#And now he's like this...tiny figurine that just came to life and captured my heart

[glitchtricks94]

I might just straight up revert back to writing Fixation, Gyokko's a fucking BITCH to write for but I still wanna press on with his fic too because there's so little content for him, like, everywhere. He's underrated, there's next to no information about him, and I'm struggling to properly write him after he nearly skewered an artist reader!

[aty-altiria]

I am… Here?

No 26. IF YOU THOUGHT THE HEAD TRAUMA WAS BAD… Migraine | Concussion | Blindness

Word count: 1996

Universe: Harry Potter, My hero Academia

Pairings: Fem!Harry/Shouta Aizawa

Themes: Blindness, Concussion

Summary: Shouta wasn’t in the habit of calling for help from his wife. Mostly because it was difficult to explain the presence of the vigilante who was considered the agent of death to villains. But with the kid in his arms, a spike in his gut, utterly blinded, and the villain stalking his way, Shouta figures… perhaps he doesn’t have a choice in this case. 

@whumptober2020

---

The smoke was unexpected and not in a good way.

Shouta shouldn't have been surprised by it, yet he had been. For the first time, in what was probably his entire career, Shouta had actually been given complete intel for his mission. He'd spoken personally with the mother of the lost child, had gotten a full picture from her, the boyfriend, the best friend, and the visiting aunt. The missing child had been stolen by the ex-husband; he had violated his court order and had bolted in full view of the now frantic mother. The mother had, interestingly enough, a tagging quirk and had her daughter tagged every since the court-order had been placed. So, Shouta knew the location, knew the perp and the man's quirk, Shouta knew the dangers. He'd been able to check the area beforehand; he was utterly prepared.

So yes, the smoke had been a surprise.

Shouta crawled through the vents. He was utterly soundless while he moved toward the child's location. Shouta kicked open the vent above the kid with a sharp strike, then promptly dropped to the concrete flooring with one hand on his capture weapon and the other to brace his body as he landed in a roll. Regaining his feet, Shouta had one eye on the child and the other on the perp to prevent the man's quirk from activating. This particular man's quirk created large stone stalactites and stalagmites, or for the less scientifically inclined, sharp-pointed rock formations.

Hair rising up, Shouta's eyes bled red, and he locked his eyes on the perp with his capture weapon already swinging. Communication had already been attempted, the man had already been spoken to by the authorities, several had tried to talk the man down. But when all else failed, the child's safety came first.

His weapon swung forward, the man dropped something in surprise, and Shouta hadn't looked to see what it was. Not when the perp could skewer him the moment he looked away. Truthfully, Shouta wasn't sure if he should have or not in the end. Not as the small round object struck the ground and- and then Shouta couldn't see a damned thing. The smoke instantly overwhelmed the perp, covered him so thickly that Shouta knew it had to be an illegally stolen hero item. That was a problem he'd have to deal with later, however, as his capture weapon hit the perp and the sound of palms slapping the ground went off.

Shouta was given less than a second to assess the new situation and make a choice.

He chose.

Shouta hurled himself to the side toward the child; she looked just like her picture though her brown - like father's colour - eyes were a bid wide and a large bit terrified. Her long blond curls - like her mothers - were a mess, though her clothing was untouched - thank god. And then Shouta had his hands around her waist, and he was rolling. Automatically he cradled her form to his; he tugged her in close, pressed one hand to her back and the other to the back of her head. Shouta skidded across the ground while the noises within the room exploded; the sound was unimaginable in its volume and-

Shouta grunted when he felt something impale his side. It stopped his momentum entirely and almost distracted from the sound of shattering glass and metal. But even the pain couldn't distract from the sudden blinding darkness in the room.

Assessing his situation was second nature but difficult.

The girl was sobbing; she was a terrified mess in his grip - she was also giving away his location with her sounds. Shouta was pinned to the ground; a stalagmite had pierced through his lower abdomen. He couldn't tell if anything vital had been hit, but the stalagmite was keeping his insides… inside. To escape the rock formation, Shouta would have to lift off of it all the while holding the kid who would likely panic; it was a miracle she hadn't yet. Added on his capture weapon had been extended when the smoke-bomb went off, there was a mild chance it was still wrapped around the perp. But it was only a matter of time before he escaped and found Shouta pinned. Regardless, Shouta couldn't use his capture weapon because pulling it back while it was tangled in the rock wall would be neigh impossible.

So what did he do?

A slightly louder sob echoed from his arms, and Shouta hurriedly reached up. The attack had taken out the lights. Considering it was night and smoky, Shouta couldn't see much of anything even if his eyes were slowly adjusting. In fact, it was dark enough that he could barely make out the kid.

"Shhhh," Shouta soothed as he ran a soft hand through her curls; he was probably leaving blood in her blond hair, but what choice did he have? "It'll be alright, you're going to be fine." Shouta pictured his kids, the teenagers sometimes needed comfort, not often, and Shouta rather preferred shirking that part of the job off. But he had done it. He knew how to do it. It was part of the job… but this situation- he was hard-pressed to keep the panic out of his voice.

What could he do?

"You'll be fine," Shouta repeated, "I'm a hero, and I'm going to get you to your mom. Don't you worry."

The villain would be able to hear Shouta speaking- there- shuffling- Shouta had caught him in his capture gear, but he was trying to escape. He had minutes at best, seconds at worse until the man was free and coming for him while he was helpless.

What should he do? Could he convince her to run? She just had to reach the door. Should he yell for his team? It was only police, but if they got here quick enough- but no, the villain could still use his quirk with Shouta blinded, and surely they heard the noise? Were they already trying to get in? Had the door been blocked? Shouta couldn't hear them or see the police car lights- had then been hit by the quirk as well?

"' Scared," whimpered the kid.

"I know, I know…" he ran his hand in her hair and used the other to rub her back.

What was his best choice?

Shuffling again, a victorious noise- and Shouta was still blind-

He could handle this; there was an option. The villain already knew where he was so- "I need backup! Now!"

"I hear you." Shouta felt his heart skip a beat as a fissure of fear entered his chest.

The girl silenced herself instantly; her whole body started to shake as she burrowed deep into the remains of his capture gear and his uniform. Her tiny fingers clung fast to his clothing, and he felt liquid drip onto his neck- she was crying- silent and terrified- no, she was whispering?

"I am here, I am here, I am here." The girl was repeating it over and over in his capture gear, a comforting sentence, a catch-phrase… Shouta hadn't really understood why All Might had such a thing, not until that moment exactly.

There was nothing from his team, so Shouta had to assume they physically couldn't reach him and getting the kid to run would be pointless. She wouldn't find her way out anyway, not when he was equally blinded. So his only option was- "I need you to do something."

A footstep dangerously close to them, the villain was equally blinded and was feeling his way forward. That was Shouta's only advantage now, the man not using his quirk because Shouta had the girl in his arms and the darkness which had been screwing him.

"S-something?" she shifted slightly. She was likely searching for Shouta's face.

"That's right," Shouta felt himself smile, the manic one that always freaked out the kids. He normally wouldn't smile in such a way with a civilian who was scared but… she couldn't see it. "I need you to say something for me."

"Mella, where are you? Daddy is trying to find you."

"Say what?"

"I am here." Might as well steal from that damned number one. As he said it, Shouta fished a hand in his pocket, felt his hands wrap around a small innocuous figurine. The tiny deer was something Shouta insisted on bringing with him everywhere he went. Never knew where something like a tiny-deer figurine could save his life, like now. And Shouta squeezed it in his palm, felt the horns dig into his hand and pierce skin- he was probably holding it too tight, but… she had said to squeeze it firmly and with intent.

He had both of those now.

"I am… here?"

There was a crack of sound to his left. A moment of silence- then the world exploded with light. Shouta was instantly blinded and snapped his eyes closed against it. In his arms, the kid, Mella, gave a gasp and Shouta heard the sound of shifting fabric and a hand, slim and familiar despite the glove he knew she was wearing, touched his shoulder. "Hello kiddo, looks like you may need a bit of help here."

"Who are you-"

"Stupefy!"

Shouta exhaled as something hit the ground with a loud thud and slowly cracked his eyes open. Shouta dropped his head to the concrete; he hadn't realized he'd been lifting it the entire time, not until he actually relaxed.

They'd be fine.

Truthfully, Shouta didn't often like Holly on missions. She wasn't licensed and was considered a vigilante to the public and a menace to her own community. But she was efficient. She dealt with any problem thrown at her ruthlessly and swiftly. She solved major issues in seconds with her beyond versatile 'quirk,' but every time he called her was another time the police could put two and two together. They could realize Eraserhead was connected to the Lady of Death, a rather dark name considering the bright red and gold hero uniform she wore.

However, once in a while, Shouta did call his wife, and typically, those moments were life and death. Neither he nor Holly would ever accept life in exchange for their secret.

"Alright, Sho- Eraserhead?" he squinted at Holly and shook his head the smallest amount. He didn't want the scare the kid but, no, he was very much not alright. Holly's lips pinched under the hood she wore, the fabric was spelled to protect her identity, and he knew no manner of force would let anything but her willing hands would pull it down. As it was, all he could see was her mouth. Even without the sight though, he knew how her brows would pinch in worry, how her eyes would shine as she fretted for him.

"Alright, well, I think we should get the nice police officers in here. What do you think, little miss?" Holly focused on the kid, even as she pressed her fingers into his skin. Shouta felt the skin at his arm warm, another spell, likely to assess his injuries before she got him free. Holly would handle it, she'd get him to safety, and the kid returned to her mother even if the police gave her grief.

She had this.

And Shouta let himself fall into darkness, all the while knowing he'd wake up in a hospital bed with Holly, back in street clothing, sitting at his bedside.

[ravenempress101]

~Fellowship with the Lodge~Hiram Hurt Au *Requested* Angst and Fluff

Thank you for requesting Darling thank you for letting me write this for you.this one is angst but fluff lord same i had to make this one i was getting desperate but i hope you love it

Definitely request some more!

Hiram lodge walks in with his unbutton white silk puffy shirt. Y/n looks up from her crossword puzzle and scans Hiram holding  up 2 brown bags at yourself. He smiles at her, placing them on the glass table in front of the black couch you're sitting on. Y/n placed her crossword on the table and attacks the brown bags opening them and claps her hands together grinning at the white boxes with a japanese symbol on them

“Yay Chinese thank you mr.lodge”

Y/n cheering as she seized one of the boxes out of the bag. unfastening it to appear Kung pao chicken. As she grabbed the chop sticks. She sets them up in her hands and begins to capture one of the pieces of food and apprends it in her mouth.

“Princesa you're always welcome and it’s hiram” hiram grabbing a box of rice and chopsticks and strutting toward his big office desk. Y/n and him were having company between each other just talking about everything and anything while he does work for the jail. Lucky you haven’t gone there yet since you have arrived at riverdale among some charges that were placed on you.

“Yes mr.lo…. I mean hiram sorry i know i get ahead of myself sometimes” y/n smiles capturing a piece of chicken and stuffing her face.y/n glanced at hiram and down back at her food smirking.hiram glimpse back and a laugh escapes his lips. He loved that you could express yourself to a man that hid his darkest secrets. A man that was always feared but y/n took the fire and never got burned.

“Well I’m glad you are here keeping me company”

Hiram took his daze off y/n and looked right back toward the computer screen reading as he was captured with his paperwork scanning over the words he grabbed his bottle of Jack Daniels and a glass with a single ice cube and started pouring the raven liquid in the glass. When he was done emerging it in his glass. The air filled with brown liquid spilling on the floor followed by shards of glass.  Then the painting on the wall of a “woman dressed in black” the woman was now wearing a gaping hole in her dress.

“Oh my god what was that”

Y/n threw her food on the ground as a silver bullet went gliding into the pillow of the couch and feathers fell in the air and on the floor. Y/n let out a high pitched scream and dived on the floor to escape the round of bullets that were making their way in the room that y/n and Hiram were in.

He loosen his shoulders and stood up from his desk being unphased at the bullets. He fixed his tie and then he commanded yourself

“stay here and don’t get up”

Y/n nodded at him and stayed on the floor as she lodge. Y/n started hearing pounds of footsteps on the marble floor. Then y/n was streaming from her spot. The person had her by her foot. Y/n tears welled up in her orbs attempt to place her fingers on the floor trying to stop the sliding, But the person has gotten yourself by your foot to meet with him by placing his hands around your throat and slightly grasping your neck. Restricting the airway to breathe.

“Hello love where did the so called daddy go”

When y/n comes into contact with the person that had a hold on her, y/n eyes soften and her mouth falls open in shock. Staring at the chocolate orbs furrowed eyebrows. Jaw clenched revealing a vein. His hair all messy and wet form the sweat flaring up on his forehead. y/n knew she was in for it when they both were going home.

Your soon to be crazy ex demanded y/n was choking as he raised yourself higher in the air. y/n feeling his ring index finger pinch her throat. Y/n squirm in his grasp grabbing at his muscular arm. Y/n thought this was the end until sweet pea let go and yourself collided on the floor. Y/n captured her neck and her breathing was gaining life back. Her chest rising and falling rapidly. Y/n spilt out tiny coughs and view at the greaser.y/n said in between coughs blinking back tears that were forming.

“Sweet pea, baby don't do this your gonna get me fired”

“Well that would be wonderful so he won't look at you anymore”

Sweet pea smirked at yourself and squinted evilly at yourself. Y/n laying hopeless on the ground. Y/n threw her body on her stomach. Trying to claw back at him to trip him. Her body is becoming weak with every move she makes. Sweet pea strutted petite inches away from yourself when you were close.  Smirking at the agony he placed on yourself. Your hand was red and it was getting puffy as y/n kept digging her painted nails in the marble floor constructing your way to him.

“Awee hun come here to me cmon”

Sweet pea taunting towards yourself as he took his pistol out of his pocket and cocked his gun while aiming right at your puffy bloody hand. Y/n viewed him, tears welling up in your eyes at the person she loved so much, going insane for his love that he always enforced then y/n began to scream.

“Help hiram help”

As sweet pea pulled the trigger of  the gun. The bullet flew toward the marble floor and bounced off onto one of the lights as the bulb broke in front of yourself. Piercing the rough skin of your palms. Whining in agony Hiram ran toward yourself and saw sweet pea holding the gun at her about to take another shot but then Hiram tackled the man. They both collided with the floor. sweet pea dropped the gun, turning himself and Hiram. Sweet pea was on top of hiram. He towered over him Throwing a left hook colliding with his jaw. Hiram’s face flared up with blue and purple marks as his head went toward the other side. Hearing Hiram winces broke your heart. Sweet pea toss the punches broke your soul.

“Please stop please you’re going to kill him”

Hiram heard your screams and threw a right blow at his side. Sweet pea’s body flew to the other side and onto the floor rolling off of hiram as Sweet pea's frame goes limp laying on the floor knocked cold. Then Hiram slowly stood up from the ground. Coming towards yourself making sure you were safe. He seized your arm lifting you from off the floor. Y/n stood up but when she was about to lean into Hiram,

“No hiram he’s about to”

Y/n saw the dark figure hold his hands up with a figurine and strike Hiram over the head with it and He collided with the floor holding his head that was dripping with blood. Then sweet pea repeatedly started kicking Hiram. He kicked his diaphragm.his breathing hitching with every impact. The kicks have gotten harder and quicker.

“See y/n this is what you brought upon yourself”

Next y/n stagger over to the side table.becoming silent, sneaking over towards her object she needed to obtain.The erupted sound of punches being thrown in the air. y/n reaches in the drawer and pulls out a pocket knife. When y/n limps quietly behind a angry sweet pea.

“This is gonna hurt me more than it's going to hurt you”

She raises her arms above her head and  lunges the pocket knife into his back. The greaser winces and stops kicking Hiram. Sweet pea falls to the floor and stiffens under the impact. Red droplets begans spilling out his mouth.He lays there, a pool of blood starts forming.

Y/n reaches for hiram. Pulling him up and throwing his arm over y/ns neck as they both stagger to the grey chair in front of the red and orange amber burning over the fireplace.

“Lord he put up a fight” Hiram wincing while holding his bruised rib cage. He laid in the chair. His heavy inhale and exhale trying to ease the pain. Y/n scanned over Hiram and held her hands to his blue and red face.y/n whispering to hiram

“Hiram omg your all bruised up”

Y/n running her hands over him. Y/n feeling all the cuts and bruises that were forming. Why did her crazy ex have to ruin such a goodnight for both of them. He was just focusing on business and y/n was just there taking care of his house and what needed to be taken care of. Y/n couldn’t deal with seeing Hiram mutilated so badly. It broke her heart scanning his handsome face covered all in wombs.

“Get me the inseptic”

Hiram said while tilting his head toward the direction toward the first aid kit. Y/n got it and came back over to him and opened the med kit and then she brought out the alcohol bottle with a white towel.y/n poured the clear liquid on the towel. Then placed it on Hiram’s bloody lip. He watched your every movement like a hawk.

“Hiram im so sorry i know i’m fired i cant believe… i just can’t”

Hiram cut in your babbling and boomed toward yourself and grabbed your soft hands running velvety circles on the palms calming your ranting.

“Is that why you come in with bruises hun, you could’ve told me what he has done”

Y/n started back patting the bloody bottom lip. Cleaning the remaining blood that was left. Hiram stared at your concerning face.while tears streamed down her cheeks y/n said without remorse

“I was scared and alone to talk to anyone hiram he just started doing this’

‘When i just hired you?’

Hiram asking yourself with a side eye.

Y/n started to break down while whipping her stained filled cheeks while scanning at all the damage sweet pea as done to his demeanor. y/n was so hurt from all this seeing hiram struggle for his inhales was her biggest fear.

“Yes, I can’t believe he did this he’s insane’

y/n guiding the rag over his puffy cheek. Dabbing gently at the blood that covered the rag. Y/n was moving toward his sharp jawline. Y/n couldn’t help but admire how he was authorizing yourself to clean himself up.hiram began to say

“He isn't insane anymore’  scanning at a lifeless shell in his studies. He was gonna have to bury him sooner or later with the help of yourself.  Y/n began to trail down his neck getting hypnotised in his caramel skin. Y/n swab and added medicine on his neck while placing a small bandage on the bruise and then y/n started unbuttoning half of his shirt and seeing his exposed rib cage and his caramel chiseled chest.

“You know you can tell me everything and anything, i'm here to protect you princesa”

Hiram knocking you back to reality. Her face forming a grin fragile at the statement of reassurance.y/n nodded as she started applying gauze to his rib cage. Tapping the womb making sure the gauze covers the mess that was made on him. Then y/n starred right back up at hiram

“Thank you for that I promise I’ll repay you”

y/n said while standing up and placing the med kit back where it was. Hiram found his strength as the powerful man he is patted his lap for an invite for her to sit upon. Y’n took the offer and sat on his lap. Hiram sneaked your arms around yourself. Engulfing yourself in a hug and began to whisper

“Hey you are by cleaning these wombs and being here with me”

Hiram whispered toward yourself. As y/n felt the warmth of the fire that burn and hiram's muscular popping vein arms hug your frame he placed a small peck on the back of shoulder feeling his bruised kiss lingered as y/n laid her head on his board shoulder staring at the open flames that appear Y/n felt a wave of safety and reassurance take a hold on your insanity by a man that was no longer feared .

[namjuicyy]

A Father’s Love - Chapter Two

Masterlist | Requests are open.

Genre: Angst, fluff, smut.

Genre of this part: Fluff, angst.

Word Count: 2.7k.

Summary: Single father, Namjoon, struggles to keep his idol life and his private life separate. When he meets you, everything changes.

Warnings: None.

Hannam the Hill was not an area of Seoul that you frequented. In fact, you had never been there before in your life. Upon moving to the capital, you had heard that this area was the Beverly Hills of Seoul - the place the rich and famous lived. And judging by the cheque Namjoon had left you yesterday, it was safe to say that he was one of the rich.

You weren't entirely sure why you were nervous; or why you'd woken up in that state. You just knew that there were nothing but butterflies flirting around in your stomach that just couldn't keep still. You had drank so much tea that morning, despite the fact that you weren't a massive fan of tea, just in the hopes that it would settle your jitters. It didn't.

Hannam the Hill was nothing like you'd ever seen before, and nothing like you'd expected. When you'd heard that it was the living quarters for Korea's entertainers, you expected there to be a round-the-clock security man sat in a small booth checking people's ID's and making sure they were allowed to visit. To your surprise, there was no security guard, no booth, and certainly no fencing surrounding the small district to protect its inhabitants. You could have been anyone - you were anyone. Yet you found yourself wandering through the streets searching for Namjoon's building and feeling completely out of place. You wondered who could live in these apartments. Would you have known them? You weren't exactly hooked on the idea of living your life vicariously through the stories and tabloids of the celebrities you were, no doubt, surrounded by. But you weren't exactly cut off from society's favourites. You knew of people, not that you'd be able to put faces to names, or names to bits of work.

You finally found Namjoon's building - a place surrounded by perfectly neat hedges and flowerbeds that were hidden underneath a thick blanket of winter snow. As you entered the foyer, you noticed that the floors were so polished, you could see your perfect reflection in the material. What was it? Marble? You couldn't be sure. Though it looked like solid marble.

Once again, you were surprised at the lack of security at reception. In fact, there was a lack of anyone at reception. Clearly someone was on duty, because their coat was on the back of their chair and their notepad had been left open on the desk. But they weren't around. You looked at Namjoon's form that you'd brought with you, to see if he'd left an apartment number there. At least you wouldn't have to worry about waiting half an hour for the receptionist to come back off their toilet break and tell you that scum like you weren't welcome where money was. And luckily for you, he did. So, you followed the signs to his apartment, noting to yourself that his place of living seemed to be more like a five-star luxury hotel than an apartment building. It was so eerily quiet, too, you felt like you had to tiptoe down the corridors in order to not disturb anyone in the apartments you were passing.

82. Finally. The butterflies got stronger as you stood there staring at Namjoon's door. You weren't entirely sure why you were nervous. Perhaps it was because you'd never personally delivered someone's photos before, and were never there to see their reactions. Or maybe it was just down to your somewhat ambiverted nature. Maybe today you woke up feeling extremely introverted and not willing to socialise. You couldn't quite put your finger on it. But you could put your finger on the doorbell, something you did at least two minutes after arriving at the destination.

The door opened to reveal a young woman standing there. She had long, dark hair and eyes that reminded you of Namjoon's. A confused look was painted on her beautiful face as she stood there taking in your appearance, and waiting for you to say something. Anything. And when you didn't, she took over and began the conversation for you. "May I help you?" She asked. She was polite and kind, but was also incredibly assertive. And you couldn't help but admire her.

"Oh, um, yes! Sorry. My name is ___ _____, from Captured Moments in Hongdae." You said. Your words were coming out a lot quicker than you'd hoped. You stopped, took a deep breath and made yourself into the professional you always had been. "Is a Mr Kim Namjoon around?"

"What's this about?"

"He came into my studio last night to have some photos taken of his son and himself. I'm just here to deliver them."

"Oh. He didn't tell anyone he was doing that. Um. One second." She turned away from the door and made her voice even louder as she called out for Namjoon to come to the door. She then stepped back and invited you in, standing next to you on the hyeon gwan and shutting the front door behind you. You could hear the loudness of the talking from the living area, and then all of a sudden came Namjoon's heavy footsteps. He poked his head round the corner first, before exposing his entirety to you, a warmth flickering on his face as he grabbed hold of your hand, shook it, and bowed ninety degrees to you.

"Miss _____!" He exclaimed. "Thank you so much for coming!"

"No, not at all." You replied. You lifted the custom bag that you were holding in your hand. "I brought the prints for you to take a look at."

"Amazing, thank you! Why don't you come in?"

You hesitated to respond. "That's very kind of you, but I ought to get off."

"No, no. I insist. Please come in. It's too cold for me to send you on your way without at least one hot drink." He took the prints off you, and watched you as you removed your shoes and your coat. Namjoon seemed to be incredibly persuasive, and definitely seemed like the kind of person that you couldn't say no to. Especially when he was adamant about something, as he appeared to be about this. "This is my sister, by the way; Kim Geongmin. Geongmin, this is ___ _____, a wonderfully talented photographer who's just saved my ass."

"It's nice to meet you." Geongmin said, bowing to you. "I'm guessing this is to do with the family photos Mum's been pestering you about for the last year and a half."

"Pretty much yeah. Come in, come in."

You followed Namjoon and his sister into the apartment, and was immediately hit with a wall of noise. There seemed to be the entire Kim family here, extended family included. You assumed you were standing in the presence of aunties and uncles, cousins, siblings and, judging by the couple in the corner, grandparents. Sat on the sofa was a small woman, with short hair and glasses next to a man she was holding hands with – that you could only assume was her husband.

Namjoon's apartment was odd to say the least. The living space, you could tell, was supposed to be larger. But it had been cut in half by a fake wall, with two doors built into them. Further down the hall were four more doors, making this, you presumed, a six-bedroom apartment opposed to the four-bedrooms it was originally built as. This meant that the dining table had been squashed up against the breakfast counters, and the sofas that were surrounding the TV were packed tight against one another, to make sure that they could all be fit in.

Namjoon placed the bag on the table, and pulled out the cardboard box that protected the prints. He opened them and stared at the many photos in front of him. He placed his hand over his heart and looked at you appreciatively. "They're even more beautiful than I remember." He commented. He bowed again. "Thank you so much."

"Well, if you're going to get all sentimental about it," Geongmin began, "let's see them." Namjoon handed her two prints, one of Haneul alone, and the other of Namjoon and Haneul. Immediately, Geongmin began to replicate her brother's expression, and her eyes clouded over. "They're stunning." She added.

It was your turn to bow this time. "Thank you so much."

Namjoon picked up two of the many framed pictures that you'd included. He'd more than paid of it. He brought it over to the woman who was sitting on the couch, and handed them to her without offering an explanation. Her expression seemed much warmer than Namjoon's, and she cried a lot quicker than Geongmin did. You watched as the entire family gathered into the centre of the living space and the photos were passed around for the entire clan to see. Each person was incredibly happy with the work you'd produced, and once Namjoon had introduced you to the whole room, they had all commended you on your extraordinary work, and thanked you for what you'd done for the family. You were a little confused at the reaction to the photos, you couldn't deny that. But it obviously meant a lot to the family so you let your curiosities fall silent as you were dragged around the room by Namjoon so he could talk to his relatives about how you took pity on him and saved his ass.

During the course of the afternoon, he had shoved three hot chocolates into your hand and you were now being dragged into one of the bedrooms at the request of Haneul so he could show you what Santa Grandfather had brought him.

The bedroom was another aspect of this apartment that blew your mind. Save the small box of children's toys in the corner, and the open closet doors revealing the tiny clothes that clearly belonged to Haneul, the bedroom looked just like an adult's bedroom. There was a cupboard filled with different ornaments, figurines and adult's clothing and grooming products, a double bed with a cartoon character pillow on it and a desk in the corner. That was it. You couldn't help but wonder what on earth was going on. It wasn't any of your business, of course it wasn't, but you couldn't help but be curious.

When Namjoon found you, you were reading Haneul a story from his interactive storybook, watching as Haneul pressed the buttons to make the right sounds at the right time. He leant up against the open door, watching you with his son, before clearing his throat and addressing his son. "Shouldn't you be playing with your cousins, baby?" He asked. Haneul flashed his father the same cheeky grin you saw yesterday and buried his face in your body, like he was hiding from Namjoon. You all laughed. "Come on, monkey. Leave Miss _____ alone."

"Miss _____ actually has to leave now." You said.

"You heard her, cheeky." Namjoon walked over to the two of you on the floor and picked up Haneul. He raised his son over his head, so his tummy was level with Namjoon's mouth, and blew a raspberry on it to make Haneul laugh. Which it did. Namjoon then looked at you. "Please let me take you home."

"Oh, no, that's not necessary. But thank you, though."

"Please, it's the least I could do."

"No, really. You've done enough. Which reminds me," you rummaged through your bag and pulled out the cheque Namjoon gave you, "you overpaid me by a significant amount. I can't accept this."

"No, please do. And please let me take you home. It's too cold to be taking unreliable public transport."

You eventually relented and once you said goodbye to the Kim's, you and Namjoon left for the car that was already waiting outside the front of the apartment block. "I don't actually drive." he confessed as you both get into the backseat. "But this is Yongsik, my chauffer."

Yongsik waved at you from the front seat.

"Why don't you drive?" You asked.

"I never had the need to. Yongsik was provided from the company I work for to make sure I never had to." He joked. There was a bit of a silence before Namjoon continued. "Thank you."

"What for?"

"For the photos. They're beautiful."

"Of course. I'm happy to help."

"You have no idea just how much you have helped."

"After today, I have a slight grasp."

Namjoon laughed. "After Haneul's mum..." he paused. "You know... he became, well, the only thing I can describe him as was depressed. Which sounds ridiculous because he was only 15-months-old, but he was. He wasn't eating properly, or sleeping properly. He wouldn't stop crying. I thought I was a really shit father. You have no idea how hard it is to watch your son's heart break and not be able to do anything about it. We never thought he'd be happy again, you know? But as time went on, he started to get happier and used to life without her and the photos you took were the first photos taken of him since where he was smiling. That's why everyone is so appreciative of what you've done, is because you've given us a beautiful picture of a gorgeous smile that we never thought we'd see again."

You couldn't say anything. You wanted to, but there was nothing that would come out that didn't seem inappropriate. Instead, you grabbed Namjoon's large hand in between your fingers and gently rubbed the top. You looked at his face, at the pain etched in his eyes. He was clearly still caught up on Haneul's mother. He clearly still loved her. You couldn't imagine, and didn't want to even fathom what he and his family had been through. All you could do was offer the support you'd unknowingly given.

You'd arrived at your flat and Namjoon walked you to your door, thanking you for everything once again before bidding you goodbye and to take care.

Your apartment was, in comparison to Namjoon's, tiny and quiet. Your bed, kitchen and living space was in the same room, and there was no one there to greet you. Time stood still as soon as you shut the door and locked the world away again, processing everything that had happened that day. You only went to Namjoon's to drop off prints. Not to drink hot beverages with his family and read to his son. You kicked off your shoes and threw your coat in the cupboard before flopping down on your bed and switching the television on. You planned to numb your mind tonight and fall asleep still wearing your clothes. You really couldn't be bothered to function as a proper human.

When you opened the studio the week after New Year's, everything had returned to normal. You had many clients come in and demand this, that and the other, and test your last nerve. When you heard the bell of your shop ring, you assumed it was another customer. Never did you think you'd see Namjoon again.

He stood there, as he did last week, covered in snow and looking adorably pitiful. This time, instead of holding his son, he held two hot take out cups. His large, brown eyes looking at you as warmly as they always had and his arm outstretched and offering you one of the cups. "I just thought I'd stop by and give you this." He told you.

"Thank you. But you really didn't need to do that."

"I know. But I wanted to. I actually wanted to ask you something."

"Oh? That sounds ominous."

Namjoon laughed. "I was just wondering if you'd come out for dinner with me. I'll pay. I just wanted to thank you properly for everything."

"Namjoon, you've thanked me enough. Honestly. I appreciate the thought but I really don't want to put you out or anything like that."

"I know, but I still want to. Is tomorrow okay? I'll come and pick you up. How does barbecue sound?"

You sighed and smiled at him. "Barbecue sounds amazing, thank you."

"Excellent. I'll pick you up at six?" You nodded. "Great. See you at six tomorrow evening."

And with that, he left, flashing you one of his gorgeous smiles before leaving you alone in the studio, grinning like the Cheshire cat. The butterflies at returned, but this time you didn't feel nervous at all.

[wxndinmyhair]

Arianna Appreciation Month- Week One: Happiness

//Y’all this got so out of control I AM SORRY. Because I’m a Rapunzel blog, I decided to write this from Rapunzel’s point of view, and I think I’ll write the rest of the prompts that way as well. But rest assured, it is definitely a story about her relationship with Arianna, and is definitely about a happy moment for Arianna- even if Rapunzel’s emotions are a little more conflicted. You’ll see what I mean ;) It’s a bit of a rough draft, but I hope you enjoy it anyways!!

Being back in the castle felt like a dream. Not just in the sense that it was amazing- which it was!- but in the sense that it really felt like a dream. Like none of it was even real. Every now and then Rapunzel would turn her head and nearly topple over, expecting the weight of hair that no longer existed to move with her. Or she’d turn a corner and see a shadowy figure- and wince- only to find it was just one of the guards. For weeks she’d wandered the corridors on her own, trying to figure out this strange new home- and how to make it home.

Right now, it just wasn’t. Rapunzel lay flat on her back, staring up at the bright canopy of her enormous bed. She shifted her gaze to the walls- unpainted and bare. She looked next to the vanity, to the delicate little figurines of horses and princesses and knights that lined it. There was even a small stuffed pony, one of it’s white ears clearly having been chewed on at one point. Then she turned her head to see the bright white armoire- and were she to open it, she’d see the tiny little outfits that had once been meant for her. On the other side of it was a portrait hanging over the fireplace- stern and austere, it was a painting of the infant Rapunzel and her parents. Two people who were effectively strangers to her, and whom the portraits still captured not at all. 

At one time, Rapunzel knew this room had been meant to be her nursery. Instead it had become like something of a shrine- the portrait, the decorations, all of it had been unchanged until very recently. The armoire now housed dresses meant for a young adult alongside the baby clothes. Rapunzel hadn’t yet asked for them to be taken somewhere else- it didn’t seem right. And instead of the crib that had been there the night of her arrival, there was now this too-big bed. That had needed to be changed. Rapunzel was definitely too big for a crib. 

But as much this room was hers, it wasn’t hers. Rapunzel rolled over, only to come face to face with her oldest friend. Pascal the chameleon gave her a long, knowing stare. Rapunzel sighed and propped herself up on her elbow. 

“Well, what do you think we should do, Pascal?” she challenged him. “I can’t just ask them if I can paint on the walls. This is a castle, not an empty tower. There’s...rules here.” Besides, her dad was kind of intimidating. 

Pascal clearly wasn’t swayed. He gestured towards the room and made a gagging motion. Rapunzel sat up, rolling her eyes. 

“I know, I know it’s...not really us,” she said, staring back at the perfectly pristine white furniture. The vanity really was the worst offender- bright white with gold plating, and all those creepy little figures staring at her. The stuffed horse was fine, she guessed, but it wasn’t the same as Millie, the little rag doll she’d left back in the tower. She’d never even thought to bring Millie, who’d been long ago forgotten on the top of Rapunzel’s old bookshelf. She’d been a birthday gift from- well. Not that it mattered anymore.

Pascal chirped at her, jumping up to sit on Rapunzel’s shoulder. She stood up and crossed the room, picking the pony up off the table. She ran her finger over the chewed up ear, trying to imagine herself having once shoved it into her mouth. “I guess I must have done that,” she said, glancing at Pascal with a small smile. “I mean, I don’t think mo- my...she did that.”

Pascal frowned at her. Rapunzel sighed.

“I know, Pascal, but...it’s still weird,” Rapunzel said, setting the pony back down. “It’s like I have this whole other life now, and...I don’t actually fit in it. This room...this place...and them,” she nodded towards the portrait. “How am I going to do this?”

Pascal crawled down Rapunzel’s arm, coming to rest in the palm of her hand. He said nothing- he never really did- but he did lift one of this little feet and press it onto her thumb. And then he straightened his tail and mimicked the motion of a paint brush. Rapunzel smiled despite herself.

“You’re right. I definitely can’t be myself if I can’t paint,” she said. She looked back at the portrait, considering it. She didn’t think her dad would be much for painting, but...Rapunzel’s eyes lingered on the Queen. 

“I guess we’ve gotta start somewhere, right?”

The next day, Rapunzel approached the woman who-was-her-mother-she-supposed after breakfast. She let just enough time pass so that it didn’t seem too weird, before sneaking up the stairs to the massive drawing room where she knew the Queen spent most of her time. 

Pascal gave Rapunzel a look, as if to ask ‘why all the secrecy?’ But Rapunzel only put a finger to her lips and whispered “I don’t want the guards to see, that’s all.” She crept alongside the wall, pausing at the door to listen in. She couldn’t really hear anything much, except the occasional flip of a page. 

“She’s reading, do you think we should interrupt? Maybe she wouldn’t like it...” Rapunzel pressed her thumb to her mouth, biting down on the nail. A new habit, now that it was harder to tug on her hair. Pascal gave her another look, before nudging her with his claws. 

“Yeah, okay okay,” she said, stepping around the corner. Now standing in the doorway, she could see Queen Arianna seated on the sofa, perfectly upright, reading a book. Arianna looked up, a genuine look of surprise on her face, and then she smiled.

“Oh! Rapunzel, I wasn’t expecting you,” she said, setting the book down. Rapunzel gave a small wave, trying hard to keep a genuine smile on her own face instead of a nervous grimace. 

“Hi, um...hi,” she said, faltering slightly. “I was just...walking by...thought I’d pop in.” She punctuated her sentence with a small laugh, shuffling her feet. The smile on Arianna’s face fell a little, and Rapunzel knew why all too well. 

“Actually...” she continued on, “I was um...I was wondering...about my bedroom?”

“Yes? What about it?” Arianna asked.

“It’s just that...this is probably gonna sound crazy...to you,” Rapunzel fumbled, fiddling with the short ends of her hair. “But back...I mean...you know, there, I...well I really liked to paint.  A lot, and we...I mean, I...didn’t really have paper. Or canvas. So moth- I mean...”

Rapunzel stopped, coloring furiously at what she’d almost said. A dark expression crossed Arianna’s face, one Rapunzel couldn’t quite read. 

“Go on,” Arianna said after a beat. Rapunzel pressed a hand to her cheek, turning slightly to hide her blush. Why had she just said that? She’d vowed never to say that! 

“Um...w-well anyways I would sometimes paint on the walls and I was wondering if I could do that in my room,” Rapunzel said in one breath, still hiding her face from Arianna’s gaze. She couldn’t bear to think what her real mother must be thinking right now. This was probably hopeless anyway. Princesses didn’t paint on walls, what was she thinking? And now she’d messed it up and Arianna was going to get angry, Rapunzel just knew it...even Pascal shrank back a little, though there was no hair to hide in. 

She was shocked, then, when she felt a gentle hand on her shoulder. Rapunzel’s head snapped up, locking eyes with a familiar shade of green. Arianna was smiling kindly at her, as though nothing strange had happened at all. Rapunzel, if anything, was even more embarrassed. She let her hand drop, wrapping it around her arm. 

“I think that’s a lovely idea, Rapunzel. I didn’t know you liked to paint,” Arianna said, and there was only a brief flicker of pain in her voice. Rapunzel, shocked to find she wasn’t in any trouble, gave a slight smile of relief.

“Y-yeah...since I was little,” she said. “I just thought it might...make it feel more like home.” 

Arianna grinned at that word, the hand at Rapunzel’s shoulder squeezing just slightly. “I think I know just the thing,” she said. “Can you wait in your bedroom for me?” Rapunzel nodded, more confused than ever. Arianna gave Rapunzel one last bright smile, and sped off to places unknown. Rapunzel glanced at Pascal.

“Do you think that went well?” 

It wasn’t much later that Arianna came bounding through the doors, a load of paint brushes in her arms. Behind her was one of the guards, Pete Rapunzel thought his name was, pushing a large cart with buckets of paint. They were different than the paints Rapunzel had left behind, but her heart still lifted at the sight of it. There were more colors here than she’d ever had before!

“You can go,” Arianna said to Pete, who nodded and shut the door behind him. Rapunzel, feeling more excited than she had in weeks, pressed her hands together and bit back a squeal.

“You did all this?” she asked, tearing her eyes away from a perfect shade of purple to look up at the Queen. Arianna was grinning from ear to ear, and Rapunzel didn’t quite understand why. 

“Do you like it?” Arianna asked, to which Rapunzel responded in earnest.

“I love it! And I can really paint...everywhere?” she gestured around the room, which now looked less like a sterile living room and more like a blank canvas. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had this much space. 

“If that’s what makes you happy, then you can paint wherever you want,” Arianna said. “Your father won’t mind. We want you to feel at home here, Rapunzel.” Rapunzel turned back to Arianna, a small smile on her face. 

“Thank you, Moth-” she fumbled again, biting her lip. “Um...thank you.” 

Arianna stood still for a moment. Rapunzel looked down, hugging her arms to her chest. Why was this so hard? Mother. Just say Mother! She’d said it so many times before, but...

“What about ‘Mom?’“

That was the last thing Rapunzel had expected to hear.

“Huh?” 

“You called her ‘Mother,’” Arianna said evenly, a very calm expression on her face- almost too calm. Rapunzel winced, mumbling out a quick “sorry” before being interrupted again.

“You don’t need to be so formal with me,” Arianna said, stepping over to Rapunzel’s side. Rapunzel flushed again, biting her lip hard. Inside, she was so relieved she felt like crying- she didn’t have to say it after all! She looked up, and Arianna was so different. She just knew things without Rapunzel having to tell her, and she could sense that now- Arianna just knew. She knew how she felt. Rapunzel’s lower lip trembled. 

“Mom,” she managed to say, and Arianna’s face split into a grin so wide Rapunzel thought it would break. “I like that.” 

“Me too.”

Then, without much warning, Arianna enveloped Rapunzel into a hug so tight she thought she would break. But she didn’t- and on second thought, break was the wrong word. 

This wasn’t breaking. This was healing. 

[aloevverified]

NO MERCY (part 1)

mcu character(s) Erik “Killmonger” Stevens pairing Erik Stevens x POC!reader format 3-parts oneshot | part 2 warning lots of fluff, cursing and maybe implied sex?? word count 2.5k

request “Heya! I’m new and I already love your writing, if you don’t mind, would you write a one-shot or headcanons about Killmonger trying to fix things with S/O after an argument? It doesn’t matter if it’s fluff or light smut 💕”

summary Erik finally surprises you with another date, mostly as an apology for the disaster that was the last one. But just as you are starting to enjoy yourself, you notice that his true reason for this date isn’t entirely sincere.

Your boyfriend could be a piece of sh*t! But what’s new? Just a week ago, he pissed you off by being a self-centered, jealous monster during your long-awaited quality-time, and you were still waiting for him to apologize about that. Today, you only received a text from him that stated: ‘See you outside, babe.’

You had promised yourself that you weren’t going to forgive him that easily. It always went down the same way, the whole eight months of the relationship. He would mostly start a fight and you’d try to reason with him. Then, he would get so frustrated with you, blaming you for not trying to see his ways. Obviously, you got all offended, because you did try. You couldn’t help it his point was backed by half a**ed arguments. When the fight really heated up, he would explode one big insult your way. The rest of the night you were bewildered about the fact he could actually be so insensitive towards you.

Normal people would have given up by now, you knew that, but you didn’t want to lose hope. Even though you didn’t know much about his personal life, his family history or his current job, you deeply believed Erik was a special person. You felt it in your core. Whenever he talked passionately about something, you could see him become a completely different person, not his usual playful self. He reasoned with skill as his brows draw together and his hands gestured in delight. You loved to tell him afterwards that you read more on the subject and wanted to discuss it more. He literally would melt in front of you, telling you he didn’t know whether he should kiss you or resume on the subject. And whenever you spoke about your critical heritage studies, he would hang on your lips like a child. His face watched you intensely as you explain a new theory you had learned, stopping you to repeat something, or ask more explanation when something wasn’t clear. He even surprised you with insightful questions.

Erik was special, but an a**hole too.

After a class on museums, you sat on your usual bench at campus. It was hidden between some low-hanging tree branches. You enjoyed the seclusion it offered. You hadn’t text Erik you would wait for him there. He would find you if he wanted to. So, you calmly took your notes from your backpack and started to compare the matter discussed in class with the texts in your reader.

“A text would have been helpful, babe.”

Your lips curled in triumph. He was annoyed.

“A text a week ago would have been lovely too,” you retorted with snide, without looking up.

“Still pissed?” he said in surprise. He sat beside you and tossed his arm around your shoulder. “Your temper gets worse by the day, huh?”

“Can you blame me? I have you for a boyfriend,” you said with a guise of disapproval.

“That hurt,” he said as he pounded his fist against his chest. He faked a grunt as if you had stabbed him in the heart before he kissed you on the cheek.

His scent enveloped you. Your stomach twirled but you had promised yourself no mercy today. You kept focus on your notes until he pushed two longcut papers under your nose.

Plane tickets?

“What is this?”

You tried to contain the glee that grew inside of you.

“Whatever you want it to be,” he said with a shrug.

Another half a**ed apology. You put your notes down and took the plane tickets from his hand.

“Chicago?”

You turned your eyes at him and he conjured a smug smirk on his face. You had missed his face, his smile.

No mercy.

“We leave tomorrow, babe.”

“I have classes,” you exclaimed, pushing the tickets in his hand again. “And I have to work, douche.”

“After.” You saw how he couldn’t contain his pride. “And, you called sick at work, like an hour ago.”

He licked his lips as his smirk grew into the smile that showed his subtle dimples.

“And I pick you up here, ‘cause we head straight to the airport.”

“How considerate.” You rolled your eyes. “Are you paying my bills?”

He didn’t answer you but watched you with intense eyes as if waiting for you to jump him for the surprise.

As if.

But you were wondering what his plans for Chicago, of all places, were.

“Aren’t you going to tell me what we’ll be doing there?” You plucked the tickets from his hands as you read the dates. “For two days?”

He tilled his head in jest.

“Nah.”

***

You tried to keep your answers short and harsh whenever Erik asked you something during the flight, but he didn’t mind. On the contrary, he was enjoying himself too much for someone who you weren’t given your full attention. He rubbed his hand over your leg, kissed you on the cheek (because no, you wouldn’t give him the joy of kissing you on the lips!), played with your hands and fingers. You let him do. He still hadn’t revealed what the both of you came to do in Chicago, and you couldn’t contain your curiosity for much longer.  Him touching you was a welcome distraction.

Once landed, finding your luggage and through customs, you headed to the exit where Erik hailed a taxi. The ride to the hotel seemed to last a life time.

“I waited long enough, Erik,” you started impatiently. You pulled your hand out of his and crossed your arms. “Where are we going?”

He dragged a sigh, but you knew it to be a theatrical one even before he turned his head with a playful smile. “To our hotel.”

“And then?”

“You. Me.” He raised his eyebrows as he chuckled. “Hotel rooms come with beds.”

“If you think this,” you articulated as you gestured at your body, “is even considering sharing a bed with that,” you tossed a hand his direction, “then I’ll have a great time proving you wrong.”

He laughed as he captured your hand and kissed it a moment longer than needed.

“We’ll see.”

***

At the hotel, you made sure to immediately point out that you were sleeping on the bed. Erik could sort it out where he would spend the night. The floor, the bathtub, the one-person sofa. You didn’t care. He just laughed it off and managed to give you a quick peck on the lips before running in the bathroom.

You were folding your clothes for the weekend in the tiny closet when Erik draped his arms around your waist. He lightly bit your ear. You didn’t stop him, but you didn’t encourage him either.

“Wanna know where we goin’?”, he whispered seductively into your ear. He swayed you left to right.

“Don’t care anymore.”

You were faking indifference, probably not even convincing, and silently wished he would reveal his plans anyway.

He kissed your ear. “Some art institute nearby.”

You softened under his arms. “A museum?”

“Yeah.”

“You find museums dull,” you said with furrowed brows.

“Nah, that ain’t the reason.”

You turned around to look at him. “What?”

“You like that sh*t, right? I messed up last time, and now I brought you here,” he explained.

“So, this is a…” You raised your brows to indicate he should finish your sentence.

He shrugged his shoulder. “Whatever you want, babe.”

You inhaled slowly. No mercy, you thought. You pulled yourself out of his arms, putting distance between the both of you. “This is a…?!”

He stared at you as you reveled inside. His face flickered between frustration and admiration.

“An apology. Ya happy?”

“Very!” You closed the distance and kissed him full on the lips.

He draped his arms around you, lifted you up, and intensified the embrace. You wrapped your legs around him, not thinking about your earlier conversation in the taxi.

***

The Art Institute of Chicago was a wonderful place. Their continental collections contained so many, and so different artefacts from different places and people. Erik wasn’t really impressed by it all, though he looked the part.

“Those glasses weren’t really necessary.”

“Let me have my shine, okay?”, he laughed and pulled you closer to him.

Even though, he repeated his hatred for museums, never stating why, he did show much interest in the African collections.

“So, like this artefact is from Benin, right?” He pointed at a tall rod with on top a cone-shaped object.

“Yes. You can see it by the iron figurines on the top part. It’s typically for the Fon people from Ouidah, but…,” you said as you looked closer to the markings. Those markings didn’t seem to correspond with the markings you had researched for the Fon people for an assignment.

“What?”, Erik said, brows inched together as he inspected the object with squinted eyes.

“Can you see the little markings on the rod itself? I don’t recognize it.”

“Huh.” He eyed the artefact a moment longer, puckering his lips somewhat, before walking to the next vitrine. You silently followed.

“What about his one?”

“They say Burkino Faso, but I’d bet it might be from a tribe that lives on the borders with Togo and Ghana. You can see some influences from both countries in it.”

“You turn me on when you be acting smart.”

He cupped your face in one swift move, pulling you closer and sucked on your bottom lip.

“Erik,” you gasped in a low voice as you pushed him away. “We’re in public.”

He lifted his shoulders in a shrug and walked further between the art collections.

“So many things from my continent,” you heard him whisper to himself when you reached him again.

“I know…” you started.

You took his arm and rested your head on his shoulder.

“Museums are so wrong for keeping these artefacts. Most of them are culturally so significant, and still, after all these years, they decided to keep it with the argument they’re preserving ‘lost’ cultures.”

He didn’t respond, so you lifted your head to look at his face. His eyes shined with marvel.

“That what they teach you in college?”

“No. I took an extra course where they dismantled the ‘white gaze’ to observe contemporary Western cultural practices related to colonial history.”

“I need to hear more about that!”

That’s when his phone rang. He read the name on the display, and his face stretched in earnest.

“Give me a sec, babe.” He walked away to the side of the room before answering.

He secluded himself on many occasions when his phone rang but you never said anything about it. For some reason, Erik liked to keep his work life to himself and you let him. But today, he didn’t smirk at you before taking the call. His lips had been stretched in a serious line and the entire situation just looked so suspicious that you had to listen in. As soon as he turned his back to you, you sneaked up on him. As you got closer, you could hear him speak.

“Yeah, we here,” he said.

He was annoyed.

When you took another step towards him, Erik turned around. The look on his face was mad angry and you knew he knew that you knew that he caught you.

“Nah, I got us covered, bro.”

He ended the call and put his phone back in his pocket.

“What was that about?”

“Nothing,” he said. He took you by the hand with much force than usual and tried to drag you to the nearest display.

But you wouldn’t let the matter go and pulled your hand out of his.

“What did you mean with ‘I got us covered’?”

He turned to you as he hushed you. His body almost pressed against yours. In a lower voice, you dared to continue.

“Who is us? And why do they care about you and me being in Chicago?”

“Why you eavesdroppin’ like that?”, he grunted under his breath.  He eyed you from top to bottom and your face fell in disgust.

This would end in a fight.

“Erik, did you take me to this museum because you wanted to or because you had to?”

“Girl, you hear yourself talk this sh*t?”

He tried to laugh it off, pulling you in his arms but you could hear the frustrated undertone in his words.

You weren’t backing down now and pulled out of his embrace. This wasn’t the first time he kept something from you. The other times you let it slip because he would say it was something personal or work. But you clearly heard him say ‘we’re here’. You were part of this secret business of him, and you wanted to know why.

“There is something going on here.”

He slipped his fingers through yours. “Nothing goin’ on, alright, babe?”

His words were heavily covered in insisting pressure, not his usual lightheartedness.

“Is it work?”, you asked with a sigh.

He flared his nostrils and let go of your hand.

“Babe, you know I can’t talk about my work.”

His face gave him away. You recognized his frustrations in a blink. His eyes didn’t meet yours and his mouth distorted in an ugly line.

“It is work. So now, this is a business trip?”, you remarked. “And you thought, oh why not suck it up to my girlfriend as an apology present?”

You shook your head.

“You’re full of sh*t, you know that?”

His head tilted. “Babe?”

“I am finishing this tour without you.”

“Babe.”

“You can pay a f***ing guide, ‘cause honestly, I don’t give a sh*t.”

***

You arrived at your hotel, and Erik wasn’t there. You had tried to finish the museum tour, but you were so frustrated and annoyed and plain mad, that you decided to give up on it.

He didn’t even run after you.

How dared he be so selfish? His work? You huffed at the thought. Of course, this was work-related. Erik doing something altruistic? That could never be. Of course, this trip was bullsh*t to begin with. You held your breath trying to keep the tears inside you.

While you were packing your bags, tears started to flow slowly down your cheek.

Great. Now, you were crying about the a**hole too.

You heard the click of the hotel door opening, but you didn’t turn around at the sound. You didn’t want him to see you cry. You didn’t want to see him, but his body pressed against your back and you immediately relaxed into his arms.

“I’m sorry,” he said while taking you in his arms.

“Yeah, right.”

You wiped your wet cheeks with the back of your hand.

He kissed your neck. “Nah, I mean it.”

For the first time, he did sound apologetic. Almost sincere.

No mercy.

“Are you going to tell me what this trip was really about?”

He let you go and let himself fall on the bed.

“I didn’t know if I could trust you.”

You wrinkled your nose. What was he saying?

“Babe,” he continued. “Listen, you said something earlier about museums being sh*t, right?”

“Right? But what does that have to do with trust?”

He gestured for you to sit next to him, and you did.

“Everything,” he answered.

He placed his elbows on his knees, his back bent as he stared right in front of him. His brows were inching together, as if his frustration from earlier was smoldering into an angry fire inside of him.

“I’ve been dying to tell you about my work,” he started. He turned his eyes to you without moving an inch, “cause you’re like into heritage and sh*t, and our visions align when it comes to that.”

“Okay?” You were starting to feel nervous, hesitant to hear what more he had to say. His words had a certain obscurity to them. You didn’t like it.

“You could help me figure stuff out.”

“I don’t–”

“I take back what is rightfully ours, [Y/N].” He had exposed his teeth as he said ‘ours’. “From those f*cking museums.”

Your stomach dropped.

“Like you steal artefacts?”

Your face slanted in shock. Erik was a thief? A criminal?

It seemed like he followed your train of thoughts since he took your hands into his lap and held your eyes with a kind, almost desperate look.

“Nah, not like that. I bring them back to the locals.”

You closed your eyes and inhaled slowly, before breathing out. Erik shifted closer to you.

His heart might be on the right place, but a crime is a crime, no?

“You can help me with that,” he said. You opened your eyes and saw that he was smiling at you. Not a smirk or a grin, but one of his rare genuine smiles. “Like you know that some aren’t even from the places they say.”

This was all too much. Help him?

“I don’t know, Erik?”, you managed to say. “There’s something that doesn’t feel right here.”

“Does it feel right that those artefacts are held from their rightful owners?”, Erik snapped. He took his chin in his hand and rubbed it once. With that gesture, he usually tried to contain the anger that raged inside of him.

“No, but those people died ages ago.”

“And their descendants are still livin’!” He entwined his fingers with yours, brushing your hand up to his lips. “I need you in my team.”

“I am not taking part in your heist if that is what you’re asking.”

You took your hand back.

“And I have my father to look after,” you added in a low voice.

“So?” he stated plainly. “I split my money with you. And you don’t need to be heisting with me, just visit them museums and tell me what you know.”

Erik watched you intently, and you blinked in desperation.

“Erik…”

“Babe.”

He pulled you towards him and captured your lips with his. Then, he put his forehead against yours and held your face in his hand.

“Are you in, or nah?”

masterlist | part 2

personal remark I don’t do SMUT, not even a little bit, anon, but I think the overload of fluff makes up for that. Enjoy! I really wanted to play on this idea that Killmonger doesn’t leave anything to chance (hence the girlfriend being a critical heritage student) because come on, we’re talking about N’Jadaka, son of N’Jobu!!

taglist @sweetvengeancee You’re too sweet!