rented RV, until your eyes landed on a cell phone and the person that was holding it in the doorway.

“So this is the fun I’m missing out on.” Colson teased. “Well fuck, baby. I wanna join!”

“Well here’s the ba-na-na-na.” You laughed as you handed your boyfriend the banana and the knife. “Small bites. I’m gunna finish getting ready…”

“Late night! Come home!” Kels said over you in a forced horse tone as he handed Gage the next bite while head banging to the music on your phone. With a giant smile, you headed back into the bedroom and pulled off his shirt to reveal your fest outfit that was thankfully banana and pasta sauce free thanks to your mock apron. Your head bobbed the slightest bit as you double checked your hair was still messily decent before grabbing your Doc Martens and heading back out toward the bathroom.

“The fuck is that?” Kels demanded as he almost instantly stopped dancing and stood up straight to look at you. “Oh no. Fuck no, you’re not wearing that!” You stopped dead in your tracks and cocked your eyebrow at him before slowly looking down at your outfit.

“You’re really gunna fucking say that to me.” You said simply as you looked back up at him, pointedly.

“Yea, cause you look like a stripper… is that my shirt?”

“Not any more.” You hissed as you stepped into the bathroom.

“Babe, you’re a fucking mother!” Colson shouted as he handed Gage a slice of banana and stormed over toward the bathroom where you were starting to do your makeup.

“And what, a mother can’t wear a cut off shirt and…”

“And fucking underwear!? You’re wearing fishnets and a fucking garter belt…”

“And what, you think you can tell me what to wear again all of a sudden, asshole?” You snapped as you turned and shoved him out of the bathroom and into the wall.

“Yea, when you dress like that!” You took a step back and popped your jaw in aggravation.

“OK.” You said with a nod as you tossed your makeup on the counter and grabbed the edge of his shirt, which you had cut up and tied to the point where it barely covered your breasts. “Here, I’ll just go like this.”

“The fuck you are!” He shouted even louder as he looked at the XX tape that you had strategically placed over your nipples before he saw the back of the high waisted bathing suit bottoms you had on that left little to the imagination. “WHAT THE FUCK, HOE?!”

“Come on, baby boy.” You cooed with a smile as you pulled the tray off the high chair and set it on the table since he was done eating anyways. “You and your slutty Mommy are going home because I am not putting up with this shit again.”

“No… fuck. OK, wait, hold on.” Colson said as he quickly ran around you and stood in front of the door. “OK, you win.”

“It’s not about fucking winning, Kels.” You sighed as you pulled some chicken out of Gage’s hair. “I’m my own fucking person and I make my own fucking decisions, right? Which means, that at my age, I can discern what is appropriate to wear to a fucking music festival, where I do not have my son with me, and where I’m going to be doing drugs for hours on end while someone else parents for the night. So yea, mama’s gunna be a fucking skank for the night. Mama’s gunna get fucking drunk in the skimpiest outfit she can because I fucking can. 

And if you don’t fucking like it, you can stay here with our son and give Sawyer the night off of nannying and editing books and shit to party with me. Or, you can shut the fuck up about what I’m fucking wearing, give your fucking son a bath, and come get fucked up with me. Appreciate the fact that your baby mama still fucking has it and appreciate the fact that you’re the one tapping this ass. Bath time, baby boy.” You leaned forward and kissed the slightly annoyed look off Colson's face and passed him Gage with a huge smirk. “Tell me what to fucking wear again, and there will be no discussion. I’ll just punch you in the fucking throat.”

“Bitch, I fucking dare you.” He growled as he stood where he was and looked at your only partially covered ass. “You do look hot as fuck, though.”

“I know!” You called out over your shoulder as you grabbed your shirt off the floor and stepped back into the bathroom to do your make up. “Bath, Colson. I wanna get fucked up with my pain in the ass, control freak baby daddy.”

——

The music in the dome was so loud, it was almost literally rattling your bones, but you welcomed it with open arms. Your heated skin was covered with a sheen of sweat as you danced, mesmerized by the strobing colorful lights that were flashing in a random pattern across the white tent and PVC pipes that created the structure. Colson’s fingers traced your side like a feather, creating electric tingles trail in their path, as you danced with Ashleigh with your ass on his hip. You knew, just by the way he subtly shifted away then toward you and 

by the way his fingers would grip your hip periodically as you danced, you were driving him crazy, but he was still acting like ‘Kels’ and not the ‘Colson’ you wanted.

“Colson.” You whined as you turned and pressed up against his bare chest between songs, distracting him from whatever it was that he was saying to the crowd about some movie you didn’t care about. “I need you to please, PLEASE bend me over fucking anything and make me forget my own name. Please Daddy…”

“Movie now.” He said a little quickly as he pushed you past him toward the stairs. “I’ll be out in tent city later on. Diaper duty and shit…”

“Colson!” You hissed from the bottom of the stairs because he was taking too long.

“Fuck you, I’m coming.” He barked as he passed the mic off to Mod without a second glance. You grabbed the edge of your shirt and playfully pulled it up in the darkness behind the tent, which made Colson growl at you as he stepped out behind the tent. “Just fuckin’ asking for trouble.”

“So worth it.” You yelped as he picked you up and tossed you over his shoulder like a rag doll, which simply turned you on even more. You whined and slid your hands down his back to grab his ass as he headed down the short row of RVs. He retaliated by slapping your ass and thigh as hard as he could a couple times, guaranteeing that you would not be able to dress so risqué the next day.

“Show everyone whose ass this is.” He growled as he yanked the door to your RV open, startling Sawyer who was sitting at the table, working.

“And that’s my cue.” She said quickly as she gathered all her things and leapt to her feet.

“Thanks Soy.” You said from your upside spot with a small smirk and wave. “Got him from here.” She nodded her head, tossed her work on the bed above the drivers seat where she and JP were ‘sleeping’ and glanced into the pack and play that was set up in front of the couch before hurrying out the door to go party for a while. You squealed as quietly as you could when you were tossed on the bed and smirked up at the love of your life.

“You’re in so much fucking trouble, bitch.” Colson growled as he put one knee on the bed and reached up to snap the strap holding your fishnets up against your inner thigh. “Fuck… you are one sexy mother fucker, babe.”

“Why are you talking?” You asked as you used the edge of the bed to kick off your boots. “Daddy, please…”

“Say it again.” He groaned as he quickly pulled his jeans and boxers off and tossed them to the side. 

“Daddy.” You cooed with a smile as you took off your shirt and tossed it to the side.

“Fuck, I missed that. No, fucking leave ‘em.” He said as he whacked your hands before you could pull off the tape on your nipples. “You’re in fucking trouble. Making me watch men stare at your ass all night long. And then you started fucking dancing.” You whined and squirmed on the blankets as he snapped the other side before quickly bending down to bite the red spot he had made. Your whine caught in your throat as he scraped his nails down the back of your thigh, knowing you loved the pain as much as he did.

“Colson please…”

“Fuck you.” He barked as he snapped the strap again. “Teasing me all night.”

“I’m gunna fucking kill you if you don’t…” You yelped as he quickly reached up and ripped off one of the strips of tape before covering your mouth with his hand.

“Bitch, I fucking dare you to try to act like the fucking boss here.” He said, as he fit his hips between your thighs. “We both know I’m the fucking boss between these thighs. Isn’t that right, bitch?” You nodded your head and squeaked again as he popped the straps once more before he pushed your bottoms to the side and pushed himself in. Your jaw dropped and you cringed when he scratched the back of your thighs harder while hiking your legs up on his hips.

“No foreplay at all here, huh?”

“You had plenty of fucking foreplay on the fucking dance floor.” He said as he leaned down and kissed you roughly. “And I don’t think you can not wake up Gage if I go down on you…”

“Fine just shut up and fuck me.” 

“Getting fucking bossy again.” He cooed with a devilish smirk as he spanked the side of your thigh and your ass. “Daddy’s not liking the…”

“He’s gunna be really fucking pissed if he doesn’t fucking fuck me.” You groaned as you tried to roll your hips against his, but with the way he was laying, you couldn’t move much at all.

“Oh, no…” He tisked with a shake of his hand as he dug his nails into your left thigh with one hand and placed his other on your throat. “Who’s the fucking boss?”

“No.” You said, daringly as you grabbed his wrist with both hands, begging him with your eyes alone to give you more than the torture he was giving out currently. “Please…”

“Who’s the fucking boss?” He growled lowly as he leaned forward so that his mouth was right beside your ear. His grip tightened around your throat and your whole body tensed. “Answer me.”

“Daddy…” You whispered as you moved your hand to cup his jaw so you could gently push his face above yours. “Daddy, please.”

“Tell me, baby.” He said as he searched your eyes, loosened his grip for a moment, and steadily started to pick up his pace. “Who’s your fucking Daddy.”

“You.” You gasped between gasps as you tangled your fingers in his sweat dampened hair. “Only you.”

“Damn fucking right.” He said with a giant smirk as he pulled your leg up on his hip more so he could pick up a bruising pace. You nodded your head and stretched so that you could capture his lips to conceal your moans. Colson molded you like putty, taking his time to add bursts of pain to your pleasure with the garter belt straps and the tape on your chest, just as you did every time you clawed at his shoulders and back, needing him closer and deeper.

“Baby please.” You begged when you hit the edge you needed to sail over.

“Stay there, baby girl. I’m almost there.” You nodded your head and slid your hand down his back to just above his perfect ass.

“Come with me.” You whispered as you dragged your nails across his tats, which made him him tighten his grip on your throat even more.

“Fuck yes…” He growled out as he found your clit with his thumb and threw you over the edge.  Your whole body tensed and your fingers and toes curled as he buried himself deep and came with you. He let his grip on your throat go and buried his face in your hair to muffle his swearing as you took a deep, shuddering breath and slid your arms around his back.

“Damn, baby.” You sighed as he pulled out of you but rolled you both on your sides. “Fucking love you.”

“Fucking love you.” He huffed with a smile as he tilted your chin to look at the handprint he almost purposely left on your throat. You can see the satisfied smirk playing behind his eyes as he brushed his thumb across the forming bruise as the lie formed on his lips. “Sorry.”

“No, you’re not.” You giggled as you unsnapped your garter belt from your fishnets to take them off. “You stayin’ with me and the baby or are you going back out?”

“Probably gunna smoke a joint with you, and go out to tent city for a bit.” He sighed as he rolled onto his back to find his jeans.

“OK just help me move the play pen in here before you go so that Rook and Sawyer don’t wake up Gage.”

“Will do, baby.”

Part 7

[youarejesting]

Hope in the Sheets.3

[Masterlist]

Beta: @lunarlxve​ Pairing: Hoseok x Reader Genre: Friendship, Comedy, Soft boy, Fluff, SMUT, Friends2Lovers,

Summary: You held many titles: his neighbor, colleague, wing-man… well, more likely a wing-woman, yet most importantly, you were his best friend. You had been friends since you were born. Between the two of you, you were younger; barely, but he never let you forget it. He always seemed to ruffle your hair and tease you, which could get rather annoying but he made up for it by treating you to things. What if a drunken one night stand between you and your best friend Hoseok leads to more complicated situations? Your reckless twenties are cut short as you find yourself suddenly responsible for something a little more.

Warning: Reference to a previous sexual encounter, pregnancy, mentions the word abortion. (the doctor just gives the reader a list of options and pamphlets.)

It was no good, no matter how much you tried to ignore him, Hoseok was an integral part of your life. The only time you two spent apart was when you were sleeping and now at work. Maybe this was good, you had needed time to think. With everything that had happened, you found it hard to look at Hoseok the same way. 

Realizing that you loved him didn’t help your situation, if anything, it made it worse, because now you were analyzing every smile he gave to you or others. Hanging onto every word he said as if it was the clue to revealing how he felt about you.

You were having trouble sleeping at night because of all this mental run around, and it was affecting your work life. You happened to catch each other after work, and whilst feeling emotional, you asked him.

“Are we friends?” You played with the hem of your dress and mentally slapped yourself for letting the question slip.

“Of course, we are best friends” Hoseok turned the bus lurching slightly, His firm arms securing you in your seat before you face planted the floor of the bus. He did this quite often knowing your body always relaxed on bus rides, and he had watched you fall one time after work and made it his duty to always catch you. 

 “What’s got you doubting me?” He smiled softly

“I don’t know, I just feel like you’re going to disappear,” it was a flippant way of answering but nonetheless true. 

“Hey, look at me, the only way I would leave you is unwillingly when I die,” he said.  “But even then I will haunt you as a ghost because I can’t let you stumble through life on your own.”

“Who will cuddle you when you feel sick, and who will catch you when you fall asleep on the bus?” He tickled your side and hugged you. “My little darling, I will be here to protect you for as long as this heart beats.”

You had told Hoseok there was so much going on you needed time to process the changes from work and he gave you a little space. For the first three days at least. But then he was back at your door, wanting to have dinner with you and watch Netflix. He claimed he missed his best friend and part of you was offended by the title.

You were being Friendzoned by a guy who also called you his dream girl after your rather spectacular one nightstand together that he doesn’t even remember. You looked at him, he was all dressed up and standing at your doorstep arms wide and an equally wide smile. 

He noticed your sour expression, and his hands dropped concern on his face. You turned away from the door leaving it open, and retreating into the depths of your tiny apartment. He caught the door stepping inside and pressing it shut. “Little Darling, tell me what’s wrong?”

“Nothing Hobi, everything is okay. Really I just…” You slumped onto the couch, “I don’t know.”

“Well, I do know, and what I know is,” He said, starting his argument strongly. You panicked, thinking maybe he had figured it out. You tensed greatly, ready for the rejection. You weren’t ready, do you deny it or not perhaps you could convince him he was wrong, play it off cool like you don’t remember or something. He was closing in walking closer to you before he fell to his knees.

“Please let’s go to the club, I have to find my dream girl,” he pleaded, hands clasped together. You swatted his hands from your face like you swatted the intimate memories from your mind. 

“Can we just for tonight, not go out, how about pizza and go to bed early? I am so tired.” You sneezed, leaning back over the couch to the kitchen bench to grab a tissue. Your nose was stuffy and had been all day. Hoseok stood up, pulling off his brightly colored jacket and threw it on the arm of the couch.

“You must be getting sick, you keep sneezing,” Hoseok looked you over, placing his hand on your forehead. 

“I think I might be, I just feel so lethargic,” you whined, your body sank into the couch in relief. He doesn’t know yet, should you feel guilty for keeping this from him? Probably, but you didn’t because what he didn’t know kept him in your life.

“Hey, just lay down. I will make some tinned soup for you, we won’t go out tonight,” he hummed, looking at the sick look on your face. He was so worried you hadn’t the heart to tell him that sixty percent of how you felt was anxiety induced. “I would be too worried about you if I did.”

“Thanks, Hobi.” Your smile was genuine as he placed down the bowl of tomato soup, the kind with letters, and he sat with you. The two watched animated movies and laughed at the dumb humor. You were both so immature, but it was blissful, you had no responsibilities except yourselves and work, otherwise, you were happy to rot your brain and do nothing. Hobi carried you to your bed and wrapped you in the blankets.

“Thank you so much Hobi,” You said. You were so grateful to have him in your life. Seriously was your life worth living if your best friend through it all wasn’t beside your side.

“Hey, that’s what best friends are for,” he kissed your forehead telling you to text if you need anything before he went to his apartment next door. 

Needless to say, it was a rough night, you opened the balcony doors to your apartment, letting the gentle evening breeze cool your hot skin. How can someone be so sweaty? Perhaps you were breaking a world record without knowing. 

Hoseok walked with you to the bus stop, on the way through the urban jungle you called home, you passed a coffee shop. One that the two of you would frequent if you were early enough for work. Today however, the smell hit you wrong, and you felt absolutely disgusted walking away quickly. “Do you want a coffee, little darling?”

“No, thanks Hobi the smell is giving me a headache.”

“What about tea or hot chocolate?” You shook your head no. 

“No, I think I won’t today.” You walked to the bus stop and slumped onto the bench, your work uniform was in rain, or shine, the same frilly dress. So when you sat down, your bare thighs were on the cold metal of the bus bench. You launched yourself from the seat, but it was already too late your body reacted, tiny hairs on your arms legs neck raising in protest to the temperature.

You stood, using the wall of the bus stop to protect you from the cool breeze. The early mornings were always chilly, especially since you got up before or with the sun most days. Today was so bitingly cold that your nipples peaked, causing a small amount of pain under your clothes.

“Hey, are you all good? You look hella uncomfortable, like you're taking 3rd-year greek.” Hoseok sipped his coffee and did this thing where he would pout, and contemplate the flavor while the warmth filled his body. You had in fact questioned him one day about this particular habit and that was the only way he could explain it.

He sat down on the bench, and you walked over, and sat on his lap, he laughed placing his hand on the bench beside him. “That will freeze your itty bitty tush off won’t it, my little darling?”

“It’s all good. I have a strong Hobi horse. He has strong legs and lets me sit on his lap.” You smiled, not really wishing to explain what was happening. “On another note, despite your bitter coffee, you smell nice Hobi.” 

You wrapped your arms around him pressing your chest to his in hopes of warming up your chest, and while also resting your head on his shoulder so you could smell his spicy cologne. He must have thought your surprise hug was unexpected because he pinched his neck nervously before laughing, and easing into your familiar hold. 

“Did you book an appointment with the doctor?” You nodded, showing him the confirmation text which seemed to give him some relief. “Just don’t forget to see the doctor this afternoon, making the appointment and showing up, are two different things.”

“Don’t worry, I will remember, you just concentrate on your work.” You watched the bus slow to a stop. 

“Work is so much harder without you.” Hoseok stood up, and the two of you headed onto the bus taking your regular seats. “I miss how easy it felt, and how quickly the time passed when you were by my side making me laugh.”

“Yeah, I miss making dumb jokes during work, it’s hell without you there.”

“Plus, they have me working the haunted house ride, and you know I hate it, even if it is for kids. And I have to see their little faces covered in tears. It’s not a fun job.”

“I am sorry Hobi, maybe we can work together again soon.”

“I have already applied to work with you again, little darling once the trainee is finished learning the basics it will be you and me again,” you laughed at his forward-thinking. You didn’t think to apply now to work together, which would mean once training the new staff, it would take six weeks processing before you could work together. He did it already so when training ended, you would be together again. The bus hit the brakes, and Hoseok threw his arm out pulling you to his chest so you wouldn’t fall. 

You felt your heart racing, your body pressed to his so protectively. “Are you okay?” He straightened you up in your chair. 

“I’m alright, thank you for taking care of me.” He looked you in the eyes searching them,  and you were dazed staring into his eyes. 

You were thankful that yours was the next stop as you stepped out and vomited in the garden. Your stomach had churned from the jarring motion of the bus. 

The day moved slowly, and you found yourself thinking more and more on what could possibly be wrong. Could it be something serious, or even deadly? Whatever it was, it seemed the more you stewed over the issue, the more your anxiety worsened and your symptoms seemed almost stronger. 

You had unfortunately experienced dizzy spells throughout your shift until you had lunch, almost falling on a customer when you had buckled them in. But, you were thankful for a break, where you could sit down and vent while stuffing your face with Johnny in the staff room. 

It had made you feel better to just get out your frustration, and Johnny and Mark, from the burger joint had watched you aggressively devour your lunch. They even gave you some of the side dishes from theirs, claiming that you needed it for your energy. 

“It could be a blood sugar thing,” Johnny smiled, handing you another rolled omelet, “you said you were dizzy, and after eating you feel better.” He hummed, Mark was nodding, pointing at Johnny. 

“He is right, you know,” before pushing your water bottle closer. “Stay hydrated too, water is good.”

“Hey, Mark, Johnny you two are so sweet,” you said, finishing everything they had offered, already feeling much better.. 

“I will give you a lift after work to your appointment,” Johnny said. “Can’t have you roaming the streets. Hoseok would be furious.”

“I might have to take you up on that offer.” You yawned wanting nothing more than to sit all day. 

“Of course, meet me and Johnny at the front gate of the park, and we can cruise down the highway.” Mark grinned pretending to drive and wiggling a little in his seat. Mark finished his last spoonful of yogurt and berries which, you admit, you were particularly envious of. They looked so delicious. 

“I have to go pee before I get back to ride duty,” you said, scurrying away to the bathroom once more. You were sitting in the stall dreading going back to work. You were dreading working the rest of your shift without Hoseok, the one guy who made you happy. Without him, work was so tiresome.

You took a deep breath, trying to stop yourself from vomiting from the sheer anxiety of being away from Hoseok. It was almost unhealthy, the way you needed him to know what happened that night, and how you felt about him.  

There was way too much stress on your body, and you promptly threw up everything you ate for lunch. You cried, not only because you had wasted a really good lunch, but because you felt so alone. It was akin to losing a friend, and he was your only friend, the longest, and closest friend you had.

Sniffing, you wiped your face and blew your nose before heading to the sink to clean up your face, “are you okay?” A woman asked, looking concerned, she was waiting for her daughter to finish in the stall so they could resume their day out at the theme park.

“I’m okay,” you reassured her. “Just a bit sick”

“Have you been drinking?” She eyed you up and down before her beady orbs landed on your name tag.

“God no, I am just dying of some untreatable disease,” You said hoping the judgemental woman would back off, and she was literally stepping away from you. You rolled your eyes walking from the bathroom. and back to work.

After work, you trekked through the park passing the haunted house and almost laughed at Hoseok’s cute pout face. You gave him a big wave, and he beamed waving back. It was so wholesome and made your grueling day worth it.

Mark jogged over with a grin, “Come on Y/n let’s get you to the doctor so you feel all better.” He wrapped an arm around your shoulder, and you saw Hosoek’s face fall slightly. It was wishful thinking to assume it was because of you, but you knew it was because of the fact you got to go home a little earlier, as the big rides stop a half an hour earlier than the little rides, shops, and stalls.

With a final wave to Hoseok, you blew him a kiss and sent finger hearts across the park, he caught them all acting cute, and making a big heart over his head. You giggled and turned to the side to see Mark waving his free hand and throwing hearts as well, You smacked him in the stomach, and he laughed leading you out.

“You are going to the doctor, and they will make you all fine and dandy.” Mark sang the strange song through the parking lot to Johnny’s Black sedan. “You are going to the doctor and they will make you feel right as rain, You are going to the doctor and they will make you feel…”

“Fit as a fiddle?”

“Oh, you’re fit already,” he winked. causing you to blush and slap his stomach. “I am beginning to think you hate me, you keep hitting me.”

“You are only now realizing?” You joked running to the car, whilst calling shotgun.

“Hey, that is cheating,” he shouted, chasing after you.

Johnny gave you a ride to the little clinic in your neighborhood, Mark was making jokes the whole time from the back seat finding new ways to say that you would be okay. He had used ‘healthy as a horse’, ‘as good as new’, and ‘a picture of good health’. Each one mad Johnny more, and more annoyed, but he didn’t say anything as he saw how happy it made you. Laughing eased your nerves for your checkup. 

“We are here, do you need anything else?” Johnny smiled softly. “We can wait outside in the parking lot if you need.”

“No really, it’s okay, I will be perfectly fine.” You squared your shoulders feeling kind of silly for all this hassle, you felt perfectly fine now, and you thought maybe they would think you were faking it. 

“Thank you for the ride.” You stepped out of the car, grabbing your bags.

“You have our numbers if you need anything,” You shut the door and had gotten only a few steps before Mark leaned out the window shouting “you forgot your jacket.”

Turning back to the car idling in the no standing zone, you saw Mark waving your jacket out the window with enough veracity like he was single-handedly trying to stop a war and your jacket was the purest white flag. You ran back grabbing your jacket, flashing another grateful smile. These were two of the sweetest boys you had met; they had such gentle natures and loved to take care of others even if they were a little clumsy at it.

One final wave, that reminded you of two parents leaving their child at camp. You turned and strode toward the doctor’s clinic, You dogged every single surface and person within the waiting room, you knew multiple people here were carrying some virus you didn’t want.

The oasis, in the desert, was the reception desk, complete with  hand sensor sanitizer that you immediately utilized. “Good afternoon I am here for my appointment, my name is (Full name).”

“Of course, the doctor had some cancelations, so he is running ahead of time, so you shouldn’t be waiting long.”

Standing off to the side, you were thankful for almost immediately hearing your name called by a familiar white coat figure. You chased after the doctor, you had seen him once or twice before for a few common colds, and viruses’ during the flu seasons.

“Well miss y/n, what brings you here today?”

“A few days ago I started feeling off, I had a blocked nose and kept sneezing. Since then I have been dizzy, a little nauseous, sweaty, not to mention the hormones.” You seemed to plateau for a moment before remembering the ordeal earlier in the day, and fueling your confessions to the doctor “and this morning the smell of coffee almost made me vomit, and my boobs were hurting it’s just been these little things piling up, and I know I am probably just making an issue about nothing, but it’s just not my normal, so I thought I would check.”

“Okay well, I would like you to take this,” he said, handing you a cup, “ and pee in it. Bring it back when you’re done, okay?” He smiled and you went to the bathroom where you peed in the container making sure to close the lid, washing and then drying the outside of the jar.

“This is a urinalysis stick test, each little square will react differently, and tell me different things. Glucose, ph, etc, all that in one little test,” he smiled, taking a stick, dipping it into the cup and waited for a moment before extracting and examining the results against the jar with a small smile. “I had a sneaking suspicion this might be the problem.”

“What is it?” it couldn’t be that easy to determine what was wrong could it? He grinned, at you before cleaning everything up. 

“Congratulations, you are pregnant. So, I will refer you to get some blood tests and even an ultrasound,” You felt like you were about to pass out your stomach feeling heavy with this new weight, and responsibility. He just kept talking, and you felt like the room had become so small, sweat dripping down your neck.

“Oh, are you sure?”

“When was the last time you had a period?” He asked, typing away on the computer.

“Um… Let me check.” Your voice cracked, and you knew you were crying as you tried to open the app. “Um...  five weeks ago?”

“Hey, it’s okay. I am here, you are okay. I have time, let's take a deep breath, and talk about everything, okay?” He rubbed your shoulder, and you nodded sniffling, he offered you some tissues and you tried to pull yourself together.

“So, technically that means you are five weeks pregnant, do you know the conception date at all?” He continued typing away on the computer, and he began taking details. He was talking so softly, reassuring you the whole time. “You must be relieved it isn’t something immediately life-threatening. As your doctor, I must educate you on all aspects as well.ere are some brochures on pregnancy, some on adoption and abortion. I am an unbiased figure, and I will stand by you, whatever your decision.”

He must have noticed your discomfort. “Do you have any family or friends you can talk to? I want to know you have support. If not, there are some support groups in the brochures.” You nodded thinking of your family. It had been a long time since you had seen any of them. Even without them, you had Hoseok, you always had Hoseok.

“Well, it seems you have a good support network. Now let me tell you about your options in a little more detail.”

It was an extensive appointment, and you were given a prescription slip for in the event you didn’t want to go through with everything. You would have to go to the pharmacy and have a long conversation with the nurse who worked there, giving them an extensive amount of information before you could get the prescription filled. It was a daunting thought. “I will give you my card. This is my number if you have any questions.”

You placed all the things into your bag, and began walking when you stopped outside Jin’s bar, it was too early and wasn’t open but you thought you would try anyway. Pulling out your phone you texted Seokjin.

[You: Jin are you at the bar at the moment?] [Jin: Yeah I am just setting up for the night.] [You: Can I come in?] [Jin: You are here?] [Jin: Of course.] [Jin: I love visitors.]

The door swung open, and Seokjin poked his head out with a bright grin, He beckoned you inside before shutting the door. You couldn’t help but burst into tears causing him to shriek, and scope you into his arms.

“My Angel, what is wrong?” He was so concerned. He had never seen you like this before.

He was having a hard time deciphering your words through the fierce sobs that racked your body. He sat you on the bar and held your hands. “Breath okay, slow down your breathing, or you will vomit, or pass out okay? ready? together in, two, three, out, two three, in, two, three, four.”

He watched you settle, and hugged you in his arms just holding you.

“Tell me what happened?” He said, softly rubbing your back.

“I went to the doctor.” You looked up at him with misty eyes, and a watery voice.

“Oh god.” A voice said behind you, and you turned to see Jimin running his hand through his hair. His eyes spilling tears at the sight of you. “Do I need a drink? Please don’t tell me you are dying?”

You laughed holding out your arms, “I wouldn’t be able to handle that.”

“I am not dying.” You sniffed, rubbing his back, “I am pregnant.”

They froze looking at you waiting for the punchline, but the pause went on for far too long and you all just sort of stood there looking around. They obviously didn’t know what to say, if they should congratulate you, or not. “Wah! it’s so awkward.” Seokjin jerked his neck with an audible aish, making you laugh.

“Do we say congratulations?” Jimin said.

“I don’t know, I haven’t decided what I am going to do. I was going to decide tonight.” you breathed softly hand clasped around the prescription slip in your pocket. 

“Hey, take some time to decide one night isn’t enough, this is a big decision,” Seokjin said.

“I’m scared, I haven’t got a job, no boyfriend or partner, and I live in a run-down rented apartment. My diet consists of chicken nuggets for Christ sake!” You buried your face in your hands. 

“I’m scared, I am not responsible enough for this, and the longer I wait with this thing inside me, I will want to keep it,” you cried again. “Because I already want to keep it.”

“So, take some time, think everything over carefully,” Seokjin said, “I am a good cook, I will make something and drop them around okay? We will work together to get you a better job and apartment. We will make sure everything works out. Or, if you decide now isn’t the right time, we are all by your side and will support you whatever you chose.”

“What did Hoseok say?” Jimin asked, and the guilt set in. The two looked at you expectantly, and you knew it was probably the world’s way of saying ‘TELL HOSEOK EVERYTHING!’.

“I haven’t told him,” you bit your lip, your hand crumpled the prescription papers some more.

“Oh, right cause he is at work?”

“No, Because I don’t know if I want to tell him.” You envied the two who had poured themselves a drink before work, and wished you could quell your anxieties.

“Why not, he is your best friend, you tell each other everything, and he would be the best person to support you.” Seokjin was very logical when it came to serious matters. “I don’t think he would be against it, what is holding you back?”

“He is the father,” you blurted the words out, and Seokjin spat his drink across the bar. 

“He is what now? When did you two become a thing?” He dried himself, and you frowned.

“We aren’t. We just were both blind drunk, remember that night? He doesn’t know we had a one night stand, and I would rather he doesn’t find out.”

“Bit hard when the evidence is cooking in your tummy.” Jimin sighed, “I’m gonna have another drink, do you want…” 

Your glare had cut him off, and he giggled, apologizing. Seokjin poured you an orange juice garnishing it with a straw, and a little umbrella.

You all relaxed for a little bit lost in thought as the boys set up tables, Yoongi arrived and grinned, kissing your cheek. “You starting early, doll face?”

“Nope, it’s juice, turns out you can’t drink when you’re pregnant, who knew?” 

“Yeah, I have heard that.” He froze running back to the bar, “You what, when?”

“You remember the last time they were in?” Jin grinned, prepping a few glasses while Jimin crushed up the ice that sometimes froze over during the day. “Turns out Y/n was having more cocktails then what I was mixing.”

“With who?” Everyone turned to him, and his jaw dropped. “No, You and Hoseok finally made a mixtape.”

“What are these euphemisms? Please none of you have kids.” You sighed, and looked around “If anyone asks the father is… Jimin,” You pointed and he fell to the floor laughing.

“I am famously open to all genders, but I am in a relationship,” He sighed.

“Yoongi?” You pointed, and he laughed. 

“Nah, love, you can’t drag me into this mess.” He turned your finger to Jin, who had his arms crossed. 

“Why am I the last resort?” He asked, offended, and you gave a weak smile. 

“Because... it is so unbelievable that you would spend a night with me?” The way your voice rose in pitch didn’t go unnoticed. 

“One, don’t like how that was posed like a question,” his mock tone of annoyance made you bite your lip to keep from laughing. “Two, of course, I would. Kim Seokjin doesn’t discriminate love is love, and I got a lot to share around.” 

“It’s true, that guy really makes you feel loved,” Yoongi hummed, as Seokjin blew him a kiss. 

“Please, while I figure everything out? Please just pretend to be my baby daddy, it’s just if Hoseok asks, or one of you let it slip,” you pleaded. 

“Alright, but if I am playing baby daddy, I’m going to treat this as if it’s real, I am going to be supportive.” He sighed, placing his hands on the bar, and leaning over you. 

“If Hoseok thinks it was me, and I am not around to take care of you, he will beat my ass, so prepare to get fat. I am going to keep you fed until you can decide what you want to do.”

“Man after my own heart,” Yoongi grinned, placing his hand on your back. “You’re going to be a thick baby momma.”

“Aww cute,” Jimin made grabby hands to hug you, and you let him, relishing in the support of your wacky friends. 

Tags: @brbkpop​ @take-u-2-an0ther-w0r1d​ @munchyn​ @unadulteratedlyunique​ @jinhitwhore​

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[raeynbowboi]

Dating Disney: Tangled

So, let’s just rip this bandage off quickly. This movie is not set in Germany. It simply doesn’t fit. The film is set in France. And before you get your torches and pitchforks, allow me to lay out the evidence.

Persinette

In the movie, Rapunzel’s hair has magical properties. Now the problem with that is, Rapunzel in the German version doesn’t have magic hair. But fret not. For there is a version of her story where she does have magic hair. The French story of Persinette, written in 1698 by Charlotte-Rose de Caumont de La Force. In the tale of Persinette, her hair has the magical power to change shape, length, and density at will, allowing her to turn her hair into a shield or wings. The witch was also named Dame Gothelle, which the Brothers Grimm used for their 1812 version.

Corona

The Kingdom of Corona’s design was inspired by Mont Saint Michel, a commune in Normandy, France. Even the name, Corona, comes from Latin for “Crown”. Latin is a Romance Language, just like French. And what is the French word for Crown? C’est Couronne.

The map above shows where Hazelnuts grow in Europe. If Mother Gothel can find them in three days, then she must live in one of the green areas where the common Hazelnuts grow. Originally, I wondered if she might live in a white area near the green border. However, with all of the evidence pointing at Normandy, France, I was willing to argue that they live in Normandy, but that at the time, there are just no wild hazelnuts in her local vicinity. Just because apples can be grown anywhere doesn’t mean they’re growing every 5 feet apart.

Fashion

Rapunzel’s gown takes on a Jane Austen aesthetic, her novels set during the Regency Era of English history from 1811-1820. This is not a guarantee of a period as Mother Gothel could very well be dressing Rapunzel in out of style dresses she’s collected over the centuries.

Mother Gothel’s attire is a combination of a Rohan gown and a girdle belt. While I could not find an exact era when these fashion elements emerged, I could find this image of a 12th century Norman Noblewoman. While it’s not perfectly hard evidence, it’s sufficient. The look is often labeled as a medieval celtic outfit. Although people often associate the Celts with the British Isles, but there were European mainland Celts in Gallo-Roman France. So whether it’s a 12th century Norman dress from medieval France or a celtic dress from Gaul, she’d still be wearing a very old dress that could be found in Normandy, France.

Rapunzel’s parents seem to be wearing 16th century clothes, with her father really channeling Henry VIII who ruled from 1509-1547. Their clothes are almost as out of date as Mother Gothel’s, but it is possible that they’re wearing “traditional national costumes”, as we only see them during important events. Only in formal portraits and when making public appearances, which might encourage them to pull out very old-fashioned costumes. Otherwise, I have no real excuse for their clothes.

Pop Culture

While in the Snuggly Duckling Tavern, one of the patrons mentions Mozart, who started composing music at the age of three in 1759. Because Rapunzel’s dress is a regency gown from the 1810s, Mozart has already died long before her dress would have been made. Even if the dress is old and out of date, Mozart has already impacted the musical world.

Technology

The fact that Flynn Ryder has mass produced wanted posters, this either means that people are hand-drawing every single poster, or they’re being mass produced with the 1439 invention of the printing press. While the noses change between posters, the sheer quantity suggests mass printing, especially the use of colored dyes in the red text. We also see the queen reading a printed book toward the end, which helps support the time period.

The modern shape of the guitar was invented in 1850. However, since Frozen takes place in 1840, and canonically after Tangled in the timeline, this guitar is an anachronism. However, not entirely. There were other guitars. Just not shaped like this. Pictured below Rapunzel is a Baroque Guitar from a 1672 painting. However, if we choose to ignore the cameo of Rapunzel and Eugene in Frozen, then an 1850 time frame is otherwise perfectly logical for this movie.

Rapunzel can be seen reading Beauty and the Beast (1756), Sleeping Beauty (1812) and The Little Mermaid (1837).

Conclusion

All of the evidence is pointing me to declaring definitively that the movie is set in Normandy, France in the year 1850. Much as I’d like to keep the headcanon that Frozen happens after Tangled, the inclusion of the Guitar says otherwise, and her cameo in Frozen is just that: a cameo. Most crossovers and cameos are second tier canon, and I must go by the evidence in the film. If you simply cannot part with that headcanon, the film could take place in 1837. it’s still 3 years before Frozen, and keeps it plausible for Rapunzel to read The Little Mermaid. Otherwise, I have to go with the primary canon of the film and its stand-alone context to decide its time period. Of course, now we run into the problem of the French Revolution because literally every part of this movie is screaming Normandy. Then again, the king and queen are dressed from the 16th century, Eugene’s jerkin is straight out of the 17th, while his white rolled up sleeves are much more modern. Simply put, this movie just takes place Once Upon a Time, and is a bit of a temporal headache. So, I’m just going to say 1850, Normandy, France. Just block out the people screaming “but the revolution” because this movie is kind of a hot mess when it comes to time periods. Honestly, if you have a better suggestion for how to make sense of this movie’s time period or placement, be my guest, cuz this one is a bit of a headscratcher. We can’t even argue that the French Revolution never happened in the Disneyverse because Napoleon was referenced in Beauty and the Beast. So hit me with your own theorizes because your guess is likely as good as mine on this one. This one may end up getting a second post if I find better evidence.

Setting: Corona (Normandy), France Kingdom: Kingdom of Corona Year: “1850″ Period: Victorian Era Language: French

[kurt-nightcrawler]

I’ve got a boyfriend

Request: could you possibly do a warden x reader where she’s like super sweet and innocent (has like nature/healing powers and in this au avengers are there) anyways the Avengers visit the mansion and peter meets reader and is like all heart eyes and she’s super sweet and he mistakes it as she likes him too and then warren returns from a mission or somethin and she’s happy and is like pitching him up and peter realizes and the avengers are like it’s okay kid and warren is all smug and like yeah mine. also with that warren x reader ft. peter request. bc she’s so in tune with nature and herself can her eyes kinda be like a mood ring and shift with her feelings. so it’s like a warm green or yellow for happiness and so peters like yeah she likes me but then when she’s with warren he watches them shift to like a soft pink. like literal heart eyes and warren teasers her a bit (in a good way)

Word Count: 2.3k

Peter swung over to the Avenger’s headquarters on a Saturday. He always did this. 

“What’s on the agenda for today?” He asked Karen.

“Mr. Stark wants you to join the Avengers to Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters.”

“Xavier’s? Where—  What is that?”

“It’s a boarding school in New Salem.” Karen didn’t say anything else, leaving Peter with lots of questions. 

-

“Why are we going to a boarding school? What’s at Xavier’s?”

 Steve and Bucky chuckled at his curiosity.

“This isn’t like any other boarding school… It’s like Area 51.” Tony said.

“Didn’t you buy Area 51?” Bruce asked.

“That’s beside the point. We’re going here to talk to The man himself, Xavier.” 

Peter still had a lot of questions, but he had no idea where to start. Area 51 the boarding school? Is that where Carol’s Kree friend’s kids went to school? Peter took his phone out of his pocket and texted Ned. 

PETER: What is Xavier's school for gifted youngsters?

NED: It’s some boarding school for really smart kids. Trey from Bio tried to get in but didn’t pass the exam. Why?

PETER: Mr. Stark is taking me there. He and a couple of other Avengers are like, visiting or something. Idk.

NED: DUDE! You gotta tell me everything when u get back! I bet there are tons of really hot nerd girls there!!

Peter snorted to himself. Of course, Ned would think of girls. 

But there was some truth in his statement. There probably would be tons of smart girls there. But Tony described it as Area 51… 

NED: If you can get a girl’s number from Xaiver’s we’d be super cool. 

PETER: Yeah. But Mr. Stark called it Area 51 the school. What if it’s full of aliens?

NED: Okay? And? Technically Princess Leia is an alien. 

PETER: She’s also fictional.

NED: And? You’re seventeen and never been kissed before. You don’t have room to be picky.

PETER: You’ve never been kissed either!! 

NED: Shhhhhhh This is about u, not me

PETER: *eye roll emoji*

Peter turned his phone off and gazed out the window. He saw trees. The trees eventually started to die down and the car slowed down. They came to a set of gates and a sign that said Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters.

Once entering through the gates, Tony drove around and parked the car. Peter could see glimpses of the school grounds. He saw a few students and at first glance, they didn’t look like aliens. But Kree could shapeshift. Maybe they just shifted to blend in. 

Then he saw a kid with a tail.

Maybe not. “I thought this was a school for aliens.”

Everyone stared at him blankly. 

“Aliens?! Kid, we didn’t mean that literally. When I said Area 51, I meant it’s kinda secret. Not that it’s full of aliens.” 

“Oh.” Peter felt rather foolish. “So it’s just a normal boarding school?” 

“No.” Bucky slammed the car door shut. “It’s a school for mutants.” 

“Mutants? But like, I thought they were kind of a myth. I mean besides Magento and Mystique, but they were around in like, the 70s.”

“And they’re still around. Let’s hope Erik isn’t here. I don’t want any trouble like last time.” Steve said the last part while staring Tony down. 

“It’s not my fault he can control metal and I’m Iron Man!” 

Peter was super confused. Didn’t Magento try to kill the president? Was he evil?

Bucky killed a president, but he’s not inherently evil. I need to give Magento a chance. I need to give everyone at the school a chance. Maybe make some new friends— flex on Flash that my girlfriend has superpowers or something. Wouldn’t that be hilarious?

They walked up a few stairs out front and opened the doors leading inside. 

-

“Oh wow. Wow.” The building was old looking but had a few modern touches here and there. Every room was bustling with people— mutants, going about their lives. 

Peter saw all kinds of mutants and he had only been inside for a few minutes! 

“Oh wow, Mr. Stark… Where’s uh… Professor… Professor... uh—“

“Professor Xavier’s in his office.” 

The Avengers turned to look at the speaker. She had vines wrapped around her legs and arms, along with some flowers and leaves scattered in her hair, and her eyes were a bright yellow color. 

“Thanks, kid. We know where his office is.” 

She nodded, “No problem.” 

Tony glanced at Peter’s slightly pink cheeks and back at the plant girl. “Do you wanna come with us or are you sticking with Mother Nature?” 

“I can show you around if you want.” Everyone looked at Peter, anticipating an answer. 

“Yeah, sure. I’ll catch up with you guys later.” 

“Alright, have fun. And don’t forget to be safe!” 

Peter blushed again, trying to ignore Tony’s teasing remarks, already figuring out he liked the plant girl. 

-

“My name is (Y/N) by the way.” 

“(Y/N), Hi. I’m Peter. Peter Parker.” 

She smiled, “What’s your mutation, Peter Parker?” 

“Oh um, I don’t— well it’s not a mutation, but, when I was fourteen I got bit by a radioactive spider and I got spider abilities.” 

“Spider abilities?”

He nodded, “I’m uh, really strong and I stick to things. Plus I have this like weird sixth sense sort of, like a spider-sense.” 

“You’re strong and sticky?” Peter nodded, a little flustered. (Y/N) laughed. Peter laughed with her. “I’m sorry, but that’s a hilarious description.” 

“I mean— yeah, yeah… What can you do?”

“Oh! I’m really in tune with nature. I can manipulate plants, and my eyes change color based on my mood. Red is angry, blue is calm, green is happy, yellow is excited— there’s more, but those are the most common.” 

Her eyes are green and yellow right now. That means she’s happy and excited— they haven’t changed since we met. Maybe she’s into me. Oh my god! What if she’s into me? She might be into me. Play it cool Pete, play it cool. “That’s really neat!”

(Y/N) nodded, “Yeah. It’s fun, I guess. Kinda annoying sometimes but nothing awful.” 

“I know what you mean. One time my algebra textbook got stuck to my arm and it wouldn’t come off. I had to like, sleep and shower with it on all day.” (Y/N) laughed at Peter’s retelling of his sticky situation. 

“That must have sucked!”

“It did. Eventually, I got it to come off, but it was annoying to sleep with.” 

“Oh god, I can imagine. Sometimes I fall asleep and a fully grown watermelon or pumpkin is next to me in bed.” 

Peter almost snorted, but he held it back. “Free food, I guess.” 

“Yeah— a nice perk.” 

-

The two wandered aimlessly around the mansion, talking about everything— freshman, classes at their schools, hobbies, friends— everything. 

Peter was going to ask for her number. Maybe ask to see her outside of the mansion. Possibly on a date… If he wasn’t too nervous.

“Could I… get your number?” Peter held his phone in his hands tightly.

“Yeah! Yeah, totally!” (Y/N) recited her number while Peter typed it in his contacts. He shot her a message. 

“I texted you. So you have my number now.” 

“Cool thanks.” Peter felt his phone vibrate in his hands and he glanced down at it.

Mr. Stark: How’s it going with Mother Nature?

Peter: Great! I got her number. I might try to ask her out on a date. Will I be free on Friday?

Mr. Stark: You don’t usually come over on Fridays.

Peter mentally shrugged. Tony was right, Peter usually didn’t go to the Avengers HQ on Fridays. 

Mr. Stark: We’re gonna be leaving soon. I’ll let you know when.

Peter: Ok

(Y/N) was also on her phone. “Sorry! Mr. Stark texted me. I don’t want you to feel like I’m ignoring you or anything.”

“You’re fine. Jubilee was just messaging me.”

“About what?” 

Her focus went back to the screen. She gasped. “Oh my god! We have to go downstairs, come on!” (Y/N) grabbed Peter’s hand and sprinted down the halls. 

“Where are we going?” He asked.

“The Jet hanger downstairs. They’re back!” 

Peter frowned and furrowed his brows as they went down the stairs. “Who’s back?”

“The X-Men.” 

-

Peter was about 99% sure he shouldn’t have been downstairs. If the school had a level of secrecy to it, why would he be allowed to know all this stuff? To see the X-Men and their jet and training room and everything.

Then again, he was an Avenger.

(Y/N) and Peter weren’t the only ones in the hanger watching the black jet land. Professor Xavier and the other Avengers were there, along with a few other students Peter didn’t recognize. 

The jet doors opened and people started walking out. The first one was a young guy, no older than Peter, with brown hair, a blue suit, and a red visor on. Next was a blonde woman in a white bodysuit that was styled almost like a dress. She looked familiar, but Peter couldn’t remember why. Wit the blonde woman was a big, furry, blue man. He had on a suit similar to the boy from before, minus the visor. Finally, two more boys came out. One had silver hair, goggles, and his suit was a metallic ice blue with a white lightning bolt on it. 

The last guy had lines all over his face and giant, metal, wings. 

Peter turned to (Y/N) to ask who everyone was, but she was gone. 

“WARREN!” She engulfed the winged boy in a bone-crushing hug. 

Peter squinted his eyes a little in confusion. (Y/N) didn’t mention a Warren. Who was Warren? A friend? Her brother maybe even?

“Hey, baby. I missed you.” Warren placed a kiss on (Y/N)’s forehead. 

“Aww no love for me?” The silver-haired guy whined.

“Piss off Pete.” (Y/N) laughed. 

“By the way! There’s someone I want you guys to meet… This is Peter, and he’s an Avenger.”

“You’re an Avenger? My sister is an Avenger! Wanda, you know her—“

“Yeah, Wanda is really nice.” Peter was trying to take both the guys in and figure out (Y/N)’s relationship with the blonde.

Then Peter noticed it. Her eye color. It hadn’t changed all day, she was happy and excited to meet Peter. He thought maybe she was into him— but now…

Her eyes were pink. What does pink mean? 

“And this is my boyfriend, Warren.” 

Peter felt his heart drop, or maybe break. He wasn’t sure, but he felt his world get flipped upside down. (Y/N) has a boyfriend?! 

“Nice to meet you.” Warren and Peter shook hands. He tried not to seem too dazed. 

“You too… (Y/N) didn’t say she had a boyfriend…” Peter noticed the silver Peter was gone but didn’t press on the matter.

“Oh?” Warren rose his eyebrows and looked at (Y/N). “Trying to keep me all to yourself?” He teased.

“Maybe… You don’t know…” Warren chuckled and kissed the top of her head again. 

“Hey, Angel! We’re gonna do a write up with Beast and shower.” 

Warren rolled his eyes, “I’ll join you later Cyclops.”

“Mystique said now.” 

Warren huffed, “I’ll be back in like an hour, baby.” He pecked her lips before leaving. “Nice to meet you, Peter.”

 “You too…?”

Tony and the others walked over to Peter and (Y/N). “How’d you like the school, kid?”

“It was really cool. I like it here. It’s almost like a college campus or something.” Peter was still too focused on the fact (Y/N) had a boyfriend. A really cool, attractive, powerful, mutant, boyfriend. Peter couldn’t compete even if he wanted to!

-

Everyone walked back to the main entrance room. Peter walked slightly behind the group. (Y/N) asked Bucky questions about his arm. “Does it weigh a lot? Warren’s wings do. His posture isn’t great because of them.” 

Mr. Stark walked slowly to meet up with Peter’s pace. 

“Why’re you down? Sad we’re leaving?”

“No,” Peter mumbled. “It’s not important.” 

“Did someone say something to you? (Y/N)’s boyfriend? I can kill him if you want. I know his dad.” 

“I just… I didn’t know, (Y/N) had a boyfriend. I thought maybe she was into me, I guess. Most girls don’t like me and she said her eye color changes based on her mood and she was excited the whole time we hung out, but I guess it’s like that for everyone.”

Tony put his hand on Peter’s shoulder in an attempt to comfort him. “I’m sorry, Peter… There’ll be other girls though.”

He nodded, “Yeah, yeah. I’ll be fine. Just kinda sucks.” 

“I get it.”

-

“I’m gonna bake some brownies. I know Warren and Peter really like them and they’re probably hungry. Do you want to stay and have some?”

“Thank you for the offer, (Y/N),” Steve said. “But we really have to get going.”

She shrugged a little. “Alright, maybe next time. It was so great to meet all of you! You’re all really cool. Tell Wanda, Peter said hi.” 

“Will do.” 

They were all about to get in the car and go. 

“Bye Peter! I had a lot of fun today. If you’re ever in the area text me. We should really hang out sometime.” (Y/N) hugged him, and Peter hugged back, trying not to seem sweaty due to nerves.

“Yeah, definitely… Bye.”

The Avengers got in the car and drove away.

-

“I love you, but sometimes you’re a little oblivious.”

“Am not!” (Y/N) scolded her boyfriend. 

“Peter was definitely into you. He almost passed out when you said I was your boyfriend.”

(Y/N) poured flour into a bowl starting her brownies, “He was probably just intimidated by your wings.” Peter doesn’t like me… Right?

Warren kissed the top of her head before walking over to the fridge to get a drink. “You’re cute when in denial.” 

“Shut up!” She joked.

[justreadingfics]

Looking For a Heartbeat (17/?)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X Reader

Series Summary: You and Bucky used to be in a relationship. Feelings were hurt, you left.  It’s been two years and you’re back. You both will handle the reunion well, won’t you?

Chapter Summary: New bonds.  

Word Count: 5,2K

Warnings for this chapter: fluff again (don’t get used to it), children, mutual pining.  

 A/N: @suz-123 is my angel and I love her. Here I am writing fluff again. I suspect this is why I’ve taken longer than most times to write this chapter, lol. I can’t wait to hear your thoughts.  Links are ruining posts, you can find the masterlist link on my description.

 It´s been four weeks since Bucky has shown up unannounced to the ultrasound appointment- that he discovered by himself after some private research, he told you- and you still can’t shake off a stupid smile from your face.  Without a doubt, these have been the best weeks of your pregnancy so far. Everything seems to be great with the baby, who, according to Doctor Nadine and her team, is healthier than normal, developing better than expected. It seems to be so because the serum Hydra has used on Bucky altered his genetics system and its goodies have passed to the baby.

Bucky has been present in all of the appointments, right at your side the entire time, listening carefully and asking every single question he had.  His presence, soothing and grounding, keeping you steady throughout the whole thing. You know he had been worried to death about the possibility of being responsible for any complications to the baby. The news that everything was ok was a huge relief for him too, despite you still sensing in him a deep worry about how the enhancement on its system would affect the baby's life in general.  A concern you both share.

However, for now, you both have been trying to stay positive and focusing on finding a pace – the right one- to reconnect and shape your relationship as parents of your child. Aside from the appointments and some occasional times he drops by to see how’s everything with you and the peanut, you have also been talking on the phone, whether through voice calls or text messages.  Not a day goes by without you talking to each other.

You’re not gonna lie, it still feels awkward at times. You’ve never been friends to Bucky. Before your intense and passionate relationship, you two were nothing but acquainted co-workers. And after that, you’re not sure what the two of you have become. Now, on top of that, it’s not like you two can just turn into friends. You’re going to have a kid together, for God's sake. Yeah, it’s still awkward.

The conversations have been centered exclusively on the baby and anything that concerns them. That's why you don’t know if something has changed between him and Anna, if they have talked or anything. You prefer it that way. It’s a sensitive topic to him, but it’s the same for you. You’ve taken the part of trying and being the bigger person, saying you didn't blame her, that you understood her point of view, giving him advice about his relationship with her… and it was in good nature, but… thinking about him and her together has never been easy and you suspect it never will be.

Oh, well… It's hard. Something you should discuss more with Heloise in therapy. She gave you a strawberry lollipop saying it was positive reinforcement for your civilized conversation with Bucky. You wonder what she would have in store for you when you truly become able to talk about and live through the jealousy that takes over you every time a thought of him and Anna together pops into your mind. 

You continued going to the support group encounters, you feel like you’re not completely alone anymore, but the group, giving justice to its name, has truly become an important support system for you. Plus, it’s an easy way for you to see Harry regularly, who was pleased to know about things taking a turn to a better path with you and Bucky. You and Harry ended up going to the Hot-Dog trailer next to the group’s place - the one you missed because of the car accident - and then you scheduled for you to finally meet his kids, which you were excited and anxious about, you had heard so much about them you felt like you already knew each one of his little chipmunks, like he called them affectionately.  

You had planned for a picnic in their favorite park, but the rainy day forced you to move the party over to the common room at the Tower’s living quarters. Wanda has helped you set everything up, moving the furniture to place the big cloth in the center of the room, spreading pillows to accommodate everyone as you prepared the snacks with all the goodies Harry had told you the kids liked. You also put some toys and games for the kids – and for the adults, who are you kidding? You live amongst children.

That’s where you are now, along with Harry and the vivacious Luna and Jon, the three year olds that make sure to remind you every five minutes that they are turning four in a week. Luna is the spitting image of her father with her dark curls falling graciously over her big brown eyes laced with curiosity as she keeps them glued on you. Jon must’ve taken his looks from his mother, with a lighter tone on his straight short hair and his eyes are green with shades of blue. He seems quieter than Luna, who takes the lead and asks all the questions and tells all the stories, allowing her brother to make a comment or two. In his shyness, he reminds you of his father.

Wanda joins you, and soon so do Steve and Sam, who had arrived from a mission the day before. Tony’s absent on a solo mission of his own, much to the kids' disappointment, which is reinforced by the Iron Man images on both of their shirts. Crazy for kids as much as she is, Nat is there, but she has mostly been giving you the silent treatment lately, as a result of your decision of making the baby’s sex a secret. You can only wonder what she’s been putting Bucky into.

You keep a huge smile on your face as, right in front of you, across the picnic cloth, Wanda uses her powers and the red mist to make moving drawings in the air, prompted by all sorts of excited and loud requests from the kids, whether it’s a dog, a sheep- no, a bigger sheep, an elephant, Iron Man fighting that big purple monster, or daddy with those colored swords he likes…

“They’re called lightsabers. God, how many times do I have to tell you this, guys? Show some respect…” He sighs at your side, looking at you and shaking his head in frustration as he’s completely ignored by his kids, who keep the row of requests to Wanda. 

You chuckle; prompting him to smile at you, “They’re really awesome,” you whisper, bumping his sides with your elbow, as everyone else around the cloth seems drawn by the kids energy and interested in Wanda’s little performance.

“They are, aren’t they?” He beams at you, “Thanks for this by the way, they’re having so much fun.”

“Oh, no. I’ve been wanting to meet them for so long,” You dismiss him with a wave, before grabbing a handful of popcorn. Chewing on it, you cackle at Wanda’s latest art:  a Chihuahua pulling The Falcon by the wings while Captain America tries to catch them. Sam shots some protests, but the burst of belly laughs from the kids is undeniably contagious.

When you look back at Harry, you’re still laughing as the others, but he is not. Instead, he’s observing you while holding a half smile on his lips, “What?” You frown at him.

“You look happier. I like it. It’s a great look on you.”

You offer him a wide grin as you feel a wave of warmth overcoming your chest… and rushing to your cheeks.

“Daddy,” the high-pitched, but sweet voice makes you both turn to Luna, now directing her narrowed eyes and full attention to both of you as she stands on her knees over the pillow.

“Yes, chipmunk?” He says, bringing a plastic cup of orange juice to his mouth. 

“Is Y/N the girl you’ve been talking to on your phone all the time and then stay with that funny smile on your face and does like this?” She exaggerates a deep and long sigh to show what she’s talking about.

Harry chokes on the juice, as all eyes snap to the direction where you two are seated. Wanda hides a laugh with her hand and Nat sips on her coffee, but you glimpse the devilish smirk on her lips. Sam and Steve pretend to focus on the little checkers board they’ve been playing with when you glance at them.   

“Luna!” Harry shrieks, trying to glare at the little girl between coughs.

You frown at his embarrassment, a disproportionate reaction on your opinion.

“What? What have I said wrong?” Luna pouts adorably and stands on her feet, crossing her arms in front of her little body.

“Daddy didn’t want us to know, yet, Luna.” Little Jon whispers loudly, pulling the hem of his sister’s shirt.

Wanda laughs fully and loudly while Nat sports a proud smirk at the two siblings, probably pleased by the spying skills the kids are showing.

“Jon!” Harry exasperates, eyes roaming around everyone in the circle, before turning to you, dumbfounded and red as a pepper, “That’s not-this isn’t-”

“Calm down, Harry.” You laugh, placing a hand on his shoulder.

You’re sure you’re not the girl the kids are referring to, that’s not what your relationship with Harry is about, but he hasn’t told you anything about someone that makes him sigh and now you’re curious, especially because he’s acting like a deer caught in the headlights. Before you can torture him with teasing you hear someone cleaning their throat, catching your look. 

Bucky stands by the door, with a bag in his hands and an unreadable expression on his face.

“Bucky,” you exclaim, feeling the inevitable tug at the corner of your lips, but trying to ignore your heart skipping a beat. How long has he been there? Has he heard anything? As happy as you are to see him, you can’t help the hint of apprehension at the  pit of your stomach that makes your heart falter, you know he still has reservations towards Harry and you really don’t want him to assume anything, which is bullshit, of course, you and Bucky have nothing and if you wanted you could date whoever, of course, that’s definitely settled between the two of you. Was the room this hot before?  

Bucky nods timidly at you and at the others, who chant their greetings all at once:  “Hey, Buck,” “Hey, Man,” “Barnes”. 

“Come on in, we ́re having a picnic,” You wave him in from your spot, swallowing down any trepidation and kicking the inner rambling off of your mind, focusing on his presence only.

“Oh no, it's ok. I can come another time,” He answers in a small voice. Recoiling his shoulders, he presses his lips in a tense line. 

The protests from everybody – except from Harry, who seems to be trying to make himself invisible at your side- resound around the place while the kids fasten their curious eyes on the new person in the room.

Knowing damn well how uncomfortable Bucky is capable of feeling when he’s in the spotlight, you raise your brows at Wanda, which is enough to make her promptly go back to entertaining the kids, now lifting the food over the cloth to the air. The sounds of bewilderment coming from the tiny little creatures distract everyone else as you get up, using the sofa behind you as a support for your growing body.

“Come on, Barnes, you made a pregnant woman get up from the floor just to drag you by the ear. I’m a mom now, I can do that,” You taunt, getting closer to him, twisting your expression into a mocked scowl.

Letting out a heart-fluttering smile that ignites one of your own, he relents, stepping into the room and shooting that fondly look at your growing belly, like he does every time he sees you.

“Hi,” you softly say when he stands inches from you.

“Hey, I called you a couple of times, and you didn't answer my messages, I got worried,” He cringes.

“I must’ve left my phone in my room, but it's ok, Bucky, you don't need an excuse to drop by,” You assure in a teasing manner, before your eyes drop to the bag in his hand, “What do we have here?”

“Oh, on my way over, I saw this and I couldn't help it.” With a broad smile on his face, he pulls the object from the bag.

Your eyes go round and you practically squeal, grabbing the little colorful unicorn, “This is amazing, Bucky, so damn cute. And fluffy.” You squeeze the soft little stuffy against your chest.

He chuckles, brushing a lock of his own hair behind his ear, “I bought it for the peanut, but I suppose you can play with it, too.”

You roll your eyes and pull your tongue out playfully.

“Hello.”

At the tiny voice who takes you and him out of your little bubble, you see his eyes going comically round, before he lowers his head to follow the sound. Luna stands beside him, with her hands laced behind her back and mischievous interest plastered on her sweet features.  

“Hi.” His stumpy answer is a bit more than a whisper.

“I’m Luna,” the girl says her name proudly to him, “I’ll be four years old in a week. What’s your name?”

“Bucky.” He replies shortly.

As little Jon runs to stand beside his sister, you choose to remain a silent observant of the scene with great curiosity, and from the corner of your eyes you catch the rest of the adults in the room doing the exact same thing. 

“This is Jon. He's my brother.”

“We’re twins,” Jon announces.

“But I’m older,” Luna reminds him.

“And that’s daddy.” The boy points at Harry, who quickly and shamelessly looks up to the ceiling, trying to cover up the fact he’s been watching them.

“Ok.” Bucky purses his lips and nods, seeming ready to bolt away from the interaction.

In fact, you can’t recall having seen him talking to a kid before, except for maybe Clint’s and Scott’s kids, but he always preferred to remain at least one arm’s length away from them. You know this has everything to do with the fact he still struggles to think children would want anything to do with him...   

“Your hand is shiny.” Luna states straightforwardly. 

As you feel Bucky freezing beside you decide to step in, but probably not in the way he would want you to, “His whole arm is shiny, Luna.” You whisper, leaning down and half covering your mouth like you were telling her a secret. You choose to ignore the betrayed look you receive from Bucky.  

The information makes the little girl gasp and stare longingly at said arm, covered by the long sleeve of his Henley.

“Oh, you ́re the Winter Soldier,” Jon yells, pointing at Bucky with astonishment  as  his jaw drops.

The nickname Bucky used to dread so much, but which in time - as he formed his name as an avenger - got a different and more positive meaning to everyone else, sounds nothing but adorable in the kid’s soft voice when said in such an enthusiastic way. It doesn’t go unnoticed by you the phantom of a smile that threatens to curl Bucky's lips.

“Oooo, I know you,” Luna grins, bouncing on her little legs, “You're Captain America ́s boyfriend.”

 “Oh, my God! Luna!” Harry mortified attempt of reprimanding his daughter is muffled by the thunder of loud laughs filling the room, including one of your own.  Horror twists Harry’s features as Bucky and Steve share widened staggered looks.

“Don ́t laugh,” Luna turns to the party, putting her hands on each side of her waist and stomping her little foot to the ground as the laughs are swiftly held back at the respect the small figure imposes, “Daddy said it’s ok that boys date. And girls, too.” Her features turn into a scowl.

You glance at Harry and you glimpse the pride which his daughter’s words brings to his expression being swiftly replaced by apprehension when he spots Steve.

“And your daddy is right,” Steve straightens up his posture for Harry’s relief and then putting on his Captain voice, he turns to Luna again, “But Bucky and I are not boyfriends, we’re buddies.”

You think Sam will explode when he puts his hand over his mouth to hold back the laugh even harder.

“Maybe it's a secret, Luna. Just like dad ́s.” Jon innocently shrugs and that's what kills everybody’s strong will and the sound of multiple laughs bubbles into the room again.

Even Bucky has given in and sports a small but beautiful smile on his face as his head shakes slowly and warm heartedly. You smile right back at him when your eyes meet and you notice how much more at ease he seems.

“Aright, alright. You two get back here.” Harry commands.

“Ok,” Luna answers and starts to move towards the party again, but not before she laces her chubby little hand with Bucky’s metal one to pull him with her, being followed close by her brother.

When he looks back at you, being pulled by the girl, there’s no plea for help or embarrassment on his face; he only keeps smiling and shrugs. Your stomach flutters inside you as you take a deep breath in. 

Luna makes Bucky sit in the middle of her and Jon, as you sit where you were before, beside Harry, placing the little unicorn between you and him. Everyone catches on conversations or eating and drinking.

“Oh, Bucky. Have you met Harry, already?” You ask, trying to act cool, especially about the fact he has seen him before at Steve’s party and not mentioning all the times Bucky has asked you about your relationship with Harry.

“Hey,” Bucky nods and extends a hand, leaning over to catch Harry’s from across the cloth, “We’ve seen each other before, but I think we haven’t been introduced yet.” He says, pressing his lips in a polite smile.

“Hi, yeah, that’s right,” Harry answers in a matching polite tone, “It’s such a pleasure, I’m a huge fan, of course. I’m sorry for my chipmunks-”

“Ugh, daddy.” Luna, huffs.

Before any of the grown-ups could add anything else both the kids launch on Bucky. Leave it to kids to dissipate any kind of awkward situations… 

“Is your arm heavy?” Luna leans on Bucky’s shoulder, resting her chin over her hands there.

“A bit, yes.”

“Are you strong, Mr. Bucky?” This time Jon asks from Bucky’s other side.

“Of course I am.”

“Stronger than him?” Luna cocks her head towards Steve, who snaps his look up from the checkers board.

“Sure, he’s all jacked now, but deep down he’s nothing but a skinny little angry man…”

The super soldiers make a face to each other and you chuckle.

“What about him?” Jon points at Sam.

“Kids, please…” Bucky’s eyes roll as he lets out a smug snort.

“You wish, tin can,” Sam shots a handful of pop-corn on his direction.

“And them?” Luna points at Wanda and Nat.

“Well…”

Attentive to the scene so far, you spot the red mist Wanda casually pours from her elegant hands as Nat cracks her fingers, staring blankly at Bucky.

“Definitely not.” He turns widened eyes at Luna, enticing a little giggle to come out of her lips and a laugh of you.  

“You’re not stronger than Iron Man.” Jon affirms, rather than ask.

“Hey!” Bucky playfully yelps, as the boy places his little hand on his chin, furrowing his eyebrows as if he’s concentrating real hard to come up with Bucky’s next challenger.

“Oh! Are you stronger than daddy?” He finally yells, partnering up with his sister as the two people who made her father choke on his juice that day. 

“Ahm… I don’t know-I,” Bucky fumbles with his answer as Harry keeps struggling for air.

“I know how we can find out,” Luna swiftly raises her hand, looking excitedly at Jon.

You pat Harry’s back as he coughs harder.

“Daddy can lift me and Jon on each arm, I bet you can’t.” She cocks a daring eyebrow at Bucky as Jon eagerly nods his head and gets up.

“Oh, yeah?” Bucky raises his eyebrow back at her, before turning his eyes at Harry asking for permission, which is granted with a nod and a smile. Now that the latter knows Luna’s idea doesn’t involve him getting his ass kicked he seems a lot more relaxed.

Then, with an exaggerated grunt, Bucky grabs and lifts the two little creatures by their feet using only his metal hand. The squeaks and giggles bubbling out of their lungs mingle with Bucky’s groans as he tosses the twins around as if they weigh nothing.

“Who’s the strongest person in this room, huh?” He challenges, as he holds them by their behinds and presses them into the air as a couple of dumbbells in each hand. 

“You, Mr. Bucky,” They both yell in unison between little screams and loud giggles.

Your heart melts and the smile on your face is wide when you realize that, just like that, he also becomes their favorite person in the room. You totally get it, who can be better judges of character than kids? Besides, falling in love with Bucky is that easy and inevitable, you're one to talk...

The kids keep themselves glued on Bucky’s side all the time, asking questions, proposing games that he promptly accepts, offering him food, telling him stories about themselves and about their father – to Harry’s very dismay… They even get him to show them part of his arm, gaining claps of admiration from Luna.

At some point you reach for the jar of juice to find it empty, but before you even think of standing up to go grab some more, you feel the jar being promptly stolen from your hand.

“I got this,” Bucky winks, getting up, as Sam and Nat finally get a bit of the kids attention, doing some magic trick with a few cards for them as Harry watches.

“It’s ok, Bucky-”

“Na-ha. You stay comfortably there.” He gets up, glaring at you to show he means business.

You let out an annoyed huff – only a stunt to hide how you’re secretly loving the attention coming from him. Wanda calls on your bullshit aiming you a teasing smile that you choose to not indulge.

“Steve, get your lazy ass here and help,” Bucky calls, walking inside the kitchen, as the kids giggle at his choice of words.

~~~

Bucky places the jar on the sink and, before he could walk to the fridge to grab more oranges to squeeze, a wall of enhanced muscles captures him in an impossibly tight hug.

“Ugh, what’s that for, punk?” He grunts, but promptly hugs his friend back.

“You’re gonna be a dad,” Steve croaks out.  

Bucky lets out  a quiet laughter. He hadn’t seen Steve yet, not after the ultrasound when Bucky’s real feelings towards the news became clear. He guesses his friend wasn’t really sure of what his decision would be to actually congratulate him and express his emotions about it before, “And you're gonna be an uncle.” Bucky beams.

Steve only whimpers and tightens the hold around his friend.  

“Alright, alright,” Bucky pats his back and let goes. “This is why everybody thinks we're a couple.” He adds, without taking the smile off his face.

Steve chuckles and shakes Bucky by his shoulder, with his eyes clearly red, the Captain wipes a tear with the back of his hand “You deserve this,'' he says.

No more words need to be said as Bucky’s smile falls but his eyes remain soft and he only nods as an answer. The two friends exchange meaningful and watery gazes before they move to go grabbing the oranges and the necessary utensils, forming a team side by side by the sink to slice the fruits and squeeze the juice using the squeezer. 

“I know Y/N has banned you from telling anyone what you two are having, but you won't deny this information to your oldest pal here, are you?” Steve nudges Bucky as he slices the oranges.

“By the image on the screen, it sure looked like a kid.” Bucky keeps squeezing the oranges, unaffected.

“Ah, come on, Buck.”

“Not a chance, pal. If I didn´t give in to Nat, you won’t make me talk, either.” He turns to Steve, “And stop with the damn puppy eyes, you’ll have to wait, like everyone else.”

“Spoilsport,” Steve grunts his displeasure of being kept in the shadows about the baby’s sex before the smile comes back to his face, “You´re happy, aren´t you?” He softly asked after taking a good look at his friend.

“Like I’ve never thought I would be. Not even back in our days. It’s funny…” Bucky’s eyebrows furrow as a small breathy laugh comes out of his lips, “A couple of days ago I had no idea this kind of feeling, this sweet agonizing happiness, existed. Now it’s all I feel, all the time.”

“Sounds intense,” Steve chuckles, clearly pleased, “You and Y/N? What’s the deal with the two of you now?”

Bucky clears his throat and bites the insides of his cheeks, “We agreed we should focus on the baby. Let go of what happened before in the past.” He keeps his eye focused on the task of squeezing oranges.

“Oh…and how ́s that working out for you?”

“Good”

Steve stops what he’s doing altogether and turns to face Bucky, placing the hand holding the knife on his side, “Are you lying? Is this something we do now? Lie to each other?” He waves the knife on the space between them, “You couldn’t even be around her before, it can ́t be changed all of a sudden.”

Bucky shakes his head as he huffs. The damn punk…  “It’s… I don´t know,” He turns to face Steve as well, “A mix of heaven and hell. Fighting with her was easier, to be honest.” He snickers, “I could handle that. And now, we talk, actually talk without fighting or anything… I get to be around her without jumping on each other’s throat and now I can really, really see her. She’s still her but, I don’t know…different,” He turns back to the sink, grabbing another half orange to squeeze as he talks, “She seems more content, level headed, elegant…” He sighs, “She looks even more beautiful each day that passes… fucking sexier…” His whisper is barely audible as his eyelids close for a moment, “It must be the pregnancy, I don ́t know, haven't you noticed it?” He looks back at Steve to find the latter holding back a smile.

“Seems the same good old Y/N for me,” Steve shrugs, “Maybe a little more… joyful?” He asks himself, “Yeah, but what do I know, I ́m not in love with her.” He resumes slicing the oranges, acting nonchalantly.

“Stop it.” Bucky glares at him.

Steve throws his arms to the air and scrunches up his chin as a sign of resignation.

After a few moments more of silence as they work together, Bucky briskly stops and turns to his friend again, “It's just, it's complicated,” His eyes shut as he scratches his eyebrow, “With the baby, and all.” He sighs, looking down, “I don´t wanna ruin the peace we’re finally achieving between us by trying again with her, but God…” He looks up to the ceiling before and his eyes close before he looks down at Steve, who has stopped his work to pay attention on the man beside him, “I have to physically restrain myself from kissing the fuck out of her every time I lay my eyes on her, every time she comes closer and I smell her perfume...goddammit…” He confesses for the first time out loud, before turning to the sink to lean his hands on the marble taking in a deep breath, “She said we didn ́t work as a couple, and she’s right, isn’t she…” He murmurs.  

Steve places a kind hand on his shoulder, “I know the way it ended was rough and then everything else that happened after that, but everyone could see how you two loved each other, Bucky…” He softly says as Bucky remains silent, staring down, “And I don ́t know, you both seem like growing from the place you’ve been, when you’ve hurt each other…”

Silence lingers between them as Bucky feels his jaw clenching. He loves you. Of course he does, he always has and everything he did to try and deny this only resulted in pain.  And that’s what scares the shit out of him. He knows you two agreed on trying to not focus on each other as anything more than parents, and as much as he agreed on it, the all-consuming love he feels for you only grows each day he stays at your side, each time he talks to you and he watches you becoming the mother of his child…

Fuck, he doesn’t want to ruin everything. Not again.  

“Buck, everything will be alright, I’m sure,” Steve seems to hear his thoughts as he tries to comfort him.

Bucky forces a smile at his effort and squeezes the last orange, before wiping his hand with a knapping hung on the wall. Giggles coming from the living room catches their attention.

“Do you think there's something there,” Bucky tentatively asks, eyes stuck on the door that leads to the living room, “With Harry, I mean.” He clarifies in a low voice, when his eyes meet Steve’s.  

Steve sighs before shrugging, his forehead creasing, “They seem close.”            

Bucky nods slowly, worrying his lower lip between his teeth, “I heard his little girl,  Luna, asking if Y/N was the girl he’s been-” He sulks down a harsh intake of breath, “I wouldn't blame him…” His lips form a taut line.

When Steve presents him with silence and something that resembles empathy in his eyes for him – old Steve Rogers’s style- Bucky clears his throat and moves to pour the juice on the Jar.

“Come on, I’m gonna say goodbye to them, I have to go.” He adds, turning  towards the door with the Jar in his hand.

“Where to?” Steve cocks his head, narrowing his eyes.

“I’m gonna meet Anna in a few.” Bucky mutters as his shoulders round downwards, “I called her yesterday.”

“Oh.”

“You think I shouldn’t.” Bucky states.  

“No, not at all.” Steve shakes his head. “I just wasn’t expecting to hear this now after-” Steve licks his lips and nods once, “I do think you should talk to her, though, Bucky. Set things straight. I know how important she’s been to you and I know it hurts you how things played out between the two of you. Now that you cleared your head a bit, maybe it’s the right time to really listen to her and tell her how you feel, too.”

Steve… always the voice of reason. Of his reason.

“I know.” Bucky nods. He needs to set things straight once and for all.  

~~~

Chapter 18 coming soon.