#can’t afford it now but one day i’ll have enough money and spoons to go through with all that effort of creating a wardrobe

[fatliberation]

tbh the level of difficulty I experience in trying to dress myself in a way where I feel fashionable and like I’m expressing myself is directly causing me extreme body image issues. and dysphoria. I feel like I would be in considerably less distress over my body every single day if I could just WEAR COOL CLOTHES.

[alrightberries]

honey, honey (how you thrill me)

request: i loved strawberries and cigarettes but levi just can’t catch a break :(( can we have a super fluffy modern au with boyfriend levi instead? thanks!

request: hi i’m new here and had read your fics. i love your take on levi’s character! Also that your writing is very great to read!😘 (tho that angst really made me cry HARD) if i may request umm... i want a levi x reader fic about them being like an old married couple but they’re not in a relationship ‘yet’ so like everyone ships them. Its a fluffy crack fic/ Reader is like “well you’re clean and I kinda lilke you so...” then levi be like “you’re tolerable and knows how to properly clean.” and then they really ended up married. It’s like the easiest transition from friends to lovers that one day they just said lets get married we act like it anyway whats new 😂. I want fluffs and laughs! Aot is angsty enough we need fluffs with our favorite characters!!

❈ pairing: levi ackerman x reader

❈ genre: fluff, semi-crack.  ❈ word count: 4.6k

❈ summary: modern au. In which you and Levi are both professors at the same university, and are painfully unaware that all the students and other staff members have a bet that’s been going on for years now. What’s it about? When you’ll both finally confess to each other and just date already.

❈ trigger warnings: profanity. mentions of sex

a/n: made it gender neutral as per usual. this was really fun to write! makes me think about writing fluff more often (pffft sure)

Trost University was home to many brilliant minds. It was a prestigious school with an acceptance rate of 600 out of 4000 yearly applicants, and producing the finest students; those of which would almost always graduate with high honors before starting a successful career of their choosing.

Its professors, undoubtedly, were of the finest quality as well. They were professional, extremely skilled, and highly trained. It was a workforce full of almost over qualified educators excelling in their respective fields, with master and PhD certificates framed on cubicle walls being the norm in the faculty room.

Erwin himself was proud to be a professor here. He started working as a high school teacher when he was still studying for his master’s degree, shifting from high school teachings to college teachings as years passed by, before eventually getting recognized and offered a job seven years ago by the prestigious school.

His friends— a loving and longterm couple who, as far as he knew, were high school sweethearts and still going strong today— had joined him on this journey as well. He’d known them since they were in college, all studying different fields but aiming for the same career of teaching.

The three of them shared a strong bond; a bond built on study groups, mutual dislike for crappy teachers, and a certain love for education. They were there for him, and he was there for them. He especially disliked it, however, when their relationship went through rough patches. He didn’t like picking sides, and listening to the same story being told from two different perspectives almost always made him want to grab Y/N and Levi’s heads and bash them together for how dumb they were acting.

But despite the differences and occasional fights, he wouldn’t hesitate to say that he trusted them with his life.

So Erwin, for the life of him, couldn’t figure out why he was just now finding out that the power couple he knew and loved wasn’t even a couple at all.

“So, wait.” He speaks, trying to be heard over the crowded cafeteria chatter. “You’re telling me... they’re not a longterm couple?”

“They’re not.” Moblit confirms easily. “Apparently, they’re not even dating.”

“Or so they claim.” Hange interjects. “Y/N and Levi have actual matching rings. Literally— I asked Levi about it once and he said Y/N was his fiancé.”

“But not romantically.” Moblit quickly adds on. “I was there too, he said not romantically.”

“Why would Levi propose to someone he’s not romantically interested in, huh?!” She counters back, a little louder than the brown haired man’s volume.

“I don’t know! Citizenship? Money? Sex—“

“They’re in love! You know they’re in love, you’re just denying it because you want to get in Y/N’s pants.” She huffs. “And because you’re about to lose the bet.”

Erwin’s eyebrows scrunch in confusion. “Bet? What bet?”

“Oh, you don’t know about the bet?” Hange asks. “It’s been going on for, like, five years now. The entire faculty’s in on it.” She begins to chow down on her soup, not offering more of an explanation. Moblit takes this as his cue to expand when he notices Erwin’s blank stare.

“Since you guys joined maybe... seven or so years ago? Everyone just assumed Y/N and Levi were a thing. Because of, y’know, the way they interact with each other. But then five years ago Hange and I asked them when their anniversary was so we could get them some wine, and both of them full on denied even being in a relationship.”

Hange nods, more than a spoonful of soup and a more than generous bite of bread in her mouth. “Yeah, but then I peaked at their faculty files—“

“Peaked at their faculty files?” Erwin murmurs, but he’s ignored.

“—and they have the same home address. They live together!”

“I can confirm that much, at least.” The blonde man answers thoughtfully. “They’ve been sharing a dorm since college but Y/N moved out at some point. They live together in Levi’s apartment now, though.”

“That doesn’t prove anything.” Says Moblit. “They could just be roommates and really good friends.”

“Well I’ll say!” Hange throws her hands in the air. “I caught Y/N sucking Levi’s dick at a party once. Must be one hell of a friendship they have, aye Moblit?”

Her elbow begins nudging the brunette beside her, and Erwin stares with amusement when Moblit starts getting irritated from the eccentric woman’s teasing.

“So what’s the wager?” Erwin asks.

The two professors stop their bickering and share an evil smile. Hange gestures for Erwin to come closer, as if she were about to tell him a secret, and he does just that.

“Whoever wins the bet gets a free meal from Shaw’s Bistro.”

Erwin’s eyes widen. Shaw’s Bistro; the classy high end restaurant with the fancy wine, fancier atmosphere, and the best Japanese Salted Salmon he’s ever had.

It was an expensive restaurant— even for someone with his salary. Erwin knew he could rarely ever eat there unless he wanted to run his bank account dry. And he concludes that this petty bet must be a Pretty Big Fucking Deal.

He squints his eyes. “I’m listening.”

Hange giggles as she continues. “Basically, you have to guess how long it’ll take for Y/N and Levi to finally admit they’re couple. But you can’t choose the same answer as other people in the bet, we can’t afford two winners. Literally.” She gestures to Moblit. “Unless you’re like dumb dumb over there who wagered they’ll never admit it because they’re not a couple—“

“They’re not!”

“—I’m sure you’ll do fine.”

Erwin nods his head, one hand on his chin in thought. He never did explicitly ask whether they were dating or not, he just assumed they were.

He carefully considers his options; be a snoop to his longterm friends and possibly break their trust for joining a foolish bet? Or Japanese Salted Salmon from Shaw’s Bistro?

Hange and Moblit look at him expectantly, smiling when he nods.

“Deal me in.”

The cafeteria was noisy when you walked in.

Students mingled amongst themselves, chatting idly about academics and gossip. Cutlery scraped against each other as people took bites of their meals. Your eyes scanned the crowd, spotting your friends sitting around their usual table and having what seemed to be a heated discussion.

You turned to look at the man beside you. “Did you bring your own lunch today?”

Levi nods as he lifts up a small black bag. “Always do. But I’ll stand next to you in the lunch line so you don’t look like a loner.”

That was Levi Speak for I’ll wait for you.

You smile. “Thanks.”

The brief silence between you is broken when you start talking about your students— how proud you were that Armin was tutoring some of the struggling students in his free time, how terrible Jean was at hiding his crush on Mikasa, how terrible Mikasa was at hiding her crush on Eren (“I don’t even think she’s trying to hide it. At this point, I’m convinced that Eren is either dumb or dense.”)

Levi nods along to your tales, seemingly uninterested and bored. But anyone who knew him well would know he was listening intently as you spoke, every word heard loud and clear and processing in his mind as soon as they left your lips. Occasionally, he would pipe in with his own comments (“Eren’s just dumb.”) but he didn’t engage too much, opting to let you speak and rant on.

Your talkativeness never got on his nerves, contrary to popular belief. He liked listening to your stories, listening to your voice, and seeing the little glint in your eyes when you start talking passionately about your students. He overall just liked being around you. You were cleaner than most people he knew. You were tolerable. Sometimes a pain in the ass, but still tolerable.

But what does get on his nerves, however, is being ‘secretly’ watched by his friends.

Once he’s sure you’re not looking, he turns his head in the direction of their table, murderous glare prominent on his face. Hange, Moblit, and Erwin quickly snap their heads down and pretend to eat, but Levi knew they were definitely staring.

“Oh crap, I forgot my free meal card.” He hears you mumble beside him. He hadn’t even realized you were already standing in front of the counter.

“Figures. You have the memory of a gold fish.” Levi comments off-handedly. 

He hands the cashier his free meal card and grabs your tray for you, and you silently took the coat that Levi had swung over his arm to carry with you instead. You knew he’d hate for it to get dirtied by any accidental soup splashing.

“So, what’s happening on your end of the gossip?” You ask, both making your way to your usual table with friends.

Levi shrugs. “The brats are doing well on their thesis. Their grammar is shit though; makes you wonder how they graduated high school.”

You snicker. “You say that now but tomorrow pull an all-nighter to help them study and revise.”

“You’re not one talk. You scheduled two different consultations between classes and three more after your shift.”

“I can’t help it, okay?! You know I have a soft spot for the kids from the 104th.”

Of course he did. He knew of your affection for that specific group of students— admittedly, he held a twinge of affection for them too.

They were part of the first class you ever taught in your entire teaching career. At the time, you both worked at some crappy school in the 104th district. And to see the kids now, all grown up and studying at a prestigious college, it made your heart swell. And Levi’s heart... well, suffice to say it cracked some of the ice around it.

“That soft spot of yours is making you lose sleep.” He scolds. “I’ll take some of the consultations off your hands. The lil shits deserve a teacher who isn’t half asleep.”

Again, that was Levi Speak for Don’t overwork yourself, let me help.

You jokingly slap his arm. “That’s rude!”

“I know.”

Your conversation is interrupted when you finally arrived at the table, Levi setting down your tray in front of you and you handing him back his coat as you sat down next to each other.

“Hey.” You greet your friends, and Levi silently unpacks his lunch. “What were you guys talking about? It looked pretty intense.”

“Oh, nothing, nothing.” Hange waved off. “Just the usual. Grading papers, grading lab experiments, grading essays. The usual.”

You nod, unconvinced but letting it slide. “I see.”

The table is once again filled with laughter and conversations. Banter was thrown around here and there, mostly between you, Hange, and Moblit as you debated about films and TV shows. Levi and Erwin stuck to light chatter, but it didn’t go unnoticed to the shorter man when Erwin’s eyes squinted as Levi placed his arm around the back of your chair like he always did, or when Hange tried to hide her squeal when he wiped some excess soup from the corner of your lips.

Something was up.

It was about ten minutes into lunch when your phone began to ring, a notification from a reminder app you downloaded. You picked up your phone and sighed as you read your schedule.

“Gotta go. I have a meeting in a few.” You mutter, beginning to clean up your tray and utensils; you were a little disappointed. You didn’t even get to finish your soup.

Levi eyes you and the way you kept glancing back and forth between your soup and the clock. He sighs before he speaks, “I’ll take care of your dishes and buy you lunch later. Just go.”

“No, no, I can— fuck!” You yell when the bowl of soup is accidentally knocked over, spilling over your jacket.

Levi silently offers you his handkerchief to clean yourself up. He starts using napkins to clean the table as well, before taking the coat he brought and giving it to you.

“Use this for now.”

You smile at him once again, taking your coat off and slipping on his as you stood up. “Thanks.”

He doesn’t flinch (or react for that matter) when you kiss his cheek before you left, only letting out a small hum of acknowledgement as you waved goodbye to your friends and made your way to the meeting.

Once you were out of view, Hange’s smile immediately drops in favor of too serious eyes as she starts interrogating Levi.

“Okay, cut the crap, Ackerman. How long have you—“

“Hange, no, we’ve talked about this.” Erwin tries to reason but his pleas fall on deaf ears as she continues.

“How long have you and Y/N been dating?”

Ah. So that’s what it was about.

Levi sighs and continues to chew on his bread. He unenthusiastically stares at the woman yelling at him, swallowing his meal before speaking, “I’ve told you before and I’ll tell you again: we’re not.”

“Bullshit!” She yells. “You guys are a disgusting old married couple who have two adopted children—“

“Dogs.” Levi corrects boredly, but just like everyone else at the table, he’s ignored as Hange continues her tirade.

“—have matching sweaters, do small bullshit for each other like paying for meals and lending your coats. And for god’s sake, they literally just kissed your cheek even though you hate human contact.”

She finishes her rant but Levi looks unphased. God, she wanted to punch his dumb and oblivious face so bad.

“Those are normal things normal friends do. I’m not surprised you wouldn’t know, four-eyes.” Says Levi, but Hange is unaffected and already used to his abrasive words.

Levi continues. “We don’t do anything beyond what’s considered friendship.”

Hange squints her eyes in suspicion. “Didn’t Y/N move into your apartment?”

“Yeah. Their landlord was shit.”

“Where I caught you having sex?”

“We’re fuck buddies and you don’t know how to knock.”

“But you introduced them to your mom as your fiancé?”

“I lied so she would stop bugging me about getting married.”

“You literally have a shared bank account and a shared retirement fund!”

“It’s easier to keep track of.”

“Damn it, Levi!”

Armin stares at the study guide in front of him, mind half processing the words and half... not. Quite frankly, he starts to wonder if the papers you’d given him were written in gibberish or some dead language no one spoke anymore.

You see him struggle to understand the sheet of paper in front of him, and sigh.

“Need a little help there, Armin?” You offer but he shakes his head. “I’m okay. I think I can understand this if I read through it more, it’s my friends I’m worried about.”

He glances beside him where the rest of his study group also stared the papers, each face painted with a unique mixture of confusion and dread.

You weren’t surprised, however. The readings for this module were quite complex, and the fact that your brightest students— Armin and Mikasa— were struggling with it made you feel a little bit hopeless for the rest of your class. Truth be told, even though you taught this topic countless of times, you weren’t entirely sure how to simplify it without leaving out too much information.

“Okay, how about this, we could—“ A soft knock interrupts your sentence, and you stare at the students in front of you to remember if you were expecting any more. It seemed like everyone was here, however, so you weren’t sure who was at the door.

“It’s me.” Came Levi’s voice, almost like he heard your inner monolgue.

“Come in!” You called out, focus shifting back to the paper in front of you as you heard the door open and close.

Okay, so I guess I could take this part and summarize it for them? Or would that still be too complicated? No, maybe I can—

“Ah, it’s that topic.” Levi mumurs, snapping you out of your thoughts. His face was directly next to yours as he stared intently at the papers you held. “No wonder you all look like you’re about to crap your pants.”

“Language, Levi. Not in front of the students.” You scold.

“They curse more than I do.”

“Still.”

He ignores your comment as he hands you a brown paper bag, pulling a chair out to sit next to you. He grabs the paper from your hands to look over the study guide you prepared, undoubtedly trying to figure out a way to simplify it as well.

“What’s this?” You ask, opening the paper bag.

“Bought you dinner.” He replies, eyes not leaving the paper in front of him. “I figured you’d forget again.”

As if on cue, your stomach suddenly starts feeling empty. It was impossible that you were hungry, though. You just had lunch. And after lunch you had some meetings to attend to, a couple classes, some last minute consultations, and— okay. Maybe it’d been a couple hours since lunch, but it couldn’t be that bad. A brief glance at the clock confirms that—

“Holy shit, it’s almost 8pm.”

“Language, Y/N. Not in front of the students.”

“Kiss my ass.”

“Gladly.”

The students in front of you let out a loud groan, faces over exaggeratedly contorted in disgust at your and Levi’s conversation.

Levi glimpses up at them and raises his eyebrow in question, while you jokingly roll your eyes.

“Alright, I think we should continue our consultation another time.” You said, beginning to pack up your teaching materials as the students did the same. “It’s getting late and curfew’s at 8pm. I’d better not see any of you outside the dorms.”

You knew you would though. It’s Friday night, there’s a bar across the street, and they’re teenagers. What could possibly go wrong?

You turn to Levi and hand him the keys. “You go ahead to the car, I’ll finish packing up.”

“It’s alright, I’ll wait for you in the hallway.” Levi takes the car keys as he stands up, walking out the door once again and leaving you alone with your students.

As you began to arrange your papers and clear the table, you start to remind them, “Okay, so we can discuss chapters—“

“Are you and Professor Ackerman dating?” Eren asks curiously, earning a shove from Jean and a silent threat to shut up, dumbass.

You chuckle. “No, Eren. We’re not.”

He gives you a doubtful look, one which you only return with a curious face.

“What’s with that look?” You ask, and he shrugs.

“You should date him— ow, what?!” He speaks, getting shoved by both Reiner and Jean this time before Mikasa pulls them off of him. You pause from your task.

“Okay, I’ll humor you. Why should I date him?”

The students share a look, daring each other to respond to your bold question. A few tense moments pass by and you smugly continue packing your papers. Yeah, you figured no one would—

“He’s nicer when he’s with you.” To your surprise, it was Mikasa who answers.

Unsure how to answer but still wanting to remain professional, you nod your head without looking up from your task. “Duly noted. Now go on, I know you have parties to attend to. I won’t hold you here much longer.”

The students laughed as they said their goodbyes; you held the door open for them until everyone was out before you left as well, shutting down the lights and locking the room once more.

A warm hand makes its way to the small of your back, and you smile.

“Hey.” Levi greets.

“Hey.” You repeat. “You read to go?”

“Yeah.”

“Wanna share my dinner when we get back home?”

“...yeah.”

He takes the stack of paper from your arms, his free hand reaching out for your own. You walked down the hallway in relative silence, interlocked hands swinging slightly from every step.

From the opposite corner of the hallway, the students’ prying eyes observe the small interaction; the two professors remained completely unaware that they were being watched.

“Told you they were a thing.” Ymir gloats, and the group snickers as Reiner irritatedly hands her some money.

Something was wrong.

If there was one thing Erwin knew from the nearly two decade long friendship he shared with you and Levi, it was when something was wrong.

It didn’t go unnoticed to him when Levi didn’t open your side of the car door as he usually would when you arrived at the parking lot; when he made a beeline for his cubicle in the faculty instead of helping you get settled first; when you didn’t make a fresh pot of tea for him before classes started; when your small sweet gestures throughout the day were kept to a minimal; and most importantly, when neither you nor Levi wore your matching gold rings.

The faculty was nearly empty, save for himself, Hange, Moblit, and the two people who were having a lover’s quarrel. The entire day went by without seeing you two walk side by side like you usually would, and Erwin was pretty sure Levi’s permanent frown somehow got deeper.

Yeah. Something was horribly wrong.

“Pssst.” Erwin hears from the desk next to his. He turns around and is met with Hange and Moblit’s curious gazes.

“The hell happened to those two? Trouble in paradise?” Hange asks, eyeing Y/N and Levi’s grouchy faces and refusal to acknowledge each others’ existence as they each packed their things. She adds on, “Are they getting divorced?” Only to be reminded by Moblit that “They’re not dating.”

Erwin shrugs, answering Hange’s question. “No idea.”

Moblit chimes in, “I heard Petra tried asking Levi out yesterday and now Y/N is jealous.” 

She scoffs. “Y/N isn’t the jealous type. Besides, Petra’s part of the bet so that means she thinks they’re going to get together.”

“I’m part of the bet and I don’t think they’re going to get together.” Moblit points out. “And Petra stares at Levi the way Levi stares at Y/N.”

“Full of disdain and irritation?” Hange asks.

“No,” Erwin finally interjects. “Full of love and admiration.”

“Can the three of you creeps keep your mouths shut?” Hange, Erwin, and Moblit’s heads snapped to the direction of the voice, eyes meeting a pissed off Levi with a pissed off Y/N beside him. It seems like their hushed whispering wasn’t so hushed at all. 

“When you gossip about our private life the least you could do is wait until we’ve left the room.” You gritted.

“No, it wasn’t-” Hange tries to defend herself but is cut off by Levi, “We already heard you talking. Now out with it before I change my mind about letting this slide.”

The three guilty professors sigh, sharing a look before Erwin decides to come clean. “We’re concerned for you.” He starts. “You’ve been ignoring each other the entire day and whatever this fight is, it’s the worst one I’ve seen you have.”

You sigh. “Listen, it’s not that we don’t appreciate your concern, it’s just that-”

“-it’s just that it’s none of your goddamn business.” Levi interjects and you immediately glare at his rudeness. 

“Shut it, Levi. I don’t have time for your bull.”

“And I don’t have time for your petty lies.”

The three watched as you and Levi begin to quarrel, sharp words and irritated glares thrown around with each passing second. Your voices overlapped with each other as Erwin tried to make sense of what it was you were even fighting about, some words about betrayal in the highest degree and ruining a good thing and a relationship built on lies being the few words he understands. 

Finally, he has enough.

“Stop.” Erwin says loudly but firmly. The two of you pause from your bickering him and stare at him incredulously; he continues to speak, “We’re not teenagers anymore, we’re grown adults. I’m getting tired of playing mediator whenever you fight but if I have to do it again so you stop yelling, then I will.” 

He sighs. “Now what the hell are you two fighting about?”

“Y/N started it.” “Levi started it.” You say at the same time, and Erwin feels a headache coming but decides to ignore it.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

The two of you stare at each other angrily, almost daring the other to back down. This goes on for a few seconds before Levi finally sighs and speaks.

“Y/N thinks lemon scented detergent is better than lavender scented detergent.”

Hange and Moblit snicker but quickly shut up when Erwin gives them a look. He wasn’t even surprised that a fight as small and menial as this would be the fight that tears his favorite power couple apart.

“It is and you know it.” You reply defiantly and Levi groans in frustration, hand holding his head in disbelief as he quietly mutters, “I can’t believe I’m marrying someone who thinks lemon is better than lavender.”

At that, Hange’s ears perk up. “You’re getting married?!” She screams, and the two of you look at her in confusion, fight suddenly forgotten.

“Yeah, next week.” You reply wearily. “We emailed you the invites.”

If Erwin thought your bickering was loud, then the squeal that Hange let out was nothing short of deafening as she suddenly lunges at the couple, forcing them into a group hug as she cheers, “I knew it! I fucking knew it! You are together.”

Levi scoffs. “Don’t be silly, it’s for tax purposes. Apparently the bank won’t approve the loan for our new house unless we’re legally wed; something about tax fraud.”

“House?” Moblit echoes. “Don’t you already live together?”

You nod. “Yeah, but we figured the kids-”

“Dogs.” Levi corrects.

“-deserve a yard to run around in. Our apartment’s getting too cramped for the four of us.”

“Don’t ruin this for me!” Hange yells. “I have a wedding to plan.”

Levi sighs. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, four-eyes. There isn’t going to be a ceremony. We’re going to a court house to get our marriage license approved. That’s it.”

“And we invited you and Erwin to be our witnesses.” You explained. “There isn’t going to be a celebration but we’re going to host a small dinner party for close friends and family.We’d greatly appreciate it if you can RSVP to the emails within the week so we know how much food to prepare.”

The three professors nod, each exchanging pleasant smiles. It wasn’t the wedding invite they were hoping to receive but it was still a wedding invite nonetheless, and they weren’t about to burst your bubble.

“Hold on a second,” Erwin mutters, suddenly remembering one detail. “Where are your rings?” He gestures to your ringless hands.

“We had them engraved with our initials. Makes things more believable.” Levi answers. “If you’re done with the dumb questions, we’ll go ahead now.” 

He doesn’t wait for them to answer as he holds your hand in his, walking you out of the faculty room and into the hallway as he pretends not to notice his friends giggling like teenagers at the information you just shared.

“So...” You start, giving him a warm smile as you squeezed his hand. “Do you think they’re catching on?”

Levi lets out a rare smile, eyes softening as he looks at you. “No. They’re too dumb to know we’re actually together. They’ll eat up whatever bullshit explanation we come up with.”

“Okay, but remind me again why we have to keep pretending like we’re not actually together and not actually getting married next week?”

He brings your hand up to his lips, kissing your knuckles affectionately before placing his hand on the small of your back.

“Does it bother you that they don’t know?” He asks, and you hum as you think it through. “No. It’s actually really entertaining.” You laugh. “But why don’t you want them to know?”

He shrugs, pulling you closer to him. “That’s what they get for placing stupid bets.”

alrightberries © 2020. do not modify or repost.

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[master-sass-blast]

This Life is Infinite: Chapter One.

OH YEAH. IT'S TIME, BITCHES!!!

Summary: The Infinity War Fic aka I do whatever the fuck I want with the Russo's canon.

Get ready for the most ambitious crossover in CHC history.

Pairing(s): Piotr Rasputin x Reader, Nathan Summers x Wade Wilson, Alexandra Rasputin x Nikolai Rasputin, and Kitty Pryde x Illyana Rasputin.

Rating: M for canon typical violence and death threats.

Word Count: 10k... oops.

Set after "Children of the Gods: Part Three."

Author's Note: Tentatively, I’m back from my hiatus. Things are nowhere near settled with my mental health, but I’m feeling well enough to post again.

I think it mostly goes without saying that updates for this series might be a little irregular going forward; not only do I need to take care of myself, but I also need to find a better balance with posting fanfiction and the rest of my life. As always, I will do my best to be clear with you all about what to expect in terms of updates and wait times.

Thank you again for your compassion and understanding.

Taglist: @marvel-is-perfection, @chromecutie, @super-darkcloudstudent, @girl-obsessed-with-things, @leo-writer, @emma-frxst, @sadstone-s

It’s not every day that mysterious, leather-clad men appear –quite literally, considering they teleported in—in your kitchen unannounced.

(Okay, perhaps they don’t qualify as “mysterious” when one of them is your dad, one of them is your brother, and the third is your uncle, but there’s a fourth man with them that you don’t recognize, so you like to think that the principle of the expression remains intact.)

You glance between Nate, Wade, your uncle, and the aforementioned unrecognized fourth man, then lift the box of cereal you’d been pouring into a bowl by way of greeting. “Breakfast?”

***

(The fourth man, as it turns out, goes by the code name “Kronos” –which, in terms of super cool code names, ranks at about an eight.)

“There’s a war coming,” Nate explains while the four of you stand around your kitchen counter. “Apocalypse is stirring. He’ll be sending his allies to Earth to initiate the first stage of the war, so that he’ll encounter less resistance when he comes to rule.”

“‘s called ‘The Decimation,’” Wade interjects as he shovels spoonfuls of Lucky Charms into his mouth. He points at his bowl, then jerks his head at the fridge. “D’ y’all have chocolate syrup?”

“Yeah, second shelf on the door.” You take another bite of your cereal, swallow, then ask Nathan, “What… what happens with ‘The Decimation?’”

“One of Apocalypse’s allies, Thanos, will arrive with his armies and generals. He’ll use his own forces to annihilate the heroes of Earth, then he’ll finish assembling the Infinity Stones and gauntlet and use them to wipe out half of all life across the cosmos.”

You purse your lips together and eye your dad warily. “If… if this was anyone other than you saying this, I’d say this all sounds like a hackneyed comic book and-or movie plot.”

“His information checks out,” Kronos says, voice low and gravelly. “Our cross-temporal intel confirms communications between Apocalypse and Thanos. We might have a few weeks to prepare for Thanos’s arrival –and that’s if we’re lucky.”

Wade snorts and mutters something that sounds suspiciously like “handwavey bullshit” under his breath.

You look to your uncle. “And you’re here because…”

“Need to talk to Xavier,” your uncle answers, “and then alert the Avengers and anyone else that can help us face Thanos.”

“Right,” you say slowly. “And you stopped here first because…”

“I was hungry,” Wade blurts as he drizzles more chocolate syrup on top of his cereal.

“You have credibility,” Nathan says while shooting Wade an equally annoyed and endeared look. “Xavier and Piotr listen to you, and the rest of the X-Men listen to them. We can’t afford to deal with a bunch of hesitating and infighting right now. We need to get our shit together and defeat Thanos, or the world as we know it is fucked.”

“Question.” Wade lifts his spoon. “Does Donald Trump die in this decimation bullshit?”

“We’ll deal with him later,” your uncle stage-whispers to Wade.

“If you’re all sure…” You wait for all four of them to nod, then sigh and shrug. “Alright. I think most of the X-Men are training right now. Let’s go talk to them.”

***

“This all sounds fucking insane.”

Wade gasps. The eyes on his mask widen as he lifts a gloved hand to where his mouth is under his mask. “James Doohan used a no-no word! My goodness gracious golly!”

Scott Summers scowls, but otherwise ignores Wade. He turns to the Professor, expression incredulous. “Do you believe… any of this?”

Xavier grimaces. “Our sources through Kronos” –he gestures to your uncle’s colleague—“have been confirming the intentions of Apocalypse for several years now. The difficulty was always in determining when Apocalypse would act, and in which timeline –though, now that we have Cable’s intel, we’ve been able to figure those two details out.”

“If Thanos is as powerful as you’re saying,” Ororo pipes up, looking at Nathan, “then how are we supposed to defeat him?”

“Any way we can,” Nathan fires back, expression grim.

“Our intel says that Thanos only has three of the six Infinity Stones, along with the gauntlet,” Kronos adds. “If we can keep the last three stones out of his hands and defeat his armies here on Earth, we’ll have better odds of facing Apocalypse down the road.”

“Right,” Jean says. “And where are the last three stones?”

“The Mind Stone is in the possession of Vision, an android created by Ultron, who now works with the Avengers,” Kronos explains. “The Time Stone is in the possession of Doctor Stephen Strange, who leads an order of sorcerers and magic users in New York. The Soul Stone… has yet to be located.”

“And we’re sure that Thanos is coming here?” Ororo asks, brows raised in skepticism.

“One of the unifying features across the pertinent timelines is a battle that takes place on Earth, specifically in the country of Wakanda,” Kronos answers. “Regardless of the other features in the timeline, there is always a major confrontation between Thanos and the forces of earth there.”

“Great,” Rogue deadpans, expression flat. “Now we just have to convince them to let us in. ‘Excuse me, your Majesty T’Challa, but there’s an evil spaceman that is collecting all powerful rhinestones and he’s going to come here to try and wipe out half of all life on Earth, so we need you to let us into your country with strict visitation policies to we can help you fight him.’ Yeah, that’ll go over real well.”

“We don’t have time to waste on sarcastic bullshit,” Nathan grits out, cybernetic eye flaring as he glares at Rogue. “We’ll handle getting the Avengers and Wakanda on board,” he says, turning to the Professor. “I take it we can trust you to get your team and Magneto collected?”

“I’ll contact Erik,” Xavier promises before looking over at your husband. “Piotr, would you mind calling your family? I believe, given the severity of the coming conflict, having as many hands as possible would be in our best interests.”

Piotr nods. “Konechno –of course.” He looks up at you from where he’s sitting, confusion clear in his sky blue eyes—

“You good to come with us?” Nathan asks, tapping your shoulder lightly to get your attention. “We’ll need help talking to Stark.”

“Huh? Uh –yeah. Sure.” You look back at Piotr; the request to ask for five minutes, just five minutes, to talk to your husband is on the tip of your tongue—

Nate tugs you –gently—a couple inches closer, then says, “Bodyslide by five.”

The room blurs, then disappears from view.

***

You’ve only bodyslid with Nathan a handful of times –and each time you do, you’re always caught off guard by how fucking weird it feels.

Your stomach lurches like you’ve just gone down the steepest drop on a rollercoaster, even though the ground remains steady beneath your feet. In a flash, there’s a brand new room in front of you –sleek, monochromatic cabinets, white marble countertops, stainless steel appliances and fixtures, the works. The space oozes sophistication, function, style –and money. So much money.

Given everything you’ve heard about Tony Stark, it makes sense.

“Deep breaths,” Nathan says. He places a steadying hand on your shoulder while you blink rapidly. “In through the nose, out through the mouth.”

You do your best to comply –though it’s a bit difficult, given that your brain is shrieking ‘sensory overload’ while trying to adjust to the new lighting, the new sounds, the sensation of having moved without really having moved at all, at least in the sense of walking or riding in a car—

And then alarms start blaring. Red lights flash, klaxons go off, the works.

Wade swears and claps his hands over his ears. “Christ! For a guy who has literal robots that can wipe his ass with dollar bills, you think he’d invest in something a little easier on the ears!”

“Wilson!” The klaxons and red lights cut out, replaced by various whirring noises and the sound of hurried, angry footsteps. “I swear to God, if you’ve hijacked one of my jets again, I’m gonna –who the fuck are all of you?”

Tony Stark looks… nothing like what you see in the papers. Granted, his face and hair look largely the same, but he’s not wearing the crisp, stylish suits that all the magazines, articles, papers, and interviews feature him wearing. He’s got on a worn, holey Metallica shirt, ripped, grease stained jeans, and a pair of scuffed sneakers that look like they might’ve been purchased ten years ago, for all that they’re barely holding together.

The army of security bots hovering and whirring around him, however, do fit his press image.

“Jon Snow!” Wade chirps, waggling his fingers at the harried “genius-billionaire-playboy-philanthropist.” “Long time, no talk. How’s Daenerys doing?”

“Summers, would you do me a favor and put your psychopath on a leash?” Tony asks, tone less than polite or pleasant as he focuses on Nate. “Preferably a nice short one that’s far away from me?”

“We’re here to talk,” Nathan says –though he does stop Wade from trying to play with the knives in the block on the kitchen counter. “It’s a matter of life and death. The well-being of the entire universe is at stake.”

“Yeah, been there, done that,” Tony says, looking none too impressed.

“One of your colleagues may have mentioned his name,” Kronos interjects, taking a step forward. “Does the word ‘Thanos’ ring any bells?”

Tony’s expression sobers for an instant, but he hides it quickly enough. “This is private property, and you’re all—”

A red being with a green suit and a yellow gem in the center of his forehead emerges from the floor. He places himself between Tony and the rest of you. “Would you like me to escort them out, Mr. Stark?”

“Ah, Casper the Friendly Android with No Concept of Personal Boundaries Despite the Infinite Knowledge!” Wade fires back, waving cheerfully. “How you doing, twenty-twenty?”

Vision sighs, longsuffering. “You have been expressly forbidden from these premises, Mr. Wilson.”

“Unless he’s here under my direct supervision,” Nathan fires back. “Stark, we need to talk about this—”

“Tony?” A tall, elegant woman with red hair wearing a tailored, navy blue dress walks up behind the man in question. She flashes you all a polite smile, but there’s no missing the way her gaze cautiously assesses each one of you. “I’m guessing these aren’t –oh. Wade’s here.”

Wade waves in response. “Hi, Miss Potts! How’s being a CEO?”

“It’s going very well, thank you,” Pepper replies politely –though, this time, she’s scanning the room for missing objects and-or visible damage. When nothing turns up, she looks back at Tony. “Are we escorting them out?”

“They claim to have information about the end of the world,” Tony says, tone flippant –though the grave expression on his face belies his snark. “About Thanos.”

Recognition flashes over Pepper’s face, though her polite mask never fully slips. She nods, then says, “Are we going to listen to them?”

“Probably should,” Tony replies in the same lackadaisical tone. “I’m not turning off the security drones while Wilson’s here, though.”

“Just for that, I’m pissing in your Ficus before I leave,” Wade huffs.

“That seems like it’s for the best,” Pepper tells Tony, smiling going tight at the edges while she stares at Wade. She takes a breath, steeling herself, then steps past Tony and nods at the rest of you in greeting. “Sorry for the confusion. Would you mind coming with us, so we can talk somewhere more comfortable?”

***

“I started connecting the dots after Thor left,” Tony explains, twirling a pencil between his fingers as he paces back and forth. “He mentioned Thanos briefly –but with the destruction and repurposing of Loki’s staff, the straggling records of Dormammu’s attack and the use of the Time Stone by Strange, the roles that the Tesseract and Loki’s staff played in the attack on New York by the Chitauri…” He sighs, pausing to stare out at the window at some unseen object before grimacing and shrugging. “It wasn’t hard to figure out.”

You’re all gathered in a conference room –which, as with the kitchen, carries the same modern, sleek style. Floor to ceiling windows show off the training grounds and the forest that conceals the base from the rest of the world. A massive plasma TV takes up one of the far walls, while the other walls are taken up by various dormant, holographic and electronic displays (made by Stark himself, no doubt). A black, oblong table sits in the center of the room, with leather, silver studded swivel chairs positioned around it.

“How many are there?” Tony asks, looking first at Kronos, then at Nathan. “How much time do we have?”

“There are six Infinity Stones in total,” Kronos says. “Thanos already has three –the Space stone, which was contained by the Tesseract, the Reality stone and the Power stone. Your colleague, Vision—” he gestures to the android “—is in possession of the Mind Stone already, and Stephen Strange has the Time Stone. Our agents have been unable to confirm the whereabouts of the Soul Stone, but we’re certain that Thanos doesn’t have it.”

“Yet,” Tony adds, tone pessimistic.

“As far as time goes, we have a few days at most,” Nathan says, crossing his arms over his chest. “Maybe a week, if we’re lucky.”

Tony grimaces. “That doesn’t bode well for rebuilding international relations on a dime. Or team morale for that matter.”

“Sort it out,” Nathan gravels out. “We’ve got bigger issues.”

“We won’t have time for issues if we can’t even pull a team together,” Tony snaps.

“If it helps…” Kronos withdraws a flash drive from his jacket pocket and holds it out to Tony. “The evidence of Thanos’s collection of the stones and his plans to come here.”

Tony accepts the flash drive. He turns it over in his fingers a couple times –no doubt mentally comparing the drive to the technology he’s created—then pockets it. “And Xavier’s on board with all this?”

You blink when you realize everyone’s staring at you. “Uh –yes. He’s contacting Erik Lensherr for some additional support, and the rest of the X-Men are ready to take on Thanos as well.”

“Great.” Tony stares down at the table for a moment, expression slightly melancholy but otherwise inscrutable, but then he snaps back to his usual self. “Good meeting. I’ll text you with the details.”

“Ooh, does that mean we’re trading numbers?” Wade gasps, pressing his hands on either side of his face. “I’ll put you on my favorites list.”

“I’ll contact Xavier,” Tony amends, shooting Wade a slightly harried look.

“We’ll be ready,” you assure him, at a loss for what else to say as you hook your arm around Wade’s to keep him from messing with the holographic display system.

“Vision will escort you out,” Pepper says with a polite smile and nod.

“I’ll make you a friendship bracelet, Tony the Tiger!” Wade calls as you and Nathan gently usher him towards the door. “Wait –stop shoving me! I need to get his wrist size!”

“Later, gorgeous,” Nate says with a barely suppressed smile.

Under any other circumstances, you’d laugh, but the stony foreboding weighing down your gut makes it too hard to even muster up a chuckle –especially when you catch Tony slumping down into one of the conference room chairs with a despairing expression on his face. You force yourself to focus on getting Wade out of the Avenger’s headquarters without stealing anything –though that does little to calm your swirling thoughts. How in the hell are we gonna pull this off?

***

“Are you okay?”

You sigh, instinctively wriggling back against Piotr’s chest as he lays down behind you. “Define ‘okay.’”

It’s nearly midnight now. Between contacting other allies for help –Nathan had you all bodysliding around New York for the better part of the day to reach out to the Hell’s Kitchen figures—and learning up about Thanos’s army and what could be expected in a confrontation against him, you didn’t get home until well after dinner.

You’re in bed now, too tired for anything else. You stare out the windows that overlook the balcony, purposefully trying to keep your mind blank so you don’t grow overwhelmed by the chaos buzzing in your brain.

Because this is insane. This is beyond mutant trafficking or petty grievances between groups of mutant rivals or even being gunned down by the mafia. This is beyond abusive parents, groups of hateful bigots, or anti-mutant legislators.

It’s –quite literally—the fate of the entire world. The entire galaxy. Based on Nathan’s reports of the future, half of all life is wiped out. People, animals, plants –all gone, dissolved into piles of ash… and for what? So some egomaniac can have his moment of glory?

Your stomach curdles when you even try to contemplate a life without Piotr.

“Hey.” Piotr draws you in close when you start crying. “Tische, myshka. Everything is okay.”

“But it’s not.” You sniff, wiping at your eyes with your sleeve. “Nothing about this is fucking okay, Piotr. Someone’s gonna wipe out half of the damn universe because he wants to jerk off to it later.”

“He has to go through us, first,” Piotr reminds you as he presses soft, sweet kisses against your cheek.

“We don’t have the numbers,” you point out bleakly. “We don’t have the ammunition. We don’t have the time to make a solid plan, or to prepare any extra defenses, or—”

Piotr hugs you tight. He kisses the top of your head. His hand strokes up and down your arm in an attempt to soothe you.

You grip his other hand, holding him close to you. You focus on how warm and solid he is. How wonderful he is and how lovely your life is with him. “I love you, Piotr.”

“And I love you, Y/N.”

You squeeze your eyes shut and cry some more.

***

The call comes in at five thirty in the morning.

“Stark’s brought around the other Avengers and Wakanda,” Nathan says, sounding far more alert than you ever will at this godforsaken hour. “We’re lifting off at seven.”

“Roger that,” you manage while Piotr turns on the bedside lamp and blinks the sleep out of his eyes. “We’ll be ready.” You set down your phone when the call ends, then groan and drop your head into your pillow. Why can’t the end of the world ever happen in the afternoon?

***

The Blackbird jets are loaded to maximum capacity. Aside from carrying the X-Men and the X-Force exclusive members, you’re also ferrying the Hell’s Kitchen vigilantes, Piotr’s family and Allison, your uncle and his team, and the younger children and their parents to Wakanda for safe-keeping (your uncle’s reasoning was that an enemy of the institute might notice the sudden lack of protection and decide to attack the younger, more vulnerable students and their families for vengeance, so it was better to be safe than sorry).

You keep close to Piotr or to the cockpit, but there’s still no avoiding the tense, cramped feeling.

You’re not the only “birds” in the sky, either. It’s practically a whole convoy, flying out to Wakanda in what might’ve been a formation if Wade didn’t occasionally grab the control and try to do a “barrel roll.” Magneto and his forces are flying in their own airship, while the Avengers are leading their pack in Tony’s custom, “cutting edge of technology” jets.

You watch the small fleet of jets that belong to the Avengers, lips pursed into a tight line. Your gaze darts over to the navigation board every few seconds, tracking your miniscule progress across the Atlantic Ocean towards Wakanda.

There’s a heavy sigh behind you, and then an even heavier pair of arms settle around your shoulders. “Myshka. You should rest.”

You “hmm” softly to let Piotr know you heard him, but you don’t step away from the cockpit door.

He kisses the top of head and starts gently rubbing your neck with his thumbs. “Will be several hours before arrival, dorogoy. There is nothing you can do until then.”

“It feels like wasting time,” you murmur back –because, naturally, Piotr’s seen to the heart of the issue already. “We’ve got so much to do.”

“And we can do nothing until we arrive in Wakanda.” Piotr kisses your temple, then gently nudges you away from the cockpit. “Come sit with me, lyublyu. You will need full energy when we land.”

And that, above all else, is the only reason you let Piotr usher you over to the nearest seat.

You crawl into his lap once he sits, curling up in his arms. You lay your head on his shoulder and let his warmth combined with the gentle thrum of the jet’s sonic engines lull you to sleep.

***

Wakanda is simultaneously everything and nothing like what you expected.

There’s a force shield that surrounds the inner part of the country that gives way as the convoy of ships pass through it. It almost seems to shimmer out of view before revealing an elegant, shining palace and curved, glimmering towers that comprise the larger part of the city. Lush jungle and towering, ice-capped mountains border the city, split by a winding river and rushing waterfalls.

It almost looks too beautiful to be real.

The awe-inducing visuals and technology don’t stop as the convoy flies out to a glittering, black glass structure that, on the navigation board, is labeled as the lab of Princess Shuri. The convoy swoops around to a massive hangar at the base of the building, landing just inside on the polished stone and metal floor.

Waiting for all of you in the hangar is King T’Challa Udaku; he’s wearing a black robe embroidered with silver thread and a vibrant kente scarf, and generally looks every bit as poised and unflappable as he did in the UN interviews. He’s flanked by his Dora Milaje soldiers –who are undeniably badass with their armor and spears, and you catch Ellie, Yukio, and Kitty all staring at the women in awe—and his partner, Nakia, and his sister, Princess Shuri.

Tony and Professor Xavier handle the introductions with the King, which lets you stretch and take in the hangar and throngs of superheroes. You recognize a few of them –Captain America aka Steve Rogers, Ant-Man aka Scott Lang and his entourage --including a man with dark hair styled like Elvis that you recall seeing in some sort of news interview a while back and a young woman with curly brown hair and warm eyes that’s holding his hand-- and War Hero ,aka James Rhodes, aka Tony’s best friend and “work wife”—but some of the entourage members are new to you.

You take a moment to stretch out your back –sleeping in Piotr’s lap isn’t the worst quality rest you’ve ever had, but given the configurations of the jet seats it was a little cramped—and admire the glimmering, inlaid lights on the hangar ceiling. Swanky.

“We have space prepared for the upcoming preparations and hosting all of you,” T’Challa says, voice cutting through the din of the crowd with ease. “If you would all follow Princess Shuri, please.”

Shuri smiles, then motions for everyone to follow her out of the hangar.

Half of the Dora Milaje break away from the formation, keeping a protective line between the princess and everyone else.

You fall into stride alongside your husband, well-practiced by now at matching your steps to his long stride.

***

The “prepared space” winds up being three massive rooms, each with smaller rooms sectioned around the main spaces, a kitchen-slash-rec area that joins the three massive rooms in the center, and three large, communal style bathrooms with multiple stalls for toilets and showers. The main rooms have several long, workstation style tables at them, with some beds stationed at the fringes, and the smaller rooms function only as bedrooms, mostly for the families with kids and the handful of couples present.

“This interface,” Princess Shuri says as she taps on a small disk embedded into the wall, “will let you contact security and staff if you have questions or need to speak with someone. There’s one in each room, for easy access. It will begin glowing and beeping if someone’s trying to send a call to you; you answer by pressing the base,” she explains, demonstrating on the disk.

“We’re expecting another group of people,” Tony pipes up. “Strange is collecting some of our allies from the South Eastern Quadrant. They should be here in the next sixteen hours, give or take.”

Shuri nods. “We’ll contact you when they arrive.” She offers the group a magnanimous nod and smile, then strides out the hall you all entered through, flanked by the Dora Milaje soldiers.

For a moment, no one moves. You all stand around, hesitating as you all try to take in the new scenery and space.

Alex moves first. She sighs, then grabs her duffel and strides towards the nearest workroom. “No point in waiting.”

Her initiative seems to jolt everyone else out of their daze. Everyone sections off, largely sticking with the groups of their original affiliation.

You amble alongside Piotr, peering around the workroom as you try to decide where to set your pack. Here goes nothing.

***

We’re staring down the apocalypse, you muse as you watch everyone set up shop, and it’s all coming down to sewing machines.

It’d come as a shock when Alexandra had lugged the sleek, white machine out of its carrying case. She’d set it on one of the tables, then lifted bolts of thick, rugged Kevlar out of one of her duffels next. Thread, scissors, measuring tape, and gridded cutting boards follow the Kevlar—

And then the sewing machine jammed as soon as Alex turned it on.

“Ty meshok der'ma,” Alex mutters under her breath as she fiddles with the internal mechanisms of the sewing machine. She glares at the gears, grumbling and swearing while she prods at them with a pair of tweezers. “Kakogo khrena tvoya problema?”

The situation seems mundane in its inanity.

The end of the damn world, and we’re being thwarted by twenty pounds of plastic and metal.

“Day mne poprobovat'.” Nikolai crouches down next to his wife. He adjusts the reading glasses perched on his nose, then aims a small flashlight at the interior of the machine. He murmurs and tuts in Russian while prodding at the machine –and then he makes a soft noise of exclamation. “Broken needle. Pryamo tam.”

“Sukin syn.” Alex uses her telekinesis to draw out the metal shard, then lets out an exasperated sigh and spreads her arms when the machine finally makes the proper start up noises. “Thank you.”

“Be nice,” Nikolai chides her with a teasing grin. “Is uncomfortable, having metal stuck in organs. You would not want to work either.”

“I’ve had metal in my organs,” Alex grumbles as she gets her sewing machine configured. “I still managed.” She smirks when Nikolai laughs, then kisses her husband’s cheek before motioning for you to approach. “Come here, ptitsa. I want to reinforce your suit; I need your measurements.”

You round the table, shucking off your sweatshirt so Alex can measure your torso. “Is there anything I need to do?”

“Just hold still, malenkiy,” Alex murmurs as she runs her tape measure around your waist.

“I make no promises,” you joke.

Alex snorts, then moves her measuring tape up to your ribcage.

***

The waiting is, somehow, worse now.

At least on the plan there was a promise of a destination. A sense of the temporary, that you’d be up and moving and doing again within a few hours.

Unfortunately, reality is so often different from how you envision it, just as it is now. Because the reality of the situation is that there are only a limited number of people capable of helping. Nate and Tony are working with the Princess to configure weapons to fight Thanos’s forces, Hank and the healers are preparing a makeshift medical bay, Frank, Wade, Mikhail, and Neena are cleaning and checking guns, Alex, Piotr and Nikolai are taking turns working on fabricating armor for those who need it—

Leaving you with nothing to do. Aside from keeping those who are working well fed and hydrated and managing the kids, all you can do is sit and watch while everyone else prepares.

It’s agony. Your chest aches from stress, and your stomach’s churning so much you can barely choke food down at mealtimes. I need to help more. I need to do something, dammit.

It’s like being in line for random execution and having no idea whether you’re going to be shot or not.

You stay close to Piotr. You run food and snacks and drinks for anyone who needs it. You help manage the kids when the need arises –but since most of their parents are here, the incidents are far and few between.

You sit. And you wait.

It’s all you can do.

***

“Absolutely not.”

“You need to be reasonable.”

“I am. It’s perfectly reasonable to keep a fourteen-year-old off a fucking battlefield!”

Alex sighs. She leans back in her seat and raises an eyebrow at her eldest daughter. “Normally I would agree, but I don’t think you’ll have much say in the matter. Your ability to control her is notably lacking.”

Artemis huffs and crosses her arms over her chest. “You try reining in a teenager who’s realized there’s no consequences to her actions.”

“I’m not judging, merely observing,” Alex assures her daughter. “But, at any rate, it’s not unreasonable to predict that she’ll join the fray at some point. Body armor is a necessity.”

“It’s an invitation! She’ll take it as permission!”

“Artemis?” Allison sticks her head into the room, then strides over to her mentor-slash-surrogate mother. “Is everything okay? Who’s getting permission to do what?”

“No one is,” Artemis grumbles, even as she holds her arm out so the teen can lean against her side. “Especially not you.”

Allison lets out a disgusted sigh and rolls her eyes. “I already told you—”

“You’re not fighting.”

“I can handle myself!” Allison snaps. She jerks away from Tatianna, scowling. “You’re treating me like a baby!”

“Compared to me, you are a baby,” the older woman points out drily.

“It’s not your burden to bear,” Alex interjects, fixing the testy teen with an even –though not harsh—stare. “Teenagers shouldn’t have to fight for the future of the world. That’s for adults to handle.”

“No one gets to decide,” Allison grits out, “what my burdens are. And this isn’t about ‘should’ or ‘shouldn’t.’”

The corner of Alex’s mouth twitches. She looks up at Artemis, brows raised.

Artemis sighs. She tips her head back, staring up at the ceiling, then looks down at Allison. “You need body armor to keep you safe. That does not mean, however, that you’ll be joining us in the fight against Thanos.”

Allison sweeps her tongue along the inside of her cheek. She crosses her arms and cocks her head to the side. “Pretty sure you don’t get to decide that.”

“Pretty sure you should listen to me,” Artemis fires back, “since I have more experience and am telling you that it’s too much for you to handle.” She lets out an exasperated breath when Allison rolls her eyes, then waves her hand dismissively as if to say ‘I tried.’ “Get her set up.”

Alex nods, then waves Allison over. “Alright, malenkiy. Let’s get you sorted.”

***

“Are you asleep?”

“Nyet.” Piotr rolls over, drapes an arm over you, and kisses your forehead. “I would ask you the same, but…”

You manage a small chuckle. “Pretty obvious answer, yeah.”

The two of you are in one of the private rooms –if only because (aside from your status as married) it has a bed big enough to accommodate Piotr. There’s a small window that overlooks a cavern beneath the lab. Dim, blue light seeps through the glass pane, but it’s not enough to properly illuminate the room.

Piotr’s fingers skim over your upper arm. “Why are you not sleeping, myshka?”

“Can’t,” you admit, voice wavering. You take a deep breath through your nose and try to calm yourself. “I just… I can’t handle not doing anything. It gives me too much time to think about what might happen.”

Piotr croons gently, drawing you in closer so he can tuck you against his chest. He cradles your head with one massive head. “Dorogoy. You know such things are not good for you.”

“Yeah, I know,” you grumble, eyes stinging with unshed tears. “Doesn’t mean that knowledge stops my brain any.”

“Ya znayu,” Piotr murmurs as he kisses your temple. “But everything is going to be alright, myshka.”

“Except it really might not be,” you argue, voice shaking. You grip the material of his shirt, as though he might be wrenched away from you at any moment and whisked away into the wind. “It really might not, Piotr.”

Your husband doesn’t say anything in response to that. He merely holds you closer still and strokes his fingers through your hair.

You press your forehead against his chest and start weeping quietly.

***

The second day is much like the first –a slow, agonizing crawl punctuated by overwhelming anxiety and exhaustion.

You linger at the table where Nate, Tony, and Ellie are modifying guns, handing the three various tools and materials when they ask for it. You watch their progress numbly, brain devoid of anything other than wordless worry.

At least, you watch until Nate texts Piotr to come get you.

“Davay, myshka,” your husband coaxes as he lifts you off your stool. He grunts slightly as he shifts you into a bridal-style hold, then carries you away from the table and out of the room. “Let’s have lunch.”

“But—”

“Is important to stay fed and hydrated.”

“—I was helping.” You peer past Piotr’s arm –then sigh when Nathan gives you a sympathetic, concerned smile and waves you along. “Baby—”

“Just for little bit.” Piotr sets you down when you ask, but he keeps a hand on your shoulder, just in case. “Is not good to sit and stew in anxiety.”

You drop your gaze to the floor. “You can’t prove anything.”

Piotr lifts his hand from your shoulder and cradles your cheek. He strokes his thumb against your skin, waiting until you look up at him before speaking again. “Come have lunch with me, moya lyubov’,” he says with an adoring smile (which you’re certain is a deliberate, tactical move on his part to make sure you don’t try and argue, and dammit if it isn’t working). “I would enjoy your company.”

You scuff the toe of your sneaker against the floor, but ultimately acquiesce. “Alright. I guess I should take a break.”

***

The snooping starts after lunch, while Alex is chewing Frank out for spray-painting his bullet proof vest.

“What, are you looking to ruin perfectly good Kevlar?” Alex gripes as she tosses Frank’s “Punisher” vest aside. “You want to break down the material? Get shot out like some schmuck because you decided to be an artist?”

“It’s strategic,” Frank argues with a good-natured, crooked grin. “Keeps my enemies’ line of sight trained on where I have the most protection.”

Alex nods and makes a sarcastic noise of assent. “‘Strategic.’ Is that what it is? Ya ne mogu v eto poverit'. V moye vremya my nazyvali strategiyu pobedoy, a ne stavili svoyu grebanuyu vizitnuyu kartochku na kazhdoye sovershennoye nami proklyatoye ubiystvo. Get your ass over here, drama boy.” She scoffs and starts measuring Frank’s chest and shoulders. “‘Strategiya,’” she scoffs. “What a load of horse shit.”

“Akh akh,” Nikolai tuts as he walks into the room with a plate of food and glass of water. “What is happening here?”

“I’m pretty sure I upset the apple cart, sir,” Frank says, unabashed.

Nikolai chuckles while Alexandra brings up to speed, ranting in irritated Russian. He sets the plate and glass on the table next to his wife, kisses her head, then ambles back out to the kitchen—

And that’s when you notice it. Or, rather, her.

Natasha Romanoff, aka the Black Widow. Renowned spy, assassin, weapons and espionage expert, and former member of the Avengers if the debacle surrounding the Sokovia Accords is to be believed.

She’s sitting at the kitchen counter on barstool, tapping away at her phone –which isn’t inherently suspicious, but her line of sight lets her look directly into the room you’re all situated in and—

She’s watching Alex.

At first you think she might be watching Frank (which, fair enough, having a mass murderer, somewhat unstable vigilante around is a reasonable cause for caution). But when Frank gets up and walks out (probably to go find Karen), Natasha doesn’t even move. Her gaze –when she’s not looking at her phone—stays fixed on Alexandra while she works at her sewing machine.

For once, you’re grateful Piotr is as large as he is; he makes a great hiding spot to do countersurveillance from.

Natasha approaches slowly, but deliberately. She talks to someone on her phone –whether she’s faking or not doesn’t matter to you, because she still uses it to get off the barstool and amble around while she’s talking. Then, she has a conversation with Captain Rogers, which she uses to get a few feet closer to the doorway.

At some point, you’re not certain if she realizes you’re watching her, only because she gives up the pretense of trying to hide her snooping entirely. She leans against the doorframe, watching Alex intently while she marks, pins, and cuts out fabric.

It’s Illyana who has enough of the whole thing first. Three minutes into Natasha standing in the door way, the blonde sighs, sets her phone down on the work table, and glares up at the red head. “Kakogo khrena ty khochesh?”

Natasha purses her lips slightly. She acknowledges Illyana with a brief glance, then turns her focus back to Alex. “Alexandra.”

“Natalia,” Alex says by way of greeting, not even bothering to look up from her work. “Are you here to help, or are you here to waste my time?”

She grimaces, but recovers and smiles politely. “It’s been a long time.”

“So, you’re here to waste my time,” Alex surmises as she pins a pattern to a piece of heavy black Kevlar.

Natasha swallows reflexively, then turns on her heel and walks away.

***

Half an hour later, it’s Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes’s turn.

The two supersoldiers are far less covert than Agent Romanoff. They stand in the middle of the rec room, a few feet away from the door, and don’t make any attempt to hide their conversation or the fact that they’re watching Alex (and, to some extent, her children and Nikolai as well).

Illyana says something to her mother a few times, but Alex waves her off –and, in general, seems unbothered. “U nas yest' rabota, snezhinka. U nas yest' rabota.”

“Did you know him?” you ask, later, when the Rasputin kids are out of the room. “The Winter Soldier?”

You’ve heard enough through the grapevine to know about the basics of the man’s story –captured by Hydra, experimentation, brainwashing, being coerced into murdering.

(It all sounds chillingly familiar.)

“We crossed paths,” Alex admits with a shrug. She slides a piece of ceramic armor plating inside a Kevlar pouch, then starts sewing the pouch shut. “Overlap was common back in the day.”

“Do you think he remembers you?” you murmur, glancing out at the kitchen (fortunately, Rogers and Barnes are gone for now).

Alex pauses. She purses her lips, then shrugs and resumes working. “I don’t know. He went through a lot with the forced mind wipes. There’s really no way of knowing.”

“Are you going to be in trouble if he does remember you?”

Alex huffs and favors you with a gentle smile. “I’ve gotten out of worse, ptitsa. Don’t worry so much.”

You say that like it’s easy, you think while the knot in your stomach coils tighter.

***

There’s a brief reprieve around dinner. You even manage to relax a little, smiling and chuckling as Piotr and Mikhail bicker and generally irritate each other as much as humanly possible.

Work starts up once more as soon as everyone’s done eating. You nestle yourself against Piotr’s side, relaxed via the virtue of being too tired to be stressed—

And then Tony Stark walks in.

Or perhaps “walk” isn’t the right term. He moves with an air of grandeur and utter self-assurance –which, even with your limited exposure to Tony Stark, you can tell is a “brand standard” for him. He tosses an apple up and down in one hand as he breezes along, expression blasé to the point of looking disinterested as he strides up to the table where Alexandra works.

If it weren’t for Natasha, Captain Rogers, and Sergeant Barnes scoping out the Rasputin matriarch earlier, you would’ve pegged Stark’s visit as entirely coincidental.

“What’s your deal?” Tony asks, leaning against the table next to where Alex is stationed at her sewing machine.

No pretense. No niceties. No attempt at subtlety.

Alex’s lips quirk into an annoyed grimace. She looks up and over the top of her machine for a moment, staring at Nikolai (likely trying to find any scrap of his infinite patience for herself), then lowers her gaze once more and says, “Usually, it’s not answering vague, pointless questions asked by nosey individuals.”

“You’ve got half my team twisted up just by being here,” Tony continues, unruffled. “I’ve seen Romanoff stare down the Hulk on a rampage without flinching. What about you is so special that you make her nervous?”

“Interesting,” Alex comments, almost to herself. “And here I thought, after the Berlin incident, your ‘team’ was largely disbanded. Something about ‘not agreeing with your leadership.’”

Tony’s face twitches, mouth briefly stretching into a pained grimace before he smooths it back out. “You don’t exist.”

“Everyone’s concept of self is different,” Alex mutters as she rips out a crooked seam on an armor pouch.

“There’s no record of your birth. Or your parents, for that matter. Your marriage license has no given maiden name. No history of education, doctor’s visits, driver’s license –nothing until you turned twenty-four.” He takes a bite of his apple, swallows, then says, “People don’t just ‘poof’ into existence as full grown adults. It doesn’t happen.”

“Perhaps,” Alex retorts as she resews the faulty seam, “you are just not very good at finding things.”

“I can find anything.”

“Except, it would seem, a way to keep from trying my patience.”

Tony watches her for a moment longer –then, when she doesn’t say anything, he turns and starts striding out of the room. “I’m going to figure out what’s up with you. There aren’t any secrets that can hide from my A.I.”

Alex doesn’t dignify his departure with a response –but her eyelid twitches as she continues her sewing.

You look up at Piotr, only to find he’s watching Nikolai. You look over at the Rasputin patriarch, and your heart sinks when you see the worried expression on his face.

Nick sighs, then stands and rounds the table. He ambles up behind his wife, drapes his arms around her shoulders, and kisses the top of her head before he starts murmuring to her in quiet, loving Russian.

You lean against Piotr’s side, giving him a reassuring squeeze even though the only thing you feel is disquieted. You force yourself to take a deep breath and relax your jaw as fear starts crawling up your spine once more. One thing at a time. One thing at a time, that’s all you can do.

Except, it seems, when everything decides to happen at once.

***

Meeting the Norse god of thunder is… intense.

Though, that may have to do with the entourage of people he brings with him.

Around three in the morning, Dr. Strange shows up with the remaining allies –Thor, god of thunder, and his brother Loki, god of magic, Bruce Banner aka the Hulk, a woman by the name of Carol, and a group that calls themselves the “Guardians of the Galaxy” (which happens to include a talking raccoon and a sentient tree).

“Just when you thought, like, it couldn’t get weirder,” Kitty mutters to you as she stares at the newest arrivals.

You nod. Granted, your usual metric for all things weird is Wade, who has basically explored every avenue of zany, bizarre, and disturbing—

But yeah, this is pretty fucking weird.

“Where do we stand in preparations for the arrival of Thanos?” Thor asks Tony.

“We’ve got most of the busywork done,” Tony says, outlining the weapons upgrades and the armor work that’s been done. “We waited for major planning until we had everyone here and better intel.”

Thor nods, then gestures to two women standing with the “Guardians of the Galaxy,” one with green skin and dark hair and the other with blue skin and cybernetic enhancements. “This is Gamora and Nebula, daughters of Thanos. They’ll be able to provide information on the strength and size of his forces.”

“Good,” Steve pipes up from where he’s standing with Sam Wilson and Sergeant Barnes. “The sooner we have a plan, the better.”

“It can wait until we’ve slept,” Alex decides, voice crisp. “We won’t come up with anything good while we’re fried.”

Tony blinks, then scowls. “Thanos could be here as soon as this coming morning.”

“Then we’ll be doubly fucked if we’ve stayed up all night trying to scrape together a plan,” Alex replies, unmoved. She crosses her arms when Tony glares at her. “The younger and less experienced of us need rest if this is going to work.”

“I’m with the lady,” Quill pipes up, brushing past Tony. He gives Stark a smile that, if you had to wager, is supposed to be charming but just comes off as arrogant. “I think you’ll find that we… don’t really roll with plans. It’s not our style.”

Alex stares at Quill for a moment, expression vastly unimpressed. She sighs, blinks slowly, shakes her head, then turns on her heel and strides back to the room she’s been sharing with Nick. “Absolutely not. I’m going back to bed.”

As if waiting for a cue, everyone else disperses, muttering about being tired and “needing an IV drip of espresso.”

You shuffle off with Piotr, hand in hand, shivering slightly from nerves. Please just let this go well.

***

“Both the Chitauri and the Klyntaar forces number into the tens of thousands. The Chitauri have sentient airships capable of carrying infantry forces while wreaking their own havoc, in addition to chariots that can carry up to five marksmen at a time. He also has tanks the size of this building that can demolish anything in their path.”

Everyone is gathered in one of the main work rooms. A majority of the people present hang back at the fringes, content to watch while Tony, Captain Rogers, King T’Challa, Alexandra, your uncle, Thor, Quill, and Natasha hash out a strategy.

“He’s trying to overwhelm us with sheer numbers,” Steve says in response to Gamora’s information.

“It might work,” Natasha murmurs, gaze focused on the worktable in front of her. “We don’t have near enough firepower to chip away at that many grunts.”

“Not if we play our cards right,” Alex says, crossing her arms over her chest.

“There’s also our siblings,” Gamora adds with a pained grimace.

Off to the side, Nebula scoffs. “They’re hardly family.”

“Thanos collected beings throughout the galaxy to serve him,” Gamora explains. “To act as his eyes and ears and eliminate his foes. Aside from Nebula and I, he has four other ‘children.’ They’ll be acting as his generals and commanders in the fight –and helping him track down and capture the final infinity stones.”

Tension ripples through the room.

“What do we know about these Infinity Stones?” Alex asks after a moment of fraught silence.

“The stones were originally created by the Celestials,” Loki pipes up from where he’s leaning against a wall. “Their magical properties are tied to aspects of the universe –time, space, reality, and so on. Only beings of immense power can wield them without severe consequences.”

“Thanos has the gauntlet that accompanies the stones,” Thor adds. “With it, once he assembles all six stones, he’ll be able to use them simultaneously.”

“He wants to wipe out half of all life on Earth,” Gamora says, voice wavering slightly. “That’s been his single goal ever since I’ve known him.”

“All men want to be gods,” your uncle jokes half-heartedly.

“Can the stones be broken?” Alex asks.

Loki chuckles, incredulous. “These are magical tools created by the most powerful beings ever known to the galaxy… and you want to break them?”

She shrugs. “Best not to overlook the simplest solution.”

“I’m taking that as a ‘no,’” Steve interjects. “So, if we can’t destroy them, how do we fight them?”

“The only thing powerful enough to combat the effects of the Infinity Stones are the Infinity Stones,” Loki answers.

“And we only have two,” Natasha surmises, expression drawn and grim.

“Three.”

Everyone looks up and turns when Illyana speaks.

She smirks, tilting her chin up when Natasha meets her gaze. “We have three Infinity Stones.”

“Vision has the mind stone, and Dr. Strange has the time stone,” Kronos argues, shaking his head. “The soul stone is still missing.”

Illyana’s smirk broadens. She lifts her hand, curling it as if she was holding something.

A sword materializes in her hand –and in the center of the sword, small but unmistakable, is a glowing orange gem.

Your uncle’s eyes widen. “Holy shit.”

“Three,” Illyana repeats, looking supremely confident and self-satisfied. “Unless there is elusive seventh stone?”

Loki smiles ruefully, shaking his head. “The Goddess of Limbo pulls through. Well done.”

“Okay, but Vision’s stone is in his head and Strange has his stone in a necklace around his neck,” Tony interjects, gesturing to each person in turn.

“Amulet,” Dr. Strange mutters under his breath.

“Your stone disappears if you’re not holding it,” Tony continues, pointing to the sword as Illyana dematerializes it once more. “What’s stopping Thanos from finding it and taking it?”

“I am only person who can use Soul Sword,” Illyana says, arching her eyebrows. “It is bound to me until the next in my line is ready to take my place.”

“My family has been bound to Limbo’s magicks for generations,” Nikolai clarifies when Tony starts sputtering. “Illyana is the keeper of the sword, which means only she can call upon it. Thanos would need our blood to have access to it.”

Tony grimaces. “Still risky.”

“Better than nothing,” your uncle fires back.

“We have a shot of taking down Thanos with the other three Infinity Stones in our camp,” Steve says, planting his hands against the worktable's surface. “Without them, we’re as good as sunk.”

“Well then,” Alex says, smirking. “Let’s make sure we don’t waste our opportunity.”

***

“For the love of god, stop talking.”

“I’m just saying,” Quill starts, spreading his hands in a defensive gesture.

“You’re not saying shit!” Alex snaps, lifting her head from her hands to glare at him. “You’re just wasting our time!”

Once the planning started, a large portion of the crowd dispersed to help wrap up the last of the weapons modification. The leaders from each faction stayed behind –Tony, T’Challa, Steve, Natasha, Thor, Peter Quill, Xavier, your uncle, Alexandra, and Erik—to plan, along with Gamora, Nebula, and Loki so they could offer up information on Thanos, his forces, and the Infinity Stones.

You’d also hung back, since you didn’t have the skills necessary to do the weapons modification. If all I can do is sit around like a nervous lump, may as well do it where I won’t be in the way.

“This plan just isn’t our style,” Quill argues, either immune or completely ignorant to the exasperated sighs and death glares the others are giving him. “We like to take things looser, add a little pizazz.”

“How many times did your parents drop you as a baby?” your uncle asks, staring Quill down. “No, I’m serious,” he adds when Quill glares back at him and opens his mouth to argue. “I’m genuinely at a loss for how you can be this fucking dense.”

“We’re up against overwhelming numbers and powers no one here has ever seen, let alone fought against,” Natasha adds. “We need to allocate our resources carefully if we want even a chance at victory. The three wave strategy is our best chance.”

“Okay,” Quill says, pressing his hands together. “I think we just all need to relax—”

“You’ll be pretty fucking relaxed when I gut you,” Alex grumbles as she pinches the bridge of her nose.

“Look, the way I see it, Thanos can’t take us all at once!” Quill reasons. “If we hit him with everything we have—”

“We have to survive his armies, too,” Tony adds, words clipped. “Or there won’t be any of us for Thanos to be hit by.”

“No.” Alex glares at Quill when he keeps trying to argue, startling him into silence. “Look at them.” She points at Gamora and Nebula. “These are your friends, da? Your teammates and companions, da? This is their abuser we’re facing. If we lose, what do you think happens to them? Do you think someone that wants to destroy half of all life will have mercy for them? Hm? If you care about them, you pick the plan that has the best shot of ensuring their safety. Got it?”

Quill swallows reflexively. He stares down at the holographic display of the future battlefield, jaw working. He exhales through his nose, slow and stuttered, then nods. “Alright. We… we do the three wave strategy.”

“So glad we can agree,” Alex says, turning her attention back to the battlefield schematic. “Now, we were discussing where to put our snipers…”

***

“—I need both their arms. Trust me, it’s the only way this is gonna work.”

“Look, I’m normally all for a little dismemberment, but I don’t think forming our own amputee league is gonna net us a win here.”

You shake your head as Wade banters back and forth with the talking racoon –whose name is Rocket, apparently—then look over at Nathan. “How long have they been at this?”

“Going on three hours now,” Nate replies. A soft, endeared smile flits across his face when he looks at Wade, but his expression sobers when he resumes his soldering job. “How’s the final plan looking?”

“Everyone but Quill was leaning towards a three-wave tactic.”

Nathan grunts. “Yeah, he seems like a jackass.”

“Alex threatened to gut him.”

“Hey!” Wade shouts, sounding genuinely wounded. “No disemboweling without me!”

“Quill wanted to do an ‘all for one’ attack directly on Thanos.” You sit down next to your dad, studying his face while he works. “You’ve actually fought against these people before. Do… do you think dividing our forces up will actually work?”

“The issue is the land and air forces,” Nathan says, shaking his head. He attaches a power unit to the base of a rifle, then starts welding the compartment shut. “This time doesn’t have the necessary shielding to repel the Chitauri and Klyntaar forces for that long. We’ll have to fight the grunts; holding some of our people back to make sure we have someone to take on Thanos is our best bet.”

“That doesn’t necessarily mean we’ll win, though,” you point out.

He offers you a melancholy half-smile. “That’s war, kid.”

Your heart sinks further. “Do we even have a chance?”

“Statistics says we do,” Nathan says he strips a piece of wire before threading it into the gun.

“That’s not what I asked.”

Nathan sighs. He looks at you for a long moment, then says, “I think we have the best shot possible with what we have right here, right now.”

You gulp, then nod. It’s still not technically an answer to your question –let alone a positive one—but…

You’ve learned that, sometimes, it better not to dig at these sorts of questions at all.

***

“We’re dividing our forces into thirds.”

You’re all crammed into the rec room post dinner. In the center of the room, by the counter, Tony, Steve, Natasha, and Alex are addressing the crowd in turns.

“The first wave will consist of high stamina fighters and snipers,” Steve says. “There’s a shield system that extends several hundred kilometers around the lab’s perimeter. Wakandan soldiers will join the line of snipers who will pick off any of Thanos’s forces that make it through the shields.”

“We’ll also have any fighters with enhanced stamina on standby, in case there’s a larger breach,” Alex adds. “Their job will be to protect the sniper line from being overrun by the enemy forces.”

“The second wave will be air support,” Tony continues. “Myself, Rhodey, Wilson, and any flying mutants will head out when the Chitauri airships come in. Princess Shuri has a fleet of attack drones at the ready, which can be manned from headquarters in the lab. HQ will have a complete look at the battlefield; all intel will be coming from them during the fight.”

“Third wave is everyone else, save for Illyana, Dr. Strange, and Vision,” Natasha says. “We’ll join the fray when the second wave of Thanos’s forces arrive. The final three” –she nods to Illyana, Dr. Strange, and Vision in turn—“will wait in central headquarters until Thanos arrives, to prevent early capture of the remaining Infinity Stones.”

“In the meantime,” Tony says, “we’re going overtime on modifying rifles to be sonic weapons. They’re more effective against the Klyntar forces than regular firearms. All hands on deck. If you can’t solder, you can run supplies back and forth and help perform diagnostic tests at the firing range. Clear?”

Everyone nods, then breaks off to start working on constructing and testing more “awesome guns.”

You slid your fingers between Piotr’s. Your heart’s in your throat, racing a mile a minute. Your mouth feels dry.

If you were the religious type, you’d start praying. As it is, you make a plea with the universe on the off chance it decides to listen to you –for once.

Please. Please just let this work.

***

“So… about the three-wave plan—”

Tony slams down the compartment piece he’d been working on against the table. He glares at Quill, face strained with barely constrained rage and impatience. “What the fuck is your deal?”

“It’s just not sitting well with me,” Quill continues, leaning against the table. “I’m more of a ‘solo moment’ style person. More of a lone wolf.”

You gape at him. “You… you work with a team of five!”

“I just think that there needs to be a more focused confrontation with Thanos. Y’know, for someone to challenge him, man to man—”

“Some get this idiot out of my face,” Tony snaps, looking around for anyone that might be willing to assist –or, at the very least, drag Quill out of the room by his jacket collar.

“You’re not listening to me!”

“You’re wasting my time!”

“Why does every problem come back to you?” Alex stalks into the work room, eyes glowing a dull shade of copper as irritation takes hold in her. She strides over to Quill, looking like a menace in black leather and Kevlar. “How much more of a nuisance can you possibly make yourself?”

“I’m just pointing out some flaws in the strategy!” Quill argues, holding up his hands in a defensive gesture. “I’m being the devil’s advocate!”

“You’re pointing out dick,” Agent Barton, alias Hawkeye, points out from the side (where he’s modifying some of his arrows to release sonic pulses).

“Look,” Quill presses on, ignoring Clint’s comment. “We need to make sure this thing is airtight—”

“We don’t have time for ‘airtight,’” Nathan growls, cybernetic eye flaring. “The goal is to survive, not to create perfection.”

“I really just think—”

Alex scowls –and then her hand snaps out and closes around Quill’s neck. She slams him against the edge of the table, sneering down at him while he coughs and claws –futilely—against her iron grip. “You’re past the point of being a nuisance. You’re a fucking liability.”

Quill wheezes, face slowly turning red.

“If I was paid every time a man like you told me how to do my job…” Her voice trails off, and she lets out a sardonic chuckle. “Let me make something clear to you, Peter Quill.” Her hand tightens around his neck, which makes some ominous creaking noises as she presses against layers of tissue, cartilage, and bone. “I am not about to have an asshole like you risk the lives of my children, the people who are putting their own lives on the line to protect the world, or the future of the damn universe. If you’re going to keep being a jackass about this…” She smirks. “I’ll kill you. I’ll do it right here, right now. I am not going to have a hazard like you on my team or on that battlefield.” She grins nastily, leaning in closer as Quill’s eyes bug out. “Best thing is, no one really knows you’re here. No tracks to cover, no family to pay off, no authorities to worry about. You’d be an unfortunate casualty in war. No one would fucking miss you.”

A chill runs down your spine. You gulp, stomach twisting as you look from Alex, to Quill, to Alex again. Is anyone going to stop her...

“I really don’t know how to make this any fucking clearer, but since you’ve proven to be thick-headed, I’ll summarize: you stray from the plan in any way, and you’re dead. Got it?”

Quill nods hastily. He gasps when Alex releases him, collapsing to the floor. He hacks and coughs, one hand rubbing at his throat while his skin slowly fades away from an angry magenta color.

“So glad we understand one another.” Alex smirks, then turns on her heel and strides out of the work room like nothing even happened.

You purse your lips, trembling while everyone goes back to work like nothing even happened. You try to focus on sorting pieces into containers for the fabricators to grab from, but with your shaking hands it’s near impossible. You duck your head, gritting your teeth together as your stomach churns angrily. I just want this all to be over.

***

The call comes in a couple hours later.

“We’ve got temporal disturbances outside the shield perimeter,” Kronos shouts while alarms blare overhead. “Thanos’s forces have arrived and are attempting to break through to our location.”

Your stomach drops as everyone starts scrambling. You grab your flight jacket and goggles, throwing them on haphazardly. You start running towards the hangar –then stop and switch directions. “Piotr!”

He pauses when he hears your voice, turning and catching you as you leap into his arms. He kisses you briefly –desperately—then pulls back and cups your face in his hands. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” You give him a quick hug, then pull away and start sprinting towards the hanger where the rest of the air support is gathering. Tears sting your eyes, but you wipe them away and force down your fear and preemptive grief. Focus. You have to focus.

It’s time.

[emospritelet]

Heatstroke - chapter 23/24

I was planning on this being the final chapter, but it got away from me, so it's the penultimate chapter instead :)

Last time, Gold and Lacey banged :D

Word count: 3,721

[AO3]

x

Gold made her dinner, fillet steak with a sauce made from beef stock, red wine and rosemary, alongside soft, creamy mashed potatoes and carrots glazed with butter. They drank wine with it, rich and red, and afterwards carried the dessert upstairs to bed, where they took turns spooning dark chocolate mousse and raspberries into their mouths until their lips were sticky and sweet. Gold watched as Lacey sucked the last of the chocolate mousse from her spoon and dropped it into the glass dish with a contented sigh.

“That,” she said. “Was pretty bloody amazing. You can definitely cook.”

“Thank you.”

He set the dish on the nightstand, handing her a glass of wine, and Lacey wriggled, sitting up against the pillows as she took it. Darcy had curled up at the end of the bed with his tail over his nose, and Lacey gestured at him with a foot.

“You do realise now he’s been up here, he’s probably gonna spend as much time sleeping in your bed as he does mine,” she said, and Gold grinned.

“I don’t mind that too much,” he said. “Maybe he’ll keep the mice away.”

“No sign of that so far,” she remarked. “Not that I’ve seen any mice. Only rats.”

“You’ve seen rats around here?” he asked, surprised, and she shrugged.

“I saw one the day I moved in,” she said. “Standing on his hind legs, bold as brass. Not the best welcome gift, to be honest.”

“I don’t suppose it was.”

“Yeah, Darcy came to get me to chase it off,” she said casually. “So if you’re hoping he’ll deal with any vermin that turn up, you’re out of luck. Turns out he’s a coward.”

Gold laughed.

“Well, he’s a very handsome coward,” he said. “If we get a rodent problem I can always deal with it another way. I can’t say I’ve seen any rats here, though.”

“I guess it might have wandered in from the forest,” she acknowledged. “I was worried there might be a nest of the little buggers, but I haven’t seen any since then. It was definitely male, though. All big balls and unimpressive cock.”

Gold blinked as a feeling of déjà vu washed over him.

“Really?” he asked neutrally.

“Yeah.” She wriggled onto her side, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Have you ever seen a rat’s balls? They’re huge!”

“I can’t say I’ve looked all that closely,” he said, and licked his lips. “Uh - you said his - other equipment - was somewhat lacking.”

“Yeah. Minuscule.” She held up her little finger. “Still, I guess they manage okay, right?”

“Right,” he said, and hesitated. “And this was the day you moved in?”

“As I was carrying my stuff in.”

“Uh-huh.” He sucked his teeth, nodding slowly. “You - didn’t happen to mention this to Miss Lucas in the bar that night, did you?”

“Huh.” Lacey pursed her lips, a vague expression on her face. “Yeah, I did. Why?”

Gold sighed heavily.

“Because I might have thought you were talking about me.”

Lacey stared at him for a moment, mouth slightly open, then burst out laughing. It bubbled out of her, washing over him as her eyes sparkled with mirth, and he felt a little of his awkwardness melt away.

“You thought I was telling Ruby about what you were packing?” she giggled, and he shrugged.

“Let’s just say I overheard your conversation and made some assumptions.”

“Yeah, well, that’s what you get for eavesdropping,” she said, and pushed up on her elbow. “Wish you hadn’t?”

“Yes,” he admitted.

“Good.” She planted a kiss on his cheek. “Because your assumptions were shit.”

“That happens more often than you might think,” he said, and she giggled again.

“Oh, but I’m definitely telling Ruby about your junk now,” she said, and winked at him. “She did ask for a blow by blow description if you and I ever got up to anything.”

“In that case.” Gold put down his wine. “I’d better give you lots to talk about.”

-

Lacey stretched, eyes closed, mouth widening in a grin as she felt the press of hot flesh against her own. She was nestled in soft sheets, Gold’s arm around her waist and his cool breath on the back of her neck, making her shudder in pleasure. Morning light was shining through a tiny gap in the curtains, sending a shaft of golden dawn across the bed and making the pink walls glow. The bed smelled of musk and sex and the faintest hint of his cologne, and she wriggled, turning in his arms to kiss his chest. At the touch of her lips he inhaled sharply, body stiffening as he woke, and she heard a contented rumble from deep in his chest as his arms went around her.

“Morning,” she said, and sucked at his nipple.

Gold jerked, snickering, and tugged her close against him so that she had to kiss back up his chest to get some air. He pushed her onto her back, one hand sliding down over her hip to squeeze her rear as his mouth found her ear.

“Morning,” he murmured, and Lacey moaned as he sucked at her throat. His hand strayed to her hip again, sliding along the crease at the top of her thigh, and she caught his fingers in hers before he could reach between her legs.

“Really interested in where your mind’s going,” she said. “But I need the bathroom. And coffee, to be honest.”

Gold pulled back immediately, rolling onto his side, and she slipped from the bed, drawing on his discarded shirt. He was watching her with a sleepy-eyed grin, his hair dishevelled and a day’s growth of stubble on his cheeks. It made her want to crawl straight back in bed with him.

“I guess I’ll make the coffee, then,” he said. “You want some breakfast?”

Lacey sighed.

“Does that mean getting up?”

“Doesn’t have to.”

“Well, alright then.”

She winked at him, making his grin widen, and trotted off to the bathroom.

When she returned he had already gone downstairs, and she poked around on his dresser for a hairbrush, dragging it through her curls and teasing out the knots that had formed over several hours of the best sex she’d ever had. Gold had stamina. He was also extremely generous, and wanted to please her, which was a first in her experience. She could see herself falling deeply in love with the guy if she wasn’t too careful, and was surprised to find that the idea didn’t bother her. Glancing in the mirror she shook out her hair and set down the hairbrush, sending her reflection a satisfied grin. Apparently Ruby was right. I do want more than hot crazy sex. Although the hot crazy sex is amazing.

She padded downstairs, following the sound of him clattering around in the kitchen. The scent of coffee was drifting towards her, and she took a seat at the kitchen table, watching Gold in his silk robe as he made scrambled eggs and spooned it onto hot buttered toast.

“Hot sex, great coffee and a delicious breakfast,” she remarked, as he set a plate in front of her. “How is it you’ve been single for so long?”

Gold chuckled, sliding into the chair opposite.

“My son would say it’s because I’m completely dense and have no idea when someone is interested,” he said.

“Well, he’s not wrong about that,” said Lacey, making him grin. “Although I guess I shouldn’t really tease you about it. Pot, kettle, and all that.”

He grinned at her, eyes gleaming, and she felt herself fall in love with him a little more. She turned to her breakfast to stop herself blushing with the thrill of it. The eggs were soft and buttery, seasoned to perfection, and she made a noise of approval and cut a piece of toast, pushing it into the growing pool of melted butter and popping it into her mouth. Gold was watching her over the rim of his coffee cup, and she took a sip of her own and set down her cup.

“Any chance we can finish that interview today?” she asked. “I had other questions to ask and you kind of distracted me with orgasms.”

He smirked.

“I have to open the shop at some point,” he said. “Can it wait until later?”

Lacey pursed her lips, trying to hide her smile.

“You want me to come over tonight, is that what you’re saying?”

“You’re the one that wants to interview me,” he said, one eyebrow flicking. “Maybe I’d be more inclined to open up if we were more - intimate.”

His voice had dropped to a low purr, and Lacey squeezed her thighs together.

“Okay, but no distracting me this time!” she ordered, gesturing with a fork. “I have to get some stuff on tape I can actually use! I don’t want Sidney weaselling out of this pay rise he promised.”

Gold pressed a hand to his heart with a wounded expression, and she wrinkled her nose at him. He turned back to his breakfast, a tiny grin on his face.

“I suppose he’ll have you covering the mayoral election,” he said, and Lacey nodded, chewing and swallowing.

“There’s gonna be a debate next week.”

“Really?” Gold pulled a face. “So maybe that’s why I’m starting to hear whispers against Regina.”

“Whispers?” Lacey sat up. “What are they saying?”

Gold took a drink of coffee, setting the cup back down and sucking at his teeth a little.

“The rumour,” he said, “is that money has gone missing from the accounts. Not a huge amount, perhaps a few thousand dollars, but enough to trigger an investigation. The whispering I’ve heard is that it’s the Mayor herself getting greedy. Trying to maintain a lifestyle she can’t afford on the back of hard-working townsfolk.”

“That can’t be true,” she said in disbelief. “It’s election year. There’s no way the Mayor would risk her position, right?”

“Regina and I have certainly had our differences,” he agreed, “but I don’t believe for one second that she’s been stealing town funds.”

“Me neither,” said Lacey. “I think it’s Zelena stirring shit.”

Gold gave her a slanted grin, cutting a piece of toast.

“And where’s your proof of that?”

“Don’t have it yet,” she admitted. “But a friend of mine gave me some info on her New York dealings that makes all this sound kind of familiar. Given what you told me last night, I think we can guess that there’s a personal element as far as Zelena’s concerned.”

“So what’s your plan?” he asked.

“I guess we could tell Regina what she’s up to,” said Lacey. “Give her a chance to stop Zelena.”

“It’ll just look like dirty politics if it’s Regina against her rival,” he said, and she nodded in agreement.

“Okay, how about this?” she said. “We tell Zelena what we know. Maybe it’ll make her stop scheming and leave town.”

“And if it doesn’t?”

“Then we go to the town,” said Lacey. “Let them all know what she’s up to.”

“Difficult to do that without evidence,” he said, and she shrugged.

“Maybe we’ll get a confession.”

“You think she’s going to reveal her diabolical plan to you in some sort of tell-all interview?” he asked, with a grin, and she sent him a flat look, reaching for her coffee.

“Not in a million years,” she said. “She can’t stand me.”

She took a sip of her coffee, setting down her cup.

“But she might tell you,” she added.

-

Gold drummed his fingers slowly on the counter top, eyes fixed on the shop door. The clock on the wall opposite showed that it was nine-thirty, and he was expecting a visitor. Right on time, the door opened, the bell above jingling as Zelena stepped into the shop, a predatory smile on her face. She strode towards him with purpose, and Gold eyed her with a flat stare as she leaned on the counter, pushing her face towards him as though hoping for a kiss of greeting.

“Mr Gold,” she said, in a breathy voice. “I can’t tell you how thrilled I was when you said you wanted to discuss my election campaign.”

“Well, before you get too excited,” he said. “I want to talk to you about these rumours against the Mayor.”

“Rumours?” She tried to look puzzled, but it was unconvincing.

“The ridiculous talk of her embezzling town funds.”

Zelena gasped, hand to heart.

“She’s been stealing from the town?” she said, in a hushed voice. “Well. About time someone else took over, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Don’t play games with me,” said Gold, in a bored tone. “You know she didn’t do it.”

“That’ll be for the investigation to determine,” she said smoothly.

“Which you’re hoping will overshadow the campaign and leave you the victor.”

“If the people of this town decide they want me rather than her, who am I to deny them?”

Gold sighed heavily, pushing back from the counter and walking around it. Zelena turned to face him, and he grounded the cane between his feet.

“I know what you’re doing,” he said. “I’m a little unclear as to why.”

“I’m running for Mayor,” she said, showing her teeth in a somewhat manic smile. “As I said, it’s all about wanting to help the town. Family values, that sort of thing.”

“Really?” said Gold. “That’s interesting. Especially as the current Mayor is your half-sister. Perhaps those family values only stretch so far, hmm?”

Zelena’s mouth fell open, eyes wide with shock, and he bit back a smirk.

“Interesting how differently your lives turned out, isn’t it?” he went on. “You raised in England by your adoptive parents, Regina over here with your birth mother. I suppose that must sting, being abandoned. As I understand it, she left you at the kids’ home in Boston with a note saying she had to give herself her best life and she couldn’t do that with a baby.”

Zelena’s eyes widened further, her jaw tightening.

“How the hell do you know that?” she demanded. “Who told you?”

“I have my sources,” he said. “Which I obviously won’t reveal.”

“That slut of a reporter’s been poking her nose in where it doesn’t belong and then selling to the highest bidder, I suppose,” she said bitterly, and he felt his fist clench around the handle of his cane.

“If you mean Miss French,” he said evenly. “Then no. My information predates her arrival in Storybrooke.”

Zelena drew herself up, brushing her hands against her skirts as though ridding herself of something unpleasant.

“Well,” she said. “My tragic history is none of anyone’s business.”

“It’s my business when you try to use it to take over my town.”

“Your town?” she said, letting out a humourless laugh. “Did you become Mayor when I wasn’t looking?”

Gold smiled coldly.

“Regina may have the title of Mayor,” he said. “But I’m the one with the power around here, and I’d prefer to keep it that way. Disruption, disputes – family drama – it hurts the bottom line.”

Zelena took a step closer, licking her lips. It was repellent, but he made himself meet her eyes.

“Well, if you could see your way to supporting my campaign,” she said throatily. “I’m sure we could - work something out. Help each other, so to speak. Perhaps we can discuss it over dinner.”

She reached out to touch his chest, and Gold stepped back smoothly, resisting the urge to swat her hand away.

“I try not to get involved in politics.”

Zelena looked as though she’d bitten a lemon.

“And yet,” she said. “Here you are. Getting in my way.”

“I know where I am with Regina,” he said. “She may be a little hard-headed at times, but she has fairly good judgement, and a genuine concern for her citizens. You have neither.”

“Perhaps I’m just untested.”

“Perhaps you’re unstable.”

She clenched her jaw, her eyes flashing.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re incredibly rude?”

“Usually I get ‘heartless’,” said Gold. “I like to think I’m merely a good judge of character.”

“And you judge the Mayor’s character to be better than mine?”

“I imagine most of this town does,” he said calmly, and Zelena sniffed.

“In case you haven’t noticed, most of the residents of this town are incredibly stupid,” she said. “Small-minded. Stuck in the past and terrified of change. It didn’t take much effort on my part to find bad feelings towards the Mayor.”

“Which you’ve no doubt been exploiting.”

“Well, that’s politics,” she said airily. “Can I help it if the townsfolk have had a difficult year and I remind them that while they struggle to pay their bills, Regina Mills and that wife of hers are lounging around doing heaven knows what on the taxpayer dime?”

“What is it you think they’re doing?” asked Gold, puzzled. “Mallory is a lawyer. Regina is the Mayor. They both earn a respectable living and I’m fairly sure neither one of them is lounging around.”

“Respectable?” she said, raising an eyebrow. “Well, that’s not the concern I’ve heard from some of the townsfolk. There’s talk of some seedy club that’s been approved by the Mayor to open next month. Queens of Darkness, or something?”

“Yes,” said Gold patiently. “It’s a gay bar. So?”

“From what I hear there is deep concern amongst the townsfolk about the image of Storybrooke,” she said. “I’m told it could attract all kinds of perverts to the town. Think of the poor children.”

Gold stared at her, then burst out laughing.

“Are you expecting to challenge Regina on some sort of morality grounds?” he asked. “Good luck with that. No one but a tiny, bigoted minority cares that she’s a lesbian. If you think you can win with their votes alone, you’re wasting your time.”

“I think the family values crowd is more numerous than you might believe,” she said. “Something tells me I’m on the right track. Outrage is so easily manipulated and weaponized, don’t you agree?”

Gold stared at her for a moment.

“So you don’t care about being Mayor at all,” he said. “You just want to take it away from Regina.”

Zelena smirked

“Can you imagine the look on her face?” she asked. “Because I have a little scene in my head that I’m hoping will play out on election day. I’m announced as the winner in a landslide victory, the simpletons that voted for me erupt with cheers, and she runs out of the town hall crying.”

“Clearly you don’t know her very well,” remarked Gold. “Why do this? You don’t want this position, you clearly don’t give a flying fuck about any of the townsfolk, why go to so much trouble to take it from Regina?”

Zelena rounded on him, nostrils flaring.

“Because she deserves it!” she hissed. “Because she had everything that was supposed to be mine! Because she was given the world on a silver platter and even that’s not enough for her!”

Gold shook his head.

“You’re saying that like any of this is Regina’s fault,” he said. “She can’t help it if your mother abandoned you. If you have to take your anger out on someone, surely your mother is the place to start?”

“Well, I can’t very well talk to her about it, she’s dead!”

“Then let it go,” said Gold patiently. “Stop blaming your sister for the two of you having a terrible parent.”

“This life should have been mine!” said Zelena, eyes flashing. “She doesn’t deserve any of this!”

“My thoughts exactly,” he said dryly. “You won’t beat her, you know. The town has supported Regina for years because she does a good job. They won’t simply choose you because you bat your eyelashes at them.”

“Well, maybe they’d prefer a Mayor who isn’t corrupt,” she said. “I think you’ll be surprised at what the townsfolk might want, when the truth is presented to them.”

Perhaps so, he thought. Aloud he said: “You know as well as I do that there’s no truth to the corruption rumours.”

Zelena smiled brightly.

“Do I?”

“Yes,” he said evenly. “So unless you’ve planted a bunch of phoney evidence, this vendetta of yours is doomed.”

Zelena had pursed her lips at his words, and he wanted to shake her.

“You’re telling me you have planted evidence?”

“I didn’t say that.”

Gold sighed heavily.

“I don’t even know why I’m trying to help you,” he said, almost to himself. “Why don’t you just leave town? Go and live your life and stop worrying about what you think you’re entitled to.”

“I will destroy her happiness!” spat Zelena. “If it’s the last thing I do!”

She whirled away, red curls tossing, and stomped towards the door.

“If you try to bring her down,” he called, making her pause. “I’ll stop you.”

Zelena swivelled slowly on her toes to face him, a smirk twisting her lips.

“Oh, really?”

“Really,” he said. “I’ve taken time out of my busy day to try to make you see sense, but I can just as easily talk to the entire town.”

She laughed at that, eyes gleaming with mirth.

“The reclusive Mr Gold, whom the entire town distrusts, is going to convince them that their beloved charity queen is really a fraudster with an axe to grind?”

“Yes,” he said simply.

She looked him up and down briefly, pursing her lips, and took a step forward.

“Go ahead and try, then,” she said. “You’ve no proof.”

Gold held her gaze for a moment, then nodded.

“You’re right,” he said. “I don’t.”

Zelena nodded in satisfaction.

“In that case, I think we’re done, don’t you?” she said. “Unless you want to take me up on that offer of dinner, of course.”

“I think not,” he said coldly, and she sniffed.

“Your loss,” she said, and flounced off, the bell above the door jingling on her way out.

Gold stared after her, shaking his head, and heard the click of heels on the floor behind him.

“Well.” Lacey’s voice made him turn. “That was interesting.”

She was leaning in the doorway, the curtain to the back room draping the curve of her hip, and he smiled.

“Did you get it?” he asked, and she held up her camera.

“Every word.”

[dreamescapeswriting]

Ice Cream and Breakdowns ~OT7 [Request]

↬↬↬Word Count: 2.2K

↬↬↬Genre: Fluff? With a little angst

↬↬↬Pairing: ot7 x reader

↬↬↬A/n: I hope this is okay for you!!!

The sun was starting to rise and you sat up in the bed you hadn't even managed to get a blink of sleep in which made you hate everything around you,

"Y/n? You awake?" You heard one of your boyfriends, Yoongi, ask from the outside of the door he was always the first one awake so he spent the early mornings with you. You would do that every morning, go and sit in the kitchen catching up and talking as if you were alone together but you weren't just dating him, you thought it would be weird at first, dating all of them but it was nice and they all respected the other's time with you.

"Yeah," You heard his footsteps leave meaning he was going to make you both some coffee to wake up with so you groaned into the pillow knowing you had to start your day. You ran your hand through your hair and slid your legs off the bed going over to the window to look through the blinds at the scenery. The sky was orange with some pink hues to it and it made you despise the colours since it was all you saw nowadays, the sunrise and sunset blurring into one for your mind, you hadn't slept in two days as those 48 hours of no sleep was starting to get to you though you were never going to say anything about it. You swallowed the lump in your throat and went over to your wardrobe to find some clothes for college, you have written and practical assignments to do that day and you weren't ready for any of them but you were going to do your best you could with them. Namjoon had helped you study a couple of nights ago but you didn't think it was enough, everything you ever knew was gone from your mind and you were running blanks thanks to the lack of sleep.

"Jungkook said he heard you walking around at 3 this morning, what's wrong?" You looked up from the apple you were biting into to meet Yoongi's gaze from across the table. Jungkook was always the last one to go to sleep at night so you should have known he was awake last night when you came in.

"Worried about my exams and a little tired." You lied biting into the green apple and trying to ignore the sinking feeling always got whenever you lied to any of them, you felt bad for it but you didn't want to bother them with your problems when they had their own to worry about. They had their comeback coming up and you adding to their stress would only make you feel worse about yourself so you kept it all buried deep inside. The truth was you weren't just 'a little tired' you were exhausted, you hadn't slept properly thanks to worrying about exams, you were stressing about job and college work and you were starting to breakdown a lot more than usual.

"You sure?" You nodded at his question, he didn't believe you for a second but he couldn't push you for answers because you were getting up from the kitchen table and making an excuse to get out of the house sooner. You loved them all but if Yoongi kept questioning you would end up crying in the middle of the kitchen at 7 am. It was always the case you could hold it together until someone asked if you were okay then you would break down into a fit of tears,

"I'll give you a ride-"

"It's fine Jin! I'll be okay!" You rushed out of the front door and practically ran down the street to get away from the house full of 7 guys all asking you the same questions.

"Y/n!?" You heard Namjoon calling but you continued running until you reached a taxi bay and got into a waiting cab, giving him the address to your college and throwing your head back against the leather seats within in the car trying to relax a little.

They had all been texting you throughout the day to see how your exams were going but you were ignoring them, hoping that if you didn't respond the problem would go away and you would be fine.

"Jungkook?" You asked when you walked out into the car park of the college campus, he was stood leaning against the hood of his car waiting for you. He was dressed in a leather jacket, jeans and a baseball cap which meant he wasn't planning on taking you home right away that's when you remembered it was his date night with you.

"Fuck, Kookie I'm sorry. I forgot it was tonight." You said as you walked over to him, he wrapped his arm around you in a friendly manner in case anyone was out with their cameras.

"It's fine, you had exams to worry about. I'll take you for takeout and then we'll go home." You smiled at how understanding he was being and he took your backpack from you throwing it into the back of the car,

"How did the exams go?" You felt your world freeze as he asked that simple question,

"We won't know for a couple of days." You lied looking over at the college doors and wanting nothing more than to run back in and retake everything you had done that day. You'd failed every small exam and then the major one which meant you would have to attend the summer course they would be putting on.

"I'm sure you did great, you're smarter than Joonie," Jungkook said as he started up the engine, you forced a laugh out of your throat trying not to think about it but you knew you were fucked.

"If I come down from this nap and any of you have touched my ice cream, heads are going to roll!" You yelled as you walked through the living room and towards the staircase. You and Jungkook ended up grabbing some fast food before going to get snacks for the weekend, you had decided you wanted to treat yourself to your favourite ice cream for the first time in months.

"We don't even like it," Namjoon said as he looked up from the book he was reading and you smiled kissing them all goodnight before going up to your room. For the first time, you felt like you could actually get some decent sleep but at this point, you would take ten minutes as some decent enough sleep.

As soon as your head hit the pillow you let your whole body relax the boys had taken your mind of off everything that had happened that day and you'd forgotten about failing exams. Listening to the boys downstairs to help you drift off into a deep slumber, they slowly began to quiet down as you got closer to your sleep and were silent to you once you were gone into dreamland.

3 am? Your sleeping pattern was officially broken beyond repair but you didn't care, you'd gotten more sleep that night than you had in 2 days and you were feeling slightly refreshed so you crept out of the bed to go and eat your ice cream from the freezer that you had been dreaming about. Your mouth was watering from just the thought of eating the ice cream, you took your phone from the charger deciding to check if you'd missed anything happening in the group chat, but you had an email from your professor informing you when the summer classes would be starting and giving you the failed grades once again and the real world was starting to crawl back into your mind your vision began to cloud as you could feel the tears building up and there was a lump in your throat, you didn't want to have to think about it right now all you wanted was the ice cream, you didn't want the stress of college or the real world. You pushed away the feeling and locked your phone putting it back on charge and walked down the stairs expecting to find Jungkook on his computer games but he was nowhere to be seen you choked up at feeling more alone and walked into the kitchen for your ice cream.

"Come to mama." You whispered taking it from the freezer and opening it, it was still sealed so you grabbed a spoon from the drawer and took a small spoonful into your mouth. Letting out a moan of pleasure when the ice cream hit your taste buds you'd missed it a lot which seemed silly since it was just ice cream. There was a bang in the living room making you jump you span around quickly and the ice cream slipped from your hand and onto the floor, leaking out onto the tiled flooring and you just stared at it. Everything hitting you all at once like a gigantic wave washing over you all at once, you threw down the metal spoon and slid down the kitchen cupboards bringing your knees into your chest as you cried into them. You felt like an immature child crying over spilt ice cream but it wasn't just that, it was everything building up on top of you that you couldn't even breath anymore. It was like there was a huge weight on your chest and nothing was helping to stop it only adding more and more to it and the only thing that could have helped, the ice cream, was now gone in a flash.

Taehyung was the first one downstairs to see what the bang and scream was, he found you on the floor sobbing into your hands and he didn't say anything. He just sank down beside you bringing you into his arms and holding you while you cried to him, your shoulders shaking whenever you tried to take in a breath.

"Shh, it's okay." He promised as he rubbed your arms but you pushed him away getting up from the floor and looking at him. He stared back at you, your eyes were red from crying and your face was stained with tears.

"It's not okay! Nothing is okay!" You screamed out waking up Jungkook who was the heaviest sleeper in the house, they all came into the kitchen and you were pacing back and forth yelling about everything that came to your mind.

"Nothing is okay! I failed my exams! I'm in the middle of losing my job because my boss is losing money! I can't afford to feed myself, I just- I have to attend summer classes because I'm such a fucking idiot I can't pass a simple exam!" You broke down again falling onto your knees and leaning your head onto the kitchen cupboard beside you. The boys swallowed the lumps in your throat and Hoseok was the first one to go over to you, saying nothing but just wrapping his arms around you as Taehyung had done before.

"I can't- I can't do this anymore." You whimpered to Hoseok as he rocked you back and forth, Namjoon got you some water while Jimin went on the hunt for some blankets for you.

"It's too much." You whispered finally losing the strength to talk or raise your voice for them to finally hear you. With them around you, it no longer felt as though you were drowning under everything you were holding back and you felt better for telling them about everything already.

"You should have told us before," Namjoon whispered an hour later, you were laid on the floor of the living room in front of the TV that had something playing in the background but none of you was paying attention to it.

"I didn't know how." You whimpered as he wiped more tears away from your face you knew now that it would have been easier to deal with things if you had told them.

"You can tell us everything, you know that right?" Yoongi questioned looking over at you, you nodded sleepily and he sighed at how tired you were. They all felt regretful for not noticing how tired you'd become and they began blaming themselves for not noticing though you shut that down quickly when they mentioned it.

"I won't hide anything anymore, promise." You managed to say before falling asleep with your head resting on Namjoon's legs, he was tracing his hands up and down your arm to help you drift off and smiled as you were finally out cold. All of them agreed that it would be better to let you sleep as long as they could let you deciding to take the day off from the studio to work from home for once instead of letting you be alone and from that point forward they were going to make it a regular thing to properly check-in with you. Making sure you were okay and you weren't trying to hide things from them, all they cared about was your happiness and making you happy because they loved you a lot and didn't want anything to happen to you if they could help it.

Tagline: 

@writingdreamsnottragedies @yoongisdumplingcheeks @snowy-meowl @lynnthevirgo​ @jooniesdarlingdimples​ @kpopfanfictionhoes​ @lyoongx​ @callingmyangel​ @mitzwinchester​ @btsiguess-kpop​ @rjsmochii​ @fan-ati--c​

[vintagedolan]

hiraeth: initial concept

*this is a concept train!! in short, that means you all send in asks and tell me what you wanna see! so feel free to send me in whatever you want to see happen (it would be awesome if you guys send them kinda in order of plot like not jumping way ahead or anything if you know what I mean hehe. anyways, hope you enjoy, and here is my askbox for concepts!! love yah!*

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1: The Valley Isle

“What makes Hawaiian shaved ice Hawaiian? Isn’t it just ice and syrup?”

“Well, every morning we go out and collect water from the waterfall in our backyard, and then we freeze it into ice cubes shaped like the islands, and then we shave each one special into our various menu sizes.”

“Really?!”

“No. Your total is $5.47.”

Koa looked up from the syrup station, reaching over and smacking Kahua’s arm.

“Dude. Do you want to get fired?” She kept her voice low so it didn’t travel past the window.

He just laughed and grabbed the banana syrup, finishing off the mound of ice and sticking a spoon in the side before passing it out the window to the woman who’d asked the question. 

“Yes. My master plan is to get in trouble, blame it on you, get it put on your permanent record so you lose all your future jobs and have to stay here with me forever.” 

“You act like you aren’t going to also be in LA in literally three months.”

“And you act like you aren’t leaving me here on this rock, alone, for three months,” Kahua countered, turning to switch out the withering ice block from the machine. 

Koa looked out over the rainbow of syrups, taking in the view.

Her and Kahua had been calling Maui a rock for years - since third grade, to be precise. She didn’t say it often, and especially not to any tourists who were coming to visit. To them, Maui was paradise. Tropical, perfect weather, perfect beaches. Koa could see it. She understood the allure. But when she thought of her paradise, it came in the shape of a bustling city, of opportunities and new faces and places. 

LA.

Kahua called it the haole’s dream. The white girl’s dream. Didn’t matter how many times he complained about being on the same island his whole life, he never really wanted to leave it. The fact that Koa wanted to was seen as borderline criminal by half her ohana, but she pushed their comments and insults aside.

There were only two opinions that she really cared about anyways. 

First was Nahele; her older brother. She didn’t have to ask him what he thought - he’d moved to Texas as soon as he could, started up a food truck in Austin, named it 808 GRINDZ and brought every hawaiian cooking method he knew along with him. He’d been making a life for himself ever since then, and he was ecstatic when Koa told him she was moving. The thought of having family on the mainland, even halfway across the country, was comforting enough.

But the most important one? That was Amosa. 

Amosa, who called her when he knew she’d be walking to her car after she clocked out.

“Hi Dad.”

“Kaikamahine, my girl. How was your shift?”

“Busy, but it was fine. They gave me a card for a free small everyday that you can have, but you gotta get the sugar free syrup when you use it.”

“Yeah yeah,” he laughed. Even over the phone, Koa could hear the waves in the background, and she knew where he was before he said it. “Come to the dock.”

“Did you book another tour?” She couldn’t keep the excitement out of her voice.

“Come to the dock,” he said, his quiet way of saying no. “I’ll see you soon. Aloha wau iā 'oe.”

“Love you too.”

The drive to the boat dock was short, and the parking lot was busy as ever. Koa passed the bigger boats, with their names in fancy script screen printed on the side. Their buoys and extra snorkel gear, the bars nestled in the middle of the deck, an extra incentive for the tourists to book with them. Everyone loves a mai tai after all.

The Honu Nai sat at her spot on the dock, the farthest to the left. She had three years on any other snorkel boat out there. Her bow was worn, paint sanded off by the salt and sun over time and travel through the waves. But the little drawing of the smiling turtle still shone through on the side, despite the fact that Koa had painted it almost 10 years ago. 

Over the edge, Koa could see her father. He was cleaning, like usual, organizing all of the extra gear that he had on the boat. The kids section was scarce again, all the smaller sized wetsuits, snorkels and fins barely taking up a rack. Koa knew why - if there was ever a kid on his snorkel tour who couldn’t afford their own gear, he’d ‘lend’ it to them. Every kid deserves to see the underwater world, he would say. It changes you, shows you what life is really about.

Koa had been in the ocean since before she could walk. If she wasn’t where she was supposed to be, she was one of two places; either diving under a wave somewhere, or writing in her notebook. Or, one of her notebooks at least. 

“No book today?” He asked when she jumped aboard.

“Already packed them up.”

Amosa couldn’t think about the suitcases in her room without the tears starting to form. He blinked them away and looked out to the sea of blue. 

“Did you pack your snorkel gear?”

“Dad. You know I’m not going to see shit in the ocean in California,” she sighed, moving over to him and putting an arm around him. 

“I know, I know. They have sea lions I’ve heard. Maybe they’ll be friendly.”

“I’ve heard they stink.” She laid her head on his shoulder gently, closing her eyes when he kissed her head.

“Well. We have 5 hours until you have to get to the airport, and I say that’s just enough time for one more run, hmmm?”

Koa didn’t want to. She couldn’t think of many things worse than having salt all over her skin for a 6 hour plane ride. But the excitement in his eyes was irresistible, so she simply nodded and offered him a smile, letting go so he could get them on their way out to the reef. 

She sat on the bow as they headed out to sea, closed her eyes and soaked in the spray off the waves. Her dad laughed when they hit a particularly big one, cutting through the crest so much that it splashed up onto the deck. He used to do it on purpose when she was a little girl just to hear her giggle and have her running back to him. 

They made it to their favorite place quickly, and Koa didn’t hesitate to put her mask on and get to work. She took the line and dove over the side, tying it to the anchor hook under the water before coming back up. Amosa dropped the ladder for her on the back, but she didn’t need it. She was watching the reef. 

Moorish Idols. That’s what she wanted to see. They were second only to green sea turtles - honu in Hawaiian. But they were the most beautiful fish, with their delicate top fin that tapered off to a tail. She was always excited to find one and show the kids on tours. All she had to say was look for Gill from Finding Nemo and they were able to spot them. She floated for a while, watching the fish dart around, even spotting a small reef shark about 15 yards to the right before she decided to climb back in to see her dad. 

He passed her a towel and smiled at her as she sat down. All he could do was look at her for a moment, taking her in. His baby girl, on the boat she’d practically grown up in for the last time in a while.

He put on his brave face, and forced his biggest smile. “You ready to go out there?”

Koa sighed. 

“I don’t know how to tell.” 

“You’ll do great. You’re capable, and it won’t be long until you’re writing your own books instead of writing for these… whatever boys.”

“Dolan. Their names are Ethan and Grayson Dolan.” 

“Well, like I said. Soon it’ll be your stories out there instead of someone else’s, with your name instead of theirs.” He said it with such certainty that she couldn’t help but believe him. Maybe it was the salt water left over in her eyes, or the glare of the sun off the ocean, but she began to tear up. 

“Thanks for always supporting me dad. It means the world. I’m sorry I have to go so far away, I wish I could stay.” It was true - she just needed the money from the Dolan’s to get herself started, and then she’d come back, help her father.

Amosa smiled. 

“Kaikamahine, it’s just an ocean between us.” He reached out for her cheek. “And we know the ocean, don’t we.”

“She’s an old friend,” Koa said, her heart tight in her chest. 

“Exactly. Now c’mon, let’s get you home and on your way.”

Across the ocean and 3 hour time change, Grayson Dolan was pacing. 

“It’s gonna be fine.” Ethan said.

“Shut the fuck up Ethan,” Grayson said. 

That was the extent of most of their conversations over the last three days. Actually, that’s how all of them had been since Ethan had signed a deal with their agent for a ghostwritten book about their lives.

“It’ll get more people connected to us, the right people-”

“Has it ever fucking occurred to you that I’m tired of that shit? That I’m tired of people prying into my fucking life? What if I don’t wanna connect with anyone else, what if I just wanna be left the fuck alone? But no, now we’re gonna have some fucking stranger asking us a million fucking questions and digging for information in my own fucking house where I just wanna exist.”

Ethan didn’t have an answer for that. He’d fucked up, and he knew it. But he also knew that he signed a contract, and there was no backing out of it now. Grayson rubbed his hand over his eyes.

“When does the writer get here?”

“She flies in tonight.”

“Fucking fantasic. Can’t wait.” 

With that, Grayson walked back to his room, leaving his twin alone in the living room with his hands in his pockets.

[backtobackbakubabe]

I am the Alpha Now Part 12

Bakugo X Reader (There’s a bit of smut in the beginning) 

Words : 3133

Masterlist

Reader is from America and somewhat of a delinquent with an alpha quirk that allows her to turn into a wolf as well as bond with dogs. She is sent to UA to straighten out her attitude. She ends up in a power struggle with none other than our favorite hot head. Words in Italics are words said telepathically.

You didn’t leave the dorms once that weekend. True to his word Bakugo was there for you the entire time and helped in whatever way he could. He even went out of his way to cook foods that you were craving. And those weren’t the only cravings he satisfied. Your room has become a den of absolute sin. It didn’t matter what you were doing or where you were. As soon as the feeling started to coil in your stomach, the feeling of need, the feeling of desire, he was there. There wasn’t a surface that wasn’t christened at this point. The bed, the floor, the desk, the shower.

Right now was no exception. You had been casually studying for your upcoming finals. There was just something about the way his voice sounded when he corrected you on something. The way his hands looked when they took notes. Your thighs started to press together, and your breathing hitched. You couldn’t hump like rabbits all weekend. You needed to actually study.

Bakugo could tell you were growing uncomfortable, and started to scoot closer to you. You could feel how exhausted he was, no doubt from all of your uh… extracurricular activities. You started to protest when he reached for you but one look from his smoldering red eyes had you squirming. He reached around your waist and pulled you into his lap your back against his chest. His chin rested on your shoulder as his thighs spread your legs open. His voice, softer than usual, vibrating down your neck as he continued to ask you questions. His lips leaving soft kisses in the spot where your neck met you shoulder. 

You let out a shaky breath and tried to clear your head, he was asking you a question. What did he say? Can you even remember? Are any of your senses even working right now? When you didn’t answer he bit down on your shoulder, “Come on pup, stay with me. What quirk style is best when going against a villain with an electricity based quirk?”

You yelped but that little bit of pain was enough to boot your brain back up, “Uh… ?  An earth style quirk?”

His hand slid across your thigh and entered into your pajama shorts. While his other arm wrapped around your hips. “Good girl, now tell me… What do you do if a villain has a fellow hero hostage but you are outnumbered?” His fingers were tracing your most sensitive area through your underwear making it hard to even think straight. If he wasn’t holding you to him, you would have fallen over.

“T-Technically I’m supposed to wait for back up a-and follow but not engage… but- but.”

Bakugo’s fingers started to slip past the waistband of your underwear, “But what?” Damn that husky voice.

You leaned into him, inhaling his sweet burnt sugar smell, “If it were you… I’d burn the place down to get you back safely.”

His fingers thrust inside of you as he cooed in your ear. “I believe that’s my line pup.” His fingers pump in an out of you while he assaults your neck with kisses. “I’d do anything to get you back. I’d break any rule, I’d burn down the world if it meant keeping you safe.”

Your back arched as you finished on his fingers. Breathing heavy as you slowly came back down to reality. When your head finally cleared you could feel Bakugo kissing the top of your head. “You know I don’t know what I’d do if I had to get through this alone. It would have been torture. I know it’s been more than you bargained for.”

Bakugo’s arm tightened around your waist. “This has been the most exhausting weekend of my entire life… but it’s also been the best. How much longer do you think this is going to last?”

You snuggled deeper into him, “I don’t know, but it dose seem to be slowing down. In the past it’s lasted anywhere from three days to a week. I should be back to a normal level of horny by the time finals start.” Bakugo chuckles and slaps your ass. “I mean not that I’m complaining but it will be nice to get back to reality. I think I’ve started to forget how to behave outside of this room.”

You scoff, “You never knew how to behave to begin with baka.” He started tickling you, ‘What was that? Baka? Who you calling baka? When did you even learn that?”

Between your laughter you pushed away from him, “You literally call me baka like 800 times a day. I asked Kiri. So technically I learned it from you… BAKA” He swatted your ass again before announcing he was going to take a shower and tossing you off his lap and on to the bed like a sack of potatoes.

You had class in the morning and finals started tomorrow. This was the last week of class and then you would graduate and have to make a decision. You pulled up a new tab on your laptop and started looking at available apartments in the area. Your jaw dropped when you saw how expensive they were. Like how in the hell where you ever going to be able to afford that? You then googled to see how much the average low rank hero makes in Japan. Oof. You knew there was no way your parents would help you. You kind of burned that bridge a long time ago.

You wondered if any of the girls would be interested in rooming with you, but then you remembered you hadn’t really made an effort to get to know anyone outside of Bakugo’s small squad of friends.

You groaned as you continued scrolling through the offensive apartment listings. Bakugo came out in a pair of sweatpants toweling off his blonde hair. 

“Oi… what’s with the angst. What’s got your panties in a twist?”

“Oh you know… the fact that’ll I’ll be homeless this time next week… just casual things.”

The bed squeaked as he landed on the bed beside you, “What the fuck are you talking about?”

You pointed to the webpage, “These are all ridiculously overpriced. I have absolutely no money to my name. How the hell am I supposed to magically have enough to pay rent… or even a deposit?”

Bakugo shrugged, “Is that it? I had just assumed you’d come live with me?”

Your eyes narrowed, “Come live with you? Like with you and your parents? Who I haven’t even met yet because you insist they’re crazy?”

He flicked you between the eyes, “No dumbass. I’ve told you like ten times that I’m moving into a townhouse with Kiri, Deku, and Todorki.” You rubbed the spot he had just flicked, “Actually no… you haven’t. This is the first time I’m hearing about it. I think I would remember if you told me you were going to live with Todoroki and DEKU? DEKU? You hate him!”

“I… I don’t hate him. I just… it’s complicated. Icy hots dad is paying for it on the condition that we all come work for him for the first year or so after graduation.”

You crossed your arms over your chest in a pout. “Well that’s just great. You already have a job, a place to live, and I would just be a mooch. Does that place even allow dogs. What about Mercy? What if I can’t find a job. I wouldn’t want to take advantage of you guys. I wouldn’t want to be a stay at home roommate either… I don’t know even know how to cook. What would…”

Bakugo slapped his hand over your mouth, “Oi what the fuck. Where did all of this insecurity come from?” He cupped his hands around your cheeks and make you look at him. “I have no doubt you will be able to find a job. You have a badass quirk. I know because I struggle to keep up with you on a daily basis. Second you would never be a mooch. I would have no problem with you being a stay at home roommate, wife, mom, whatever. But I know you and I know you wouldn’t be happy with that. Third…. If they’ll accept four idiot guys with destructive quirks then I don’t think they’d care about a dog.. besides I’m sure there’s like laws that would make it impossible from them not too considering he’s part of your quirk.”

You could feel yourself start to relax into his touch. He was right. You were overreacting. “It’s just a little overwhelming you know? Sure I’ve lived here for almost a year, but I’ve been on campus the entire time. Once I leave it feels… I don’t know more real.”

He ran a hand through your hair, “You’re not having any second thoughts are you? Because I’ll tie you to the bed if I have to. I’m not letting you go back to America.”

You giggled, “Oh you wont let me huh? And who said you could stop me?”

He leaned forward until his forehead touched yours, “Like I said before. I’d break every rule to keep you safe. I’m not above kidnaping.”

You gave him a soft peck on the lips, “You really are getting soft babe.”

He rolled his eyes before laying down and pulling you with him to spoon you, “I am not soft! I just so happen to like you more than most people.”

You poked his chest, “Most people? So there’s someone out there you like more than me? Let me guess? All Might? Kiri? Oh I know it’s Deku isn’t it?” It was his turn to groan, “Shut up about Deku already. It’s bad enough were about to be roommates. Just because I may or may not respect him a little more now, does not mean we are friends.”

Bakugo went to fetch Mercy who had been roaming the grounds of UA. Anything to not be near the two of you while you were in heat. You both ended up drifting off as soon as he returned. Finals exams started tomorrow, and you needed all the rest you could get.

The following morning went as usual. Bakugo would sneak out back to his room while you got ready and then return to walk you to class. You felt so amped up today you were practically glowing with energy. It could have been a result of a good night sleep or the fact that you were getting treated right by your boyfriend allll weekend.

Today’s portion of the exam was written. You knew you aced it. And you only cheated twice. You telepathically asked Bakugo two questions, mostly because you couldn’t remember what the words meant in English. He scolded you but helped you anyways. There was no way you could get caught anyways.

The second and third day were practical exams. A lot of basic fitness and quirk demonstration.

Today was the fourth day and today was it was sparing. It was like a mini sports festival except the only people allowed to come were hero agencies looking for new recruits.

You gave it everything you had, you needed to compensate for the fact that your Japanese sucked and honestly your strategy was a little lacking as well. Bakugo was way calmer than expected, but that was probably because he already had a job after graduation. You both make quick work of your sparring opponents until it was just the two of you left.

You stepped up to your side of the mat, Mercy at your heels, “Go ahead and take a break Mercy… I don’t think I’ll need you for this.”

Bakugo’s smirk took over his entire face, “Oh getting cocky already are we?”

You returned his smirk, “You’ve spent close to a year fighting me, and by now I know all of your tricks.” You took a fighting stance, “Besides now..” “I can get in your head.”

Bakugo if only for a moment paled as you lunged. He avoided you at the least second blasting into the air and sending an explosion in your direction. You wanted to do this as long as possible as a human before shifting. You wanted to prove you were more than your quirk. But unfortunately he was just too damn fast.

You closed your eyes to shift. Bakugo knew what was happening, he had seen it hundreds of times. So he used this to his advantage. He went to tackle you right as you shifted. He ended up getting you in a headlock. You bucked trying to get him off. You were reminded of the first time you spared with him. He had done the same thing. He held you in a headlock until you nearly passed out, ordering you to submit.

Well you had come a long way since then. You went on your hind legs like you were about flip onto your back, but instead you shifted back to normal grabbing Bakugo by the hand and flipping him over you. The second he hit the ground you were back in your wolf form. Pressing your massive paws into his chest. “Damn pup. So you want to play it rough huh? I know you heal fast so don’t expect me to go easy on you…” His palm came up and sent an explosion right into your face.

You yelped and jumped off. You could smell your singed fur and it fueled your anger. You both continued to go back and forth until you were on the brink of exhaustion. You only had one trick left up your sleeve. Something you had been working on in private with some of the others. Something Bakugo didn’t even know about.

“Oi come on pup! You that tired already? Where did all that energy go?”

You had learned that if you focus really hard you can force your alpha authority on other people. It’s very brief, a minute at most. But that’s all you needed. You built up what energy you had left and growled at him, giving it all the alpha power you had. You could see his eyes glaze over for a moment, just a moment, but it was enough. You pounced. “SUBMIT”

Bakugo struggled to clear his head… “I… I..sub..” He slapped himself in the face. “NEVER!”

Before either of you could continue Aizawa stepped out and stopped you, “I think that’s enough you two. I think you’ve proven well enough what you are capable of.”

As soon as you both were out of site and in the gym he pulled you aside to an empty hallway and pushed you against the wall. “What the hell was that pup? I’ve never seen you do that before? That was so fucking cool!” He was kissing you now hands reaching down to pick you up. You wrapped your legs around his waist and deepened the kiss. You would have kept kissing him too if someone hadn’t cleared their throat.

Both of you broke apart and snapped your heads in the direction of the interruption. Of fucking course, it was Aizawa. “Well I came to congratulate you two and remind you that you have interviews tomorrow. Bakugo yours is more of a formality, but y/n… you have multiple offers as well. One of them being with Endeavor. Apparently, word has reached him that you’ll be living with apprentices and there’s no way he’s not going to try and take advantage of that.” He looked really uncomfortable. “I’m only your teacher for two more days so please… for my health and sanity. Keep it in your pants until then.”

You both waited until he was gone before busting out into laughter. Bakugo kissed the tip of your nose. “Looks like we might be working together.”

You took his hand and headed towards the dorms, “We just might..”

The next day was the interviews. There were several rooms set up with different agencies. In the morning you checked in and received your schedule. Bakugo’s interview with Endeavor was right before yours. You both headed that way. Your phone buzzed when you arrived at the door. The previous person was still in there, so you sat there next to Bakugo as he waited and pulled out your phone.

You had an email from an unknown username. Weird.

When you opened it you felt tears well up behind your eyes. You saw pictures and videos from your time as a vigilante in the states. There was even mug shots. Yes plural, you were arrested multiple times. There was a time you weren’t proud of and you did a lot of stuff that sometimes kept you up at night.

The email read,

Dear y/n, We were very impressed with your performance during your final exam yesterday. The way that you not only kept up with but almost tamed Bakugo Katsuki. Now that is something. We did a little digging and we found some very interesting videos of you. We wonder how your boyfriend would feel if he knew about your body count. How future employers would feel if they knew you had a bit of a villainous streak. We’ll make you a deal… In exchange for these videos never being released…. We need you to do us… a favor. Don’t worry about finding us. We’ll find you. Look forward to talking with you. - LOV

Your palms started to sweat. Bakugo nudged you with his elbow, “Hey you okay pup?”

You shoved your phone in your pocket, “Yeah just a little nervous is all.”

He kissed your forehead, “Don’t worry about it, you’ll do great.”

You nodded as the door opened to signal that it was Bakugo’s turn. “Hey babe, did you mean it when you said you’d burn down the world for me?”

He quirked an eyebrow at you, “Uh yeah… why? You planning on doing something stupid?”

You did everything you could to keep yourself from crying, “No of course not. I’ll leave the stupid behavior to you… Good luck in there. I love you.”

He could feel how heavy your mood got but he didn’t have time to think about it as he was being ushered into his interview. It didn’t sit right with him though. In fact, it bothered him the whole time Endeavor spoke to him. He reached out to you telepathically, “Hey are you sure you’re okay?” No response. His heart started to hammer in his chest. “Y/N!” Again, he was met with silence. He reached out to find your location like you had taught him… and you weren’t there. Bakugo jumped up from his seat and threw the door open.

The hallway was empty, but Mercy was still there… “She left me too…..”

****************************************************************************************

TAGLIST: @tspice283 , @realityisoftendisapointing , @imbi-101 , @thoughtfulpandazine2 , @hotarumorikawa , @huh-iwasntpayingattention , @starfishlovingbnha , @weebnumber3622 , @mixedfeeelings , @munchmunch01 , @inumorph @xxoperatexx 

[peakyblinderswhore]

DAY 12 ⇨ SMILE FOR SANTA

GENRE: Christmas!au, Fluff, a lil Crack

PAIRING: John x Reader (although it does include interactions with the whole family :) )

SYNOPSIS: After John convinced you to spend the day with the Shelby’s, you made sure that you were there to help with anything and everything you could. Except when it came to the family photo that Polly had suggested on a whim. Everything was getting a little bit more chaotic than usual and the family was more than struggling to keep in check.

W/C: 3.4k

A/N: *ugly crying* because i love john!! john deserved better and i’d happily die for him. *shouting* ENJOY! OR ELSE! also merry christmas :) also john doesn’t have kids in this scenario :D it’s safe to say i got more than carried away adn fell in love with this fic. it pains me to have to leave this world behind after finishing this.

merry christmas! joyeux noël! feliz navidad! meri korisomasu! (🇯🇵 rom)

After that cold afternoon in your house when John had convinced you to spend the day celebrating with his family, you had found that you had become incredibly anxious as the day neared. Last night, you had been running around, making sure that the food you had promised to bring was cooking before wrapping it up tightly, burning your fingers twice as you hadn’t waited for it to cool down. 

John had given you some pocket money and you had spent the weekend deliberating between two dresses, having no idea which one would look better on you and which one would please Polly more. You knew she could be straightforward at times but you didn’t know if this translated over to what she might say about your appearance. In the end, John had blindly pointed at one and told you to buy it after getting frustrated about your nervousness but he kept insisting that it was ‘just like any other day with the added extra of strictly no business talk at the dinner table’.

When you finished stressing the morning of, John halted your never-ending train of thoughts when he knocked on your door, prompting you to open the door and make sure that you had everything you needed for the day in a flurry.

“John!” You breathlessly exclaimed as you swing the door open to greet him, “Please come in, there’s just a few more things I need to make sure of.”

Wordlessly, he wraps his arm around you, stopping you from walking away to whatever you were going to do next. “It’s one day; there’s no need to stress out,” he mumbles into your hair,pulling your back closer to his chest and winding his other arm around you.

You bring your hands to rest on his forearms, leaning your head back on his shoulder and breathe out, “I don’t want anything to go wrong… that’s all.”

John lets out a light laugh, “Have you met The Shelby’s before? No matter what you say or do or think is going to prevent a disaster from happening, there will always be something. I’m pretty sure last year it was Arthur’s drunk antics breaking things and the year before Finn knocked over the tree by accident which, in turn, lit up the rug as he knocked it into the fire.”

“Jesus… I’m not sure that helps my mind,” you say, wincing at the thought of Polly screaming at everyone as they put out the fire and attempt to save the rug and the tree, “Wait, is that where the massive scorch marks came from in the lounge?”

John loosens his hold on you, letting you turn to face him, his grin takes over his face, “You noticed? Pol’ tries to hide the scorches by arranging the furniture differently but we all know it’s there.”

“I was only trying to be polite,” you mutter, a small smile gracing your lips.

“That’s why she loves your company,” he leans closer, eyes flickering to your lips, “it’s one of the many why I love you.”

Your eyes flutter close and he presses a chaste kiss to your lips, not pressing for anything more. Turning your body to face him completely, you bring your arms to his chest, resting your palms on  the breast of his coat before curling your fingers around the lapels. His fingers brush your face, rubbing soothing circles into your cheeks. It was a kiss filled with love and it made you melt into his body, knowing that no matter what would happen today, you would be okay and you knew that at the end of it all you would still have John to turn to.

Eventually, you pull apart, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, making you instinctively run your thumb across the bottom of his lip, enjoying how they looked when stained with your lipstick, “You got a lil’ something…” you whisper before pressing a kiss to his lips and pushing him away gently.

“I’ll go clean my face then,” he replies, moving towards the sink.

When you’ve decided that you’ve gathered everything you need for the day you make your way over to the Shelby family home. It was a brisk walk in the biting cold, tucked under John’s arm with your arms wound tightly around his torso for warmth as he carried the food you’d insisted on cooking to lessen the load on Polly.

John pushes the door open and calls out, “Pol’? We’re here.”

At the sound of her nephew’s voice bouncing off the walls, Polly appears, wiping her hands on an apron that was tied around her waist, a smile board on her face.

“Love! You made it; I’m so glad you’ve decided to come over this year. Could’ve used the company last year -- what with our Ada moving down to London,” she pulls you into a hug, pressing a kiss to your cheek in greeting before addressing John, “and you, mister,” she raises an eyebrow, “I hope you’ve warned her about your shenanigans you like to pull on Christmas day.”

Amused, you turn to look at John, “Shenanigans? You never told me about any shenanigans.”

His face heats up, turning red from the sudden attention being directed his way and from the onslaught he knew Polly was going to let you in on. Instead he directs the conversation in another direction, “Ah listen  yeah,” he rubs the back of his neck with his free hand, “I don’t know…” he mumbles.

You decide to save him, resting your hand on his that carried the bags you had packed, “I made something so you don’t have to worry too much. Let’s unpack it.”

Polly grins, raising her hands in the air in celebration, “Perfect! I tricked Finn into helping too so he doesn’t accidentally light any trees on fire this year.”

You giggled, “Oh I heard about that one a little earlier on.”

Polly holds her hand out for your coat that you slip off of your shoulders, you quickly thank her before she throws it at John, “Hang that up, you little gremlin,” she playfully growls at him, “me and my niece have important work to be doing.”

He huffs in annoyance but does as his Aunt requested, pegging up your coats on her coat hanger -- something that she moved towards the front of the house when it came around to Christmas, knowing this might be the only day of the year that the boys actually stay long enough to remove their coats. She lets you lead the way into the kitchen, shooing you to stand by the table. Finn wanders over from the betting den, a spoon in his hand and a bowl tucked under his arm.

“Finn! Did you let Arthur taste some?”

He sheepishly nods. She lets her head fall back and her arms sag behind her as she groans, “I gave you one job! Don’t let Arthur eat the produce; it ruins the build-up to the main course.”

John shuffles into the kitchen and picks a chair to sit at, more than happy to watch you smile and be happy around his family.

You make your way about unpacking the food you had cooked while Polly scolds Finn. It’s not really serious scolding but it’s something you can watch from a distance, enjoying it. When Polly turns to go back to the oven, John gestures to Finn, encouraging him to move closer and takes the spoon from his grip. Finn’s eyes widen but he doesn’t say anything, not wanting to set Polly off again. John lets himself sink into the chair when he licks the spoon and you giggle at him.

Polly’s head snaps in your direction, making you squeak as you clamp your lips shut.

She eyes you before turning her attention towards Finn who had made his way closer to her, spoon mixing around in the bowl. “What have you made, love?”

“I made a crumble. I wasn’t sure if you were a Christmas Pudding family so I went for a family recipe instead. I also made some chocolates in case you weren’t a crumble family either,” you say, unveiling a baked apple crumble, still in the pot and a box filled with chocolate shapes, “I made the crumble last night but it can go in the oven to be warmed up later.”

John leans into you, hand reaching to pick up a chocolate but you slap his hand away, making his yelp, having not expected that. You glare at him, “Don’t be greedy. I know you had some while I went to reapply my lipstick.”

He waves you off, pretending to not know what you’re on about, making Polly laugh after seeing the scene that unfolded before her. Finn stands close to you, peering into the box, wanting to see what they looked like. When he saw them his eyes widened. You had spent the rest of your money on buying the best ingredients you could afford, not wanting to turn up with half-assed chocolates.

“Have one,” you whisper and nudge him with your elbow, “go on.”

“But…” he glances at John.

“Don’t worry about him. He gets to eat these all the time when I make them.”

Finn places the bowl down and gingerly picks a chocolate out of the box, making John burst out, “Hey! You can’t have any if I can’t.”

“Not true,” you counter. His mouth blubs like a fish. “Finn can have some since he’s never tried them before. Plus you get to eat them when I make them and you like to steal one every now and then when you think I’m not looking.”

John gets up and engulfs you in a hug that you weren’t prepared for. Polly moves the crumble out of the way and puts the box of chocolates on the side, not wanting any of this to get in the way, she smiles fondly at the two of you. He presses a kiss to your lips, to which Finn turns and imitates sticking his fingers down his throat and being sick, sticking his tongue out. Polly abruptly hits his arm, making him jump and rub it.

At some point Arthur walks in from the betting den while you and John are making a cock-up of the potatoes. By this point, you’re both mucking about while Polly sits smoking a cigarette at the table, occasionally telling the two of you what to do with something. Finn had run off to fetch something for Polly while she took a break.

“I thought I heard trouble brewin’.”

You spin on your heels, “Arthur!”

You drop what you were doing and greet Arthur with a bear hug, making sure to keep your hands away from his clothes in case you made them dirty. He lets out a chuckle and when you’re finished hugging him, “I almost forgot you were here. Were you finishing something up?”

He nods, “Finished now. Pol’s pleased she’s got me for the day now. It was urgent. Anyway, while you were busy, er, cooking,” he offers a skeptical look when he peers at John over your shoulder, you smile, shaking your head at this, “I pushed the table to the middle of the room.”

Polly looks up from her position at the kitchen table, “Did you get out the cutlery and the napkins?”

“Got Finn setting it up now -- Tommy rang. Said he’d be here soon.”

Polly scoffs, “Whenever that means,” she drags on her cigarette before stubbing it out in the ashtray on the table, “let’s start plating up.”

It takes Tommy less than ten minutes to arrive. He brings his smiling son, Charlie with him. Ada knocks on the door not too soon after in tow with Karl, a pleasant surprise for Polly who had explained she wasn’t sure if Ada was going to be able to make it on time if at all.

Polly dragged Tommy into helping her plate up the food and Ada pulled you to a side in the betting den, now transformed into the dining room with enough chairs to seat you all and some.

“So,” she drawls, “have you and John… y’know, made anything a little more official? Tell me there’s at least a bun in the oven! You two have been making puppy eyes at each other for years and have been dating for almost two.”

Charlie and Karl run around the table, chasing each other while Finn desperately tries to get them to sit down for fear that Polly will tell him off for not being able to look after a couple of kids on his own. You glance at Finn fretting over the boys and shake your head, smiling fondly before turning your focus to Ada, “Nothing yet.”

“Yet?”

“Well,” you begin, suddenly going shy, “I’ve suggested a baby. He’s more than happy to comply with that.”

Ada’s hands wrap around yours, something she tended to do right before whispering something that was supposed to stay between the two of you. “Personally, I think he wants you to himself for just a little bit longer,” she whispers, “and I cannot wait until we reach that fateful day… oh just thinking about it no--”

“Ada, where’s Y/N?” John calls out.

Ada releases your hands from her hold and calls him over, “Here, John. We were just having a catch-up since it’s been so long. Let’s switch, mhm? I’ll help Polly so you can talk to your girlfriend,” she emphasises the ‘girlfriend’ part, winking at you as she scurries away, her hair bouncing before she halts to whisk Karl up to help in the Kitchen with her.

John rounds the corner, scooping you up in his arms and spinning the two of you round. You squeal having not expected it but enjoying his playful mood. When he sets you down again, he rests his palms on either side of your waist, pulling you closer to him. You lean back, fingers wrapped around his biceps to keep yourself steady as you look up at him.

“What is it?” You ask after he had been gazing at you for a little while, “Is there something on my fa--”

He lowers his head, lips meeting yours as he begins to kiss you, keeping it soft and suitable in front of the young, wandering eyes.

When he pulls away he rests his forehead on yours, “What was that for?”

“I love you,” he simply says.

“I love you too,” you feel a warmth bloom in your chest, making your heart beat that little bit faster than usual.

“John!” Arthur calls, “Did Charlie tell you if ‘im and Curly were coming or not? I wanna know if I should bully Finn into setting up another two seats or if I can rest.”

John rolls his eyes, grasping your hands and lacing his fingers through yours as he leads you back towards the kitchen as Finn aids Polly with the turkey. “He said he was coming. He said he’d also bring the folding camera, to which I assume Curly is coming since most of the fun stuff is usually his.”

Polly looks up from setting the turkey on the biggest dish you’d ever laid eyes on, “Perfect; I think we should take a family photo. Don’t you?” She asks no one in particular.

Tommy sighs, “It’ll take too much time.”

Ada waves him off, “Nonsense, all the best photos are taken in a limited amount of time. Plus we’ll be able to get everyone in it, it’ll be a good experience.”

Arthur wanders off, not wanting to have too much to do with this conversation and mutters something about setting up more places at the table.

After a little bit of back and forth arguing, Charlie and Curly arrive, camera in tow. Charlie has a cigarette dangling from his lips and Curly brings you into a hug, leaving Charlie clutching onto the camera equipment.

“Curly! I’ve missed seeing your smile every time I pop by to see the horses,” you grin as he replies back to you, “where’d you get the camera equipment anyway?”

“Oh,” he begins, “Tommy thought it’d be a grand idea if we got pictures with him and his horse after it won at the races so I searched high and low for something to please him. Eventually I found this set up and got it under my ownership soon after. Tommy even pulled me into the photo since I looked after it mostly.”

Charlie scoffcs, “Curly, you’re the only one who cares for the creatures as well as you do. I don’t know anyone with a heart quite like yours.”

Polly comes over and pulls Charlie and Curly towards the dining room having them set up the camera at one end of the table. Yourself and Curly finish the conversation when Polly returns, informing you that dinner was ready to be served.

Everyone made their way into the dining room, a plate full of food to be served up each. Ada had scribbled out quick namecards, insisting it made it more fun and then there also wouldn’t be the argument from previous years about who gets to sit next to who -- especially with the younger kids now. Of course, you were seated next to John and you were sure that you noticed the seats were a little bit closer than the rest of them scattered around the table. Nevertheless, you made your way to your seat. John stood behind you, pulling out the chair to which you smiled warmly, not wanting to call him out on his manners that he only pulled out in front of his Aunt and instead enjoying the gesture.

When you’re all seated, Polly stands at the head of the table, hands clasped together, apron thrown away to the side somewhere and hair falling at her shoulders. “Everyone,” it’s been a tough year, I know that much more than you think I might. I’m thrilled that we could all be here this evening and I hope we get to experience this again for many years to come.”

The candles dotting the tablecloth illuminate everyone’s faces, eyes wide as you all wait for what she is going to say.

“While the food is still hot, let’s take a picture, eh? Curly, love would you mind setting it up and running back round again?”

Curly nops, jumping up from his seat, making sure everything was in the right place and the flash was on a makeshift stand.

“Alright,” he says, “the lighting’s a bit funny, so if you could all stand, it might be better.”

Slowly, you all rise from your seats. John’s hand rests on your waist so you move to the side to lean into his touch and rest your head on his shoulder.

He presses kisses to your hair, “You look gorgeous in that dress, you know?” 

You lift your head to talk to him, “It’s the one you picked.”

“I saw,” he grins, proud of himself, “sorry it took me until now to compliment you. I was trying to calm you down for the first half of the day and spent the rest of it helping out around here.”

You shake your head, “It’s okay. I knew you liked it. You grinned and gave me a good lookin’ when I answered the door this morning in it.”

“You saw that?”

“How could I not?”

“All right,” Curly calls out, “I’m going to set it off now.”

“Kiss me,” you whisper to John.

He does.

Curly runs back to his seat, Ada rests her hand on Karl’s shoulder in front of you, Polly rests a hand on Arthur and Tommy either side of her, Tommy has Charlie in his arms. Curly stands proudly next to Uncle Charlie opposite you and Finn sits closest to the camera in front of his Uncle.

You almost miss Ada slapping Karl’s hand and shouting, “Those cookies are for Santa!” as the flash goes off.

It’s in this moment, that you know you wouldn’t want to be anywhere else in the world right now.

[worldwidemochiguy]

expectation ≠ reality (18+)

When you first met Jungkook, he was so kind, with wide eyes and a sweet smile, but soon enough he dragged you into a tumultuous marriage where you were barely allowed to draw breath on your own. But, when you meet Taehyung, the cute delivery boy with blond hair and a penchant for flirting, you start to wonder if you’ve found your second chance.

Masterlist

Warnings: Yandere behaviour, possessive behaviour, slight dub-con, graphic penetrative sex, DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE A MINOR pls im not tryna get arrested or anything

Word Count: 4K 

a/n: thanks to @gucieguciekook​ for requesting !! hope u enjoy lol <3

Expectation ≠ Reality

You have had enough.

From the moment you agreed to marry him, Jungkook had been getting steadily worse and worse. He had always been possessive to a fault, but you mistakenly saw it as a sign he truly cared and treasured you. You cooed over his obsession with littering hickeys all over your neck, blushed when he called you ‘Mine. Only mine.’ When he asked you to move in way too quickly, you thought it was a sign he was committed to your relationship.

How wrong you were.

Not that he isn’t committed, of course. God, if there was ever a word to describe Jeon Jungkook, it was committed. He is obsessed with you. He slowly started cutting you off from the outside world, persuading you to stay in when your friends invited you out, and convincing you they were terrible people when they inevitably stopped interacting with you. You had cut out everyone else in your life because of him. 

Your parents:

babe, they don’t approve of our relationship because they don’t want you to be happy with your own life, they want to control you and treat you like a kid. you don’t need them anyway, you have me. 

Your coworkers:

i called in sick for you today, babe. you don’t need to go there anymore, i have more than enough money for the both of us. 

Even your pet:

your cat? oh, i’m sorry baby, she got hit by a car. no, don’t cry, baby, now you can give all of your attention to me instead of that rancid furball. 

Jungkook had isolated you and exhausted you to the point where you agreed to marry him, convinced it could not make your life any worse. 

Again, you were wrong. 

With his ring on now your finger, Jungkook is even more assured of his ownership of you. You are no longer allowed to cook or go into the garden, both deemed as dangerous activities where you could somehow be harmed by a vegetable peeler, or maybe grass cuttings. You have no access to the internet, and the only books you are permitted to read are simple, dull books with no plot or dusty old historical text books, obviously the only things Jungkook is certain wouldn’t give you ‘silly ideas to confuse your pretty little head.’ 

~~~~

“Jungkook,” You murmur, voice muffled as he presses your face into the pillow.

“Yeah, baby, say my name just like that.” He grunts, attempting to tug off your skirt with one hand while the other is fisted in your hair. You roll your eyes and shift your weight so he can take it off properly. After he had separately ripped all your pants at some point in his haste to take them off you, you had realised it was simply easier to wear something less finicky.

As soon your lower half is bared for him, he starts running his large palms greedily over your skin, for his own benefit rather than yours.

“Fuck, look at you.” He mutters, before digging a thumb into a bruise he had left on your ass. You yelp and he chuckles lowly behind you. Just as you expect, he presses firmly on the bruise and you clench your teeth, burying your nails in your palms and refusing to make a noise. He waits for a second, but you remain stubbornly silent. 

“Huh,” he says, “I guess baby’s pain threshold has risen a bit, yeah?” He strokes a possessive hand between your shoulder blades and you repress a shiver, before he loops his arm around you and lifts you onto your hands and knees.

“I guess I’ll just have to fuck you harder then.” He resolves, before shoving himself into you roughly.

Jungkook is not small, putting it lightly, though you hate to afford any kind of praise to that bastard. He is long, and thick, and you really hadn’t been very turned on at all, just letting him do what he wanted so that he’d leave you alone, so you don’t blame yourself too much when a scream bursts out of your lips. You can barely hear his smug laugh behind you over the burning sensation in your core. He doesn’t give you any time at all to adjust, roughly pumping himself in and out as you try to hold in your whimpers.

“So fucking tight, baby.” He grunts in your ear, punctuating his words with harsh slaps against your thigh, “You sure you can handle my cock?” This is his offer: Admit that I’m hurting you, admit that you’re weak and at my mercy, and I’ll stop. That’s all you have to do.

You clench your teeth and press your face into the pillow again.

He sighs behind you, though you can tell he’s quietly pleased, before pulling out of you and walking away. Him yanking out and leaving you roughly stretched and exposed to the cold air is almost as painful as when he shoved into you in the first place, and when he returns you resent yourself for feeling the slightest hint of relief. 

He is carrying a bottle of lube, normally used for when he decides he wants to fuck your ass instead. You tense up, preparing to swallow your pride and beg him not to — it’s been a while and you’re not sure you can take the pain — but he senses your fear and smirks.

“Don’t worry baby, I’m just gonna make it a bit easier for you.” As he speaks, he’s slicking up his cock and soon enough he’s getting back up on his knees and taking ahold of your hips, pushing himself in slightly gentler this time. 

The coolness of the gel soothes — but doesn’t eradicate — the burn and Jungkook has started to move in long, rolling strokes inside you that are almost pleasant. 

“See, baby?” Jungkook coos as his hands move around to stroke your stomach, “I don’t want to hurt you, you have to know that. I hate hurting you, but you never tell me to stop. You have to know your limits, baby girl. You’re just not strong enough.”

His words — though patronising, and awful, and the kind of thing that make you want to whack him in the neck with one of those massive historical tomes he provides you — are spoken in that soft, Jungkook tone that he used to make you fall in love with him. It reminds you of those days when he was just Kookie, your cute study partner with a bunny smile and a pretty singing voice and broad muscly shoulders that flushed along with the rest of his body when you complimented him.

The Jungkook that you know him as now — the one swiftly bringing you to a reluctant and resentful orgasm — is the opposite of soft. He is rough and impulsive and controlling and you honestly fear what would happen if you tried to ask him for a divorce. He wouldn’t let you go, probably. He’d just laugh at you, and then shove you down and fuck you to make you remember who you really belonged to, like he is doing now.

You try to contain your pants as Jungkook starts a series of staccato thrusts. You are sure Jungkook would hear you, even over the obscene sound of his hips slapping into the back of your thighs, and would be obnoxiously proud about it for the next month. He would already be smug enough having made you come, which you have given up trying to stave off because Jungkook — damn him — is really good at fucking you until you can’t remember your own name. 

He reaches around to pinch your clit harshly and you decide that now is as good a time as any to give up your last remaining vestiges of pride. You come with a piercing whine, clenching around him rhythmically until his hips stutter and you feel the unpleasant sensation of warmth spilling into you. He doesn’t stop, pumping every last drop into you and then dropping on top of you, pinning your body to the mattress. 

After a while he rearranges himself so that he is spooning you, arms wrapped stiflingly tight around your waist, and his now-flaccid cock still tucked inside you. You grimace. Jungkook had always fallen fast asleep after sex, but now you are wide awake, hyperaware as he snores behind you. You don’t know what you’ve become. You hate him. But sometimes he says things that make you wish he wasn’t a monster, that make you wish he was the boy with soft smiles and expressive eyes that you had fallen in love with. You live for the resurgences of that humanity, because it is the only thing you have to look forward to, apart from the eventual day when Jungkook finally snaps and kills you.

~~~~

“Jungkook,” you say over breakfast, and he looks up with his cheeks full of pancake.

“Yes, my angel?” He asks, eyes twinkling — he loves when you say his name — and your breath catches, and for a second everything is perfect and you are having breakfast across from a boy who loves you more than anything. And then you see the annoyed glint in his eye — you hadn’t immediately answered his question — and you come crashing back to bitter reality. 

“I-” You start, then stop, unsure of how to phrase the question into a compliment, that way Jungkook is more likely to give you what you want.

“Say what you want to say, baby. You know how I hate to be kept waiting…” He gives you a shark’s smile. 

“I… I really loved all the books you gave me.” You tell him, making sure your voice is exactly the correct tone of gushing admiration.

“Really?” He replies, a pleased expression on his face as he strokes your hair back gently.

“Yes, and I- I was wondering if maybe… I could have some more?” 

His hand drifts down to rest at the hollow of your throat. It curls slightly.

“N-not that I’m not grateful-” You stammer, “B-But… I liked them all so much I read them too quickly, and now I have nothing else to do with you’re gone.” You end the statement with a playful pout, and you feel your self-loathing level up a notch. 

“Baby, you have to remember to take your time with things like that.” Jungkook grinned, standing up and getting his briefcase. You move to the door where you are supposed to administer a farewell kiss before he goes to work, just like always. 

He smiles, satisfied, before looking sideways slightly so you can get up on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek. He reaches around to squeeze your ass quickly, smirking when you squeak in shock.

“Don’t be greedy baby, take what you’re given.” He tosses a ‘Love you!’ over his shoulder as he goes, and when you call it back the words taste sour on your tongue. You wonder if you had ever uttered those words sincerely. 

~~~~

You had been thinking Jungkook had forgotten about your request for books, so when the doorbell rings at six o clock and you answer it to see a cute delivery boy with a bundle of books tucked under his arm, you are surprised to say the least. 

“D-Delivery for Jeon Jungkook?” He stutters, and you had been expecting him to have a slightly high, nervous voice so the deep, thick drawl shocks you in more ways than one. You can feel yourself melt just looking at him. His eyes are so… innocent, just like Jungkook’s when you first saw him. His nose cutely scrunches as his blond hair — longer than Jungkook’s — falls in soft clumps over his eyes. He huffs a lopsided breath and the light strands flutter about momentarily, before settling back just where they were. You think you’ve fallen in love.

You realise you’ve been staring at him this entire time, but to be fair, he has been staring right back, and you feel yourself become flustered.

“Uh, yeah, that’s me. That’s my package.”

“Sorry ma’am,” He starts in his honey voice, before grinning. He seems to gain confidence due to your flustered state. “-but this package is addressed to a Mr Jeon Jungkook, and you certainly don’t look like a ‘Mr’.” He mutters as his eyes drag up and down your form. You are only in your nightie — Jungkook always likes it when you wear pretty, flimsy things — and this stranger’s gaze is making you blush in a way you know Jungkook wouldn’t be happy about.

“Yeah, that’s… uh, that’s my husband. Jeon Jungkook.”

“Your husband, huh?” The delivery boy does not seem put off by the mention of a husband, in fact, he seems almost spurred on by it. “And where is Mr Jeon Jungkook right now?”

“He’s working late. He would normally be back by now but he called and said he’s spending the night at the office.”

“Working late, huh?” The delivery boy repeats in that cocky drawl, and oddly enough, it reminds you of Jungkook. “You know, if I had a wife like you waiting for me to come home, I don’t know if I’d even make it out of bed long enough to go to work in the morning, let alone stay there overnight.” 

Your eyes widen as your cheeks darken, and his open, bright laughter is the nicest thing you’ve heard in months.

“What happened to the nervous delivery boy?” You spluttered indignantly, and his laughing slowed down, though his eyes were still twinkling. Just like Jungkook’s used to do.

“He relaxed when he realised you were just as affected by him as he was by you.”

“Who says I’m affected by you?” You ask boldly, and then immediately retreat a step when he moves towards you. 

“You’re giving yourself away, sweetheart.” He smirks, before advancing another step into your home. “You know… empty house… husband at work… it seems a waste not to use this opportunity.” He waggles his eyebrows at you, and you scoff, forcing him back with both hands until he is outside the door again. He lets you push him with a brow raised lazily.

“That sounded like a line from a bad porno, and I’m pretty sure Jungkook would literally kill me if he found out.” You fake a laugh, covering up your very real and valid fear that Jungkook would actually kill you.

“Jungkook’s the possessive type, huh?” 

Yes, you scream internally.

“Well, I’m pretty sure no husband would like delivery boys sleeping with their wives.”

“What about delivery boys visiting their wives during the day?”

You pause, hands floating in midair, about to take the parcel out of the delivery boy’s hands.

“Huh?”

“I could come around in the day while your husband’s at work-” He sped up when you raised your brows, “-not to do anything, or at least, anything that you’re uncomfortable with, but just to talk. I can tell you’re lonely.” You scoff and roll your eyes, ignoring the fact that he’s absolutely correct. You turn back to him, ready to decline his offer, when you see his puppy eyes. Your resolve crumbles.

“I don’t know,” You had no way of telling what punishments Jungkook would submit you to if he found out. He didn’t even let you talk to your parents, so you could hardly imagine he’d be pleased with you chatting to young, attractive men while alone at your house.

“Come on!” The delivery boy wheedled. “He’d never know. He’s practically asking for it, he leaves you alone day after day, all you have for company are these stupid books!” A dismissive gesture to the collection of Austen, Dickens and Shakespeare you are carrying. “Aren’t you bored? Don’t you want a little excitement?”

You tiredly fumble around for an excuse.

“I don’t even know your name.”

“My name’s Taehyung.” He introduces himself promptly. “I’d like to visit you tomorrow at lunch time, if that’s alright.”

“You sure you don’t have a delivery then?” You ask hopefully.

“I don’t.”

You release a weary sigh.

“You’re going to come no matter what I say, aren’t you?” He responds with a blinding grin.

“I love that we’re learning things about each other! You can already anticipate my actions,” He starts listing off ‘facts’ on his fingers, “you know my name, I know you’re trapped in an unsatisfying marriage-”

“I’ll see you tomorrow Taehyung.” You shut the door firmly, cutting him off.

You hear a muffled ‘can’t wait!’ from the other side of the door and if you happen to blush and giggle like a lovesick schoolgirl it doesn’t matter because no one else is there and therefore it cannot be proved.

~~~~

Taehyung starts paying you regular visits. He keeps up his job obligations even when he’s off the clock, bringing you food that Jungkook wouldn’t let you eat, newspapers since Jungkook doesn’t let you know what was going on in the outside world, and even snapshots of his day. 

Taehyung is an aspiring photographer. He has a small apartment outside of the city and an obsession with strawberries and a dog called Yeontan. He has a life, a life that you are desperately beginning to yearn for. Taehyung tells you once that he wishes he could take a photo of you outside, because he knows this perfect spot — a field full of wildflowers and sunshine that would compliment your beauty perfectly — and you burst into tears. 

You tell him, as he rocks you gently in his arms, that you are trapped by Jungkook. That you hate your husband more than anything. That you can’t remember the last time you felt the sun on your skin. And so, quietly, carefully, the two of you begin to plot.

It is not as simple as calling the police. Jungkook has enough money that there is no crime he cannot buy his way out of, no officer he cannot bribe into submission. No, you have to disappear completely. You begin passing along your possessions to Taehyung so he can take them back to his place, gradually, so that Jungkook doesn’t notice you are withdrawing from his life one pair of shoes at a time. 

You daren’t risk taking any money of Jungkook, but Taehyung tells you it isn’t a problem, which is slightly strange since you know Taehyung must have quit his delivery boy job so that he could see you every day, and surely he could do with some extra cash. You tell yourself it’s sweet that he doesn’t care about material things, he just cares about you.

“What are these?” Jungkook asks one morning, when he is greeted not with eggs sunny side up and a kiss, but a stack of papers.

“A divorce contract.” You tell him, trying to ignore the waver in your voice. He only raises an eyebrow at you, and you blanch.

You had been expecting yelling, threats, maybe even violence. Taehyung had begged you to just leave without a trace, and abandon Jungkook to his own horrid life of loneliness, but you just can’t do that, even if it is the safer option. There is still a small, pathetic part of you that clings to the idea of Kookie, the boy with wire-rimmed glasses and carefree smiles who always accepted your help with questions he couldn’t answer. Even though you know that side of him is now long-dead, if it ever even existed in the first place.

However, Jungkook is currently subverting all of your expectations. He sits there calmly, leafing through the papers.

“These don’t make any sense.” He remarks. You attempt to snatch them back, but he holds them out of your reach.

“Yes, well, I wasn’t really expecting you to read them.” You reply, embarrassed. The fake contract had been your idea, a way of telling Jungkook you wanted a divorce without actually saying the words. Of course, you had expected him to fling them into the fire, or something equally as dramatic, not read through them carefully and snort at all the typos. 

“I understand.” He declares eventually. “You want my attention, so you’re pretending that you want to leave me. Very funny, baby.”

“That’s not true!” You burst out, cheeks burning. “I am leaving you, divorce contract or not.” 

“Hush, baby, you know I don’t like it when you lie.” Jungkook purrs, his eyes burning dangerously.

“I don’t care what you like anymore, Jungkook.” You respond, suddenly furious, “I’ve spent so many years as your wife, being terrified by you, being controlled and miserable. Now I’ve got Taehyung, and I’m finally happy! I love him, Jungkook, not you. I’m leaving.” 

You turn away and storm to the door, but hesitate when you hear Jungkook chuckle.

“If you think you are liberating yourself by going to Kim Taehyung… you are wrong, baby.” 

“H-How do you know his family name?” You ask, fear starting to invade your mind.

“I know a lot of things about Mr Kim,” Jungkook spits, and his anger starts to bleed through. “He is not who you think he is, baby. Are you sure you want to go?” His patronising tone is the last straw for you. 

“I’d rather die than stay here with you.”

“Who knows, baby, Mr Kim might just fulfil your wish.” You blanch again, hesitating with your hand on the lock, a breath away from freedom.

“Y-You’re just trying to scare me.” You stutter, and you hear him sigh behind you.

“No, baby, I’m trying to warn you, but you insist on being so, so dumb. I don’t like to see you hurt, remember? But, if this will teach you a lesson about how lucky you are to have me, I guess I’ll have to let you go. Just remember, baby, when you’re with him and it’s not all you expect it to be, I will be coming for you.” As he speaks, he rises from his seat and moves across the room until he is right behind you, his breath ghosting on the back of your neck as you stubbornly refuse to turn, hand still poised on the latch.

“I’m not coming back.” You whisper, and you feel a huff of laughter against your neck.

“No, baby, I’ll rescue you, and take you back. I promise, you’ll be counting the days until you’re in my arms again.”

~~~~

Jungkook watches from the window as your harried form disappears into the distance. Cursing softly to himself, he turns on his phone and pulls up a number he is loathe to possess. 

“So, she left you, huh?” A cocky voice drawls across the line.

“Shut it, Kim.” Jungkook snaps, “She’s still my wife, she still belongs to me.”

“Oh? You didn’t sign the divorce papers?”

“Yes, very funny by the way, Kim. ‘I hereby announce that Kim Taehyung has been our mother’s favourite from the moment of his conception.’ You should’ve become a comic instead of a criminal.” Jungkook reads a line from the fake files. 

“Well, I could say the same to you, baby brother, allowing your wife to leave you like this. It’s the funniest thing I’ve heard in years.”

“Half-brother.” Jungkook growls. “And she hasn’t left me.”

“The tracker I planted on her begs to differ.”

“She’s just…” Jungkook huffs, “Confused.”

“No, she’s just got good taste, obviously.”

“You really are pathetic, stealing your little brother’s toys like this, hyung.” Jungkook taunts. “Soon, very soon, I’m going to come and get her back. I better not find her too broken when I get there.” 

Jungkook hangs up, mutters a curse under his breath, and then starts planning the inevitable gang war he’s going to have to embroil himself in because his wife can’t keep her damn legs closed.

[idiopath-fic-smile]

more 1950s lesbian amis

continued from this.

in which grantaire makes coffee, and a friend.

“Good morning,” said Chester. “Is that a new dress?”

It was not. Grantaire looked up warily from her sketchpad. She wasn’t good-looking enough for this to be anything but a ploy.

“Do you need something, Chester?” she asked in her sweetest voice, all cotton candy fumes.

“Secretary’s out this morning,” he told her. “That’s why there’s no coffee yet.” And there, it all clicked into place. 

Grantaire schooled her face as blank as she could make it; if she was going to reach his conclusion, he’d have to drag her there.

“Thank you but I picked up a cup on my way here,” she said, nodding at her half-empty styrofoam cup. After last night’s disaster at the Musain, she had been unable to even imagine the L ride to the office without a fortifying blast of caffeine. 

Chester stared meaningfully; Grantaire stared back, meaningless.

“Grantaire,” said Chester, as if talking to one very stupid, “do you think you could brew us a pot?”

Grantaire blinked. “Does this normally fall to the staff cartoonist when the secretary’s away?”

Chester made a suppressed sound of deep irritation. He spread his hands, appealing. “Listen, I could struggle through trying to make coffee for the office and no doubt poison everyone trying, or you could do it, and add that homey little touch I know all the fellas would appreciate.”

Homey. It was not a word you’d apply to Grantaire’s garden-level one-bedroom, which boasted stained wallpaper and a stove straight out of the Coolidge administration. Homely, maybe. Chester was the one with a home, and a wife, and a fat little baby and the money for a comfortable life.

“It’s only fair to divide the work according to natural aptitude, sweetheart,” Chester was saying, and it was the sweetheart that snapped Grantaire like a rubber band, that word deployed like a pat on the head, like penny candy for a crying baby, like a scrap of baloney to a dog, like it could only ever be the bitterest pity or the cruelest joke in concert with Grantaire’s face, with Grantaire’s entire being.

“‘From each according to their ability, to each according to their needs,’” she murmured in an agreeing tone.

“Now you got it,” Chester started, then frowned.

“Karl Marx, Chester,” said Grantaire. “Keep up, or someone might need to place a call to ol’ Joe.”

Chester’s entire countenance soured. “This is why you should leave it to the men to make the jokes,” he said, “and stick to what you can do--”

Grantaire stood. “I’ll make the coffee,” she said.

“There,” said Chester, “did that need to be such a production?”

The “Golden Ratio,” according to a high school Home Economics course which Grantaire had frankly passed by the skin of her teeth, was one to two tablespoons of coffee for every six ounces of hot water. Grantaire remembered this by virtue of having gotten it wrong many, many times. She was no good with math but the machine took thirty-six ounces of water, which meant the ideal amount of grounds was somewhere between six and twelve tablespoons.

“Stars shining bright above you,” Grantaire hummed under her breath, measuring and dumping coffee grounds into the filter. One, two, three, four, five.

Grantaire had gotten it wrong in high school because nobody in her house drank coffee. She hadn’t discovered the jolting benefits herself until her first year of art school, as the deadlines began to pile and the available time to meet them began to wane.

“Night breezes seem to whisper, I love you,” Grantaire hummed. Six, seven, eight, nine, ten.

If there had been a way to brave the choppy academic waters of work and criticism without chemical assistance, that path had been invisible to Grantaire. She had tried, she had cried, she had turned down “diet pills” that the other girl in her program swore by only because Grantaire figured her own figure couldn’t afford to be more unflatteringly stick-thin.

“Birds singing in the sycamore trees--” Eleven, twelve. Thirteen, fourteen, fifteen.

The scrutiny and the pressure tempered the freedom of those heady days away from her parents. The expectation that Grantaire was only studying art as a way of killing time, until some charitable man came along to marry her, unless the poor dear simply couldn’t find anyone--she had found a survival strategy of her own, a roughly stitched-together patchwork of sarcasm and wine and more sarcasm, and coffee brewed so thick and strong it barely qualified as liquid.

“Dream a little dream of me.” Sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty. Grantaire went ahead and dumped in the rest of the bag.

Grantaire was making shaky progress on her first deadline when Douglas stopped by her desk.

“Listen,” he blustered, “is this some kind of a joke?”

“Hm?”

“Your coffee’s undrinkable, it’s--” he faltered as Grantaire took a long swallow of the tarry substance in her mug. It was gritty and bitter, but by the standards of her art school years, only qualified as “medium dark.”

“Doug,” she said calmly, “if it’s too strong for you, you’re free to add plenty of milk and sugar.” She took another sip, meeting his eyes all the while. 

He spun on the heel of his expensive dress shoe. As he stormed away, she could hear him mutter, at a passive-aggressive volume designed to be just-barely audible, but audible nonetheless, “No wonder she doesn’t have a man yet, can’t even make coffee right.”

“Grantaire?”

She looked up. The secretary was back from wherever she’d been, apparently.

“Hello,” said Grantaire, hoping that if she kept a friendly enough countenance, the secretary might not notice that Grantaire did not remember her name. “Are you feeling better?”

The secretary smiled, polite. She was young but plain, although not as plain as Grantaire. “Thank you, it was my mother, actually. She’s a little under the weather so I stopped home to bring her some soup and heat it up for her.” Grantaire nodded as if that kind of filial duty was a part of her daily life, too. 

“Well, I hope her condition improves soon.” “Thank you, that’s very kind.” An awkward pause began to bloom. Into it, Grantaire blurted, “Sorry if you had the coffee today.” “Oh,” said the secretary, “no, no, I drink tea.” Of course she did, thought Grantaire. She had the look of someone well acquainted with the proper use of a cup and saucer. She lowered her voice slightly. “Douglas informed me all about this morning’s coffee maker adventure.” She lowered her voice a little more. “In some detail.” “Yes, I must have lost count spooning in the grounds,” said Grantaire blandly. “I can’t imagine how it slipped my mind.” “I can,” said the secretary with a crooked smile. Somehow, with both eyes wide open, she gave the impression of winking. “Say, Grantaire. I don’t suppose you could take your lunch break with me? There’s a park across the street, it’s very quiet. Private.” Grantaire nodded. “Good,” said the secretary. That crooked smile again. “My name is Combeferre, by the way.”

“You know, I saw you the other day,” said Combeferre as she neatly removed a packet of celery sticks wrapped in waxed paper from her lunch bag. “Did you.” Grantaire ran through her mental list of places she’d been over the past several days. If she was very, very lucky, maybe Combeferre simply meant that she’d glimpsed Grantaire at the Jewel, picking up some groceries for her tragically empty fridge. Combeferre glanced around the park in a very natural, off-hand way. “At the Musain,” she said. Grantaire’s stomach dropped. She could feel her grip on her turkey sandwich going white-knuckled. “Chester and Murray, such a pair of jokesters,” she said at last. “I suppose I was being hazed last night--” “No, I saw you last Thursday,” said Combeferre quiety. “By yourself.” Grantaire hadn’t been in there for more than forty-five seconds. Had all of Chicago seen? She felt something bubble up inside her. “So,” said Grantaire, trying to match Combeferre’s even, calm voice. “Is this blackmail, then? I’m afraid you’ll have to wait until I’ve gotten my first check, I’m a bit light at the moment.” Combeferre blinked. “Oh dear,” she said, “oh no, you misunderstand me completely. I saw you from inside.” “You were there?” said Grantaire, feeling very dumb for not having picked up on any sign of Sapphism earlier. There was nothing obvious in her manner or dress. The comment about stopping home to see her mother might have suggested she was still living with her parents, and thus unmarried, but plenty of girls did that. Of course, not every woman of a woman-loving bent chose to broadcast it to the world like that short-haired Amazon in the bar restroom. Combeferre’s hairdo and clothes were no doubt chosen for hiding, like Grantaire’s. “Do you have plans this weekend?” Combeferre asked, and Grantaire attempted not to look entirely pole-axed. Was this a pass? Grantaire felt no immediate pull, but, wretchedly, she realized she was lonely enough to consider it. She raised her eyebrows. “You see, I belong to, um, a social organization,” Combeferre continued, unaware. “We could use some new members, and it would be so nice to know someone else at work--” “Is it a book group?” said Grantaire. “A tupperware exchange? A cat appreciation society?” Combeferre smiled. “I do like cats,” she said. “No, we’re. Hm. The Chicago branch of a group of like-minded individuals who find ourselves on a slightly divergent path from the majority of mankind. It’s a very relaxed, informal thing. We’re meeting at the apartment of a friend for spaghetti dinner on Saturday. I can give you the details if you’re interested.” “And you’re all women?” Grantaire said. “We are,” said Combeferre. What the hell. It wasn’t as if there was a line of people waiting to make Saturday night plans with her. “Alright,” said Grantaire. “Wonderful.” Combeferre gave her an address, although Grantaire didn’t know the city well enough for it to mean much without a map. Her eyes briefly scanned the park again. “And I should add that you don’t have to use your real name,” she said. “In fact, I think most of us don’t.” “Some tupperware club you’re running, lady,” said Grantaire, and Combeferre half-laughed. “I was going to leave you a note,” said Combeferre, “on your desk, explaining everything in advance, but then my mother was sick and there wasn’t any time.” “If anyone saw what you wrote,” Grantaire started. “In shorthand, of course. None of the men would understand.” “I can’t read shorthand,” said Grantaire. “I took a course on it but that was about the time I realized my future would need to be elsewhere.” “I was going to be a physician,” said Combeferre dreamily. Grantaire turned to face her. “I had the grades, you know. Biology was my best subject, and I enjoy helping people.” “What happened?” Grantaire asked uneasily.

“Oh,” said Combeferre. “I had a marvelous professor. I’d asked him to write me a recommendation, and he pulled me aside and explained that if I’d have to do twice the work for half the respect, which was of course the truth. I considered nursing, but a life of emptying bedpans and dodging the head doctor’s wandering hands didn’t appeal.” “So instead you empty inboxes and dodge Richard’s wandering hands,” said Grantaire. “You’ll fit right in with my friends,” Combeferre said with another smile. “I’m sorry about what my friend said to you last night. She has an excellent heart and is a key part of our set, but she can be somewhat severe.”

“Do you mean the Hippolyta who cornered me in the powder room?” “Undoubtedly,” said Combeferre. Then, “oh, and definitely don’t call her that!” “Wouldn’t dream of it,” said Grantaire.

[gumilac]

Summer Confessions (Iwaoi one-shot)

It was the middle of January, the sun was scorching hot making Oikawa drip with sweat. Oikawa thought it was a good idea to go to the beach with his childhood friend, Iwaizumi. Because it was summer anyway, the perfect time right? Well, he kind of regrets it now, because under certain circumstances it brought him to this scenario. He and Iwaizumi will share an ice cream because they both don’t have enough money to buy two.

It seems like a perfectly normal scenario between friends, so why is Oikawa freaking out about it? That’s because he may have a tiny crush on his friend. Okay who is he kidding, he’s in love. As much as Oikawa denies it, his feelings for him are true. So, sharing ice cream with Iwaizumi means they’ll indirectly kiss, and that makes the setter go crazy. But, he keeps his cool as they both stand in front of the ice cream stand.

“Hi! What can I get for you guys?”, a sing-songy voice echoes through Oikawa’s ears and snaps him out of his trance. He looks up and he is greeted by a big smile from the girl working in the stall.

“Hey, can I get one mint choco chip?”, Iwaizumi states casually. Oikawa’s favorite flavour.

“Okay! Will you have it in a cone or cup?”, the worker asks, and Iwaizumi takes a moment to scan the prices. Oikawa thought he’d be spared from his embarrassment because if Iwaizumi chooses the cup, they’ll have their own spoons.

“Hmm, I’ll take a cone.”, the ace replies. Ah, a cone. Oikawa felt like the universe was testing him and ignoring his pleas. “This is okay”, the brunet thought to himself. It was not, he could hear his heartbeat in his eardrums and as if the heat from the sun wasn’t enough to make him sweat, his palms perspired and got clammy. He tried to keep his cool as the two of them walked over to the beach. They sat down on the warm sand and they were just in time for sunset. The brunet sees Iwaizumi take a bite and he offers the ice cream. This was too much for Oikawa’s heart to bear but he kept calm and took a bite. Little did Oikawa know, Iwaizumi already knew how jittery his friend was from the start but just ignored it. They stayed quiet as they ate the ice cream. After a few minutes, the ice cream was long gone and they sat there, a comforting quietude enveloping them. Iwaizumi breaks the silence, making Oikawa jump.

“You know, you suck at hiding how you feel.”, the statement makes Oikawa nervous and unable to look Iwaizumi in the eye. He can’t confess. He can’t afford to lose his best friend. Being beside him was enough, but why does he long for more? He doesn’t even know if Iwaizumi feels the same way.

“W-what do you mean?”, the brunet stutters with his words, failing miserably to keep his cool.

“You really didn’t think I wouldn’t notice how uneasy you are?”, of course, Iwaizumi noticed. He would always find out what was wrong. When Oikawa would get lost, the jet-black-haired boy would always find his way back to the brunet.

“O-oh that? Heh, I was just nervous because we shared an ice cream and that means we… indirectly kissed.”, Oikawa states the last part quietly. He wasn’t wrong, he really was nervous at what happened and now with Iwaizumi’s answer. Iwaizumi fell quiet and Oikawa couldn’t look him in the eyes. He looks up when he hears his best friend laugh, and he is met with a deadly smile from Iwaizumi. It was breathtaking. He was breathtaking, the way the sun touched and decorated his features was magnificent. Oikawa thought to himself. The laughter dies down and Iwaizumi replies voice low.

“Why’d you think I shared with you then?”, Iwaizumi looks into Oikawa’s eyes, holding so much truth and the brunet could see the weight of the words his best friend just uttered.

“Oh.”, was all Oikawa could say. Iwaizumi laughs again and puts an arm around his shoulder placing a kiss on his forehead.

“I like you, dumbass”, Iwaizumi’s confession makes Oikawa feel like he was on cloud nine

“Me too.”, satisfied that his best friend feels the same way, he scoots closer to Iwaizumi. Oikawa suddenly feels a hand on his cheek. Iwaizumi makes the brunet look his way and he places a soft and chaste kiss on Oikawa's lips. The brunet was taken aback by Iwaizumi's actions but returns the gesture. The kiss wasn't short but it wasn't long enough for them. Iwaizumi pulls away and smiles at the setter. This was everything Oikawa wanted and knowing Iwaizumi wanted it too made him ecstatic. They end the day as they watch the sky turn into a thousand glowing embers.

[mykie-min]

Come Home - Part 2

Themes: Poly!BTS, Hybrid AU

Warnings: none that I can think of yet

Word Count: 4k

A/N:  I didn’t play on posting this for a few more days, but the first part got so much love that I wanted to just do it now. I have most of part 3 thought out, so I’ll try to start on it this weekend. Thank you so much for reading! 

The sun had set by the time you reached their home. Jin parked in front of the house, turning to look at the scene behind him, an adoring smirk gracing his face. In the duration of the half hour drive from the city, the maknae’s had all managed to curl around you, the excess warmth and sound of rain against the windows effectively lulling all four of you to sleep. You’d turned on Taehyung’s lap, side curled into his chest, head tucked under his chin. Legs bent over Jimin’s lap, who himself was slumped against Tae’s side, head on his shoulder. Jungkook leaned against your back, face pressed into your hair while your tail curled around him.

The four still awake slowly made their way out of the car, Hobi quickly a picture of the sleeping pile, briefly stretching from the car ride. Namjoon shook Jimin’s shoulder while Jin attempted to wake Jungkook. The resulting grumbles are what brought you back to the moment. You felt warm fingers gently brushing the hair from your forehead. “Wake up kitten, we’re home.”

Yoongi. You knew without even seeing him. You pulled yourself away from the comforting scent of Taehyung’s neck, who was still in his own dream world. Yoongi smiled at you, reaching out to help you from the car. You took his hand, sliding off of Taehyung and out of the car. “Looks like you had a good nap.” He chuckled as you rubbed your eyes, letting him lead you into the house. Your eyes took it everything they could manage in your still waking state. The size of the house was quite large, but given how many occupants it held, it made sense.

It was also very simple, compared to your master’s house at least. But it was perfect, it showed the humble nature of the people who lived here. “I ordered dinner on the way home. Jimin, Tae can you set the table?” Hobi called out as everyone took off their shoes at the door. You slipped off the simple black slip on sneakers (also stolen from someone’s doorstep) and followed the group into the living room. “On Saturdays we always order our favorite take out and have a movie night. I think its Jungkook’s turn to pick the movie tonight.” He informs you with the smile that never seems to leave him.

“We’re watching the second Avengers movie.” The pup said, tail wagging as he stood next to you. “Or we can watch something else, which marvel movie is your favorite y/n?”

“I’ve never seen one.” You answered, curious eyes still taking in every aspect of the interior.

“You’ve never seen a marvel movie?! Okay, new plan. We’re starting with the first Iron Man then.” He smiled at you, “He’s the best hero anyway.” He ended with a wink. You smiled back at him, unable to stop his excitement from sinking into you. The sound of the doorbell brought all eyes to the front door where Hobi was walking, taking out his wallet. “Foods here, come on y/n, lets go sit down.” He left his hand on the back of your neck, leading you beside him into the other room.

Everyone took a seat around the large dining table that had two long benches in place of regular chairs. Jimin pat the spot next to him which you easily took while Jungkook sat on your other side. Namjoon sat across from you, his dimples showing as he watched the three of you. Seeing how the younger ones had taken such a liking to you, it made him feel protective of you already, like you were already a part of his pack. Jimin took the cup sitting in front of you, pouring a dark red liquid into it.

“What is it?” you asked as he set it back down in front of you.

“Black currant tea. It’s made with berries.” He couldn’t help but smile at you. It was sad how little you knew about things they thought were so commonplace, but he was happy you were so curious about everything. A curious little kitten. He thought to himself.

Jungkook took it open himself to fill your plate with food like Yoongi and Tae had done at the park. Your eyes widened at the sight of fresh cooked meat in different sauces in front of you. “Yah Jungkook. You can’t just feed her meat. Give her some vegetables too.” Namjoon scolded the youngster, trying not to laugh. He picked up the container of steamed veggies, spooning some onto your plate in the one spot Jungkook hadn’t filled.

“But it’s the best part. y/n, these are the best lamb skewers in the whole city.” Jungkook picked up a stick, holding one end with each hand and bit off a large piece of the grilled meat. You copied him, holding it the same way and eating. Unknowingly you started copying every bite he took. Though Jungkook did notice, and so he begrudgingly started to eat his own vegetables. Namjoon watched it all fondly, happy that the maknae seemed so concerned with you that he would eat better just to set a good example.

“y/n what’s your favorite breakfast? We’ll make it in the morning.” Jin asked. He desperately wanted to make sure you ate all that you wanted while you were with them.

“I don’t know, he would have the maid only give me hybrid pellets before.”

“Hyung, we should make waffles. Everyone loves those.” Taehyung spoke up, trying to keep the groups mood from dipping lower the more they learned about where you came from.

“Or kimchi rice.” Jungkook said through a mouth full of food.

“Chew your food, you’re not an animal.” Yoongi scolded.

“Technically we’re all at least 30% animal.”  

“And I’m 30% ready to kick your ass if you don’t fix your table manners.”

The table erupted in laughter around you at the two bickering. The mood lifted from just a moment ago. You smiled as you continued eating, happy taking in every bite that was offered to you. This felt like everything you’d ever dreamed a real home would feel like. Family spending time together, laughing and smiling with each other. It’s all you ever wanted from a home. But all you’ve ever known is a dark basement and cruelty.

“Alright everyone clear the table. Tae, it’s our turn for dishes.” Namjoon spoke as everyone stood from the table, disposing of the empty food containers and piling dishes in the sink. You watched Namjoon turn the tap on and grab a sponge, while Taehyung stood next to him with a towel.

Ears perking, you hopped over to join them by the sink. “I want to help.” You really wanted to help, not just because you felt guilty about how much they’d already given you, but because this seemed like a part of their family dynamic. They did everything together and helped each other. You wanted to be apart of it, to know what it was like while it lasted. The two smiled at each other before looking down at your giddy expression. No one had ever looked so happy to do chores.

“Alright, you dry the dishes and I’ll put them away when your done.” Tae handed you the towel and pet your hair back lovingly. The others watched the scene with content smiles. With every moment that went by it seemed more evident that you fit in perfectly. You were supposed to be here all along.

“I’m going to make a few calls. See what I can dig up on her.” Hoseok whispered to Jin and Yoongi once they had moved into the living room. He didn’t want to get the younger ones hopes up in case there was nothing they could do to help. Chances were your owner was looking for you and if he was rich enough to afford a black-market exotic hybrid, he probably had money for good lawyers. Their best chance was to have you declared an emergency rescue and taken under his shelters name. The older women who owned the shelter had a big heart and would do everything she could to help every hybrid that came thru their door. Once he told her about you, there was no way your owner would get you back without a fight. Not if you didn’t want to go back willingly.

Yoongi vocalized those thoughts exactly. “y/n’s not going to that prick. Not with the way he’s been treating her.”

“We don’t know any details for sure.” Jin tried to reason, though he felt the same. They had to do everything by the book.

“She thought she had to ask for permission to eat Jin. He’s never even given her a proper meal, no wonder she’s so small if she’s only had pellets for the last five years.” Angrily sighing, he ran a hand through his hair. “And her clothes don’t even fit her. I lived on the streets long enough to know what stolen clothing looks like. She probably had no choice.”

“I know, Yoongi, I know. We all want to help her. But we have to do this right. There are new laws now that can help her if her owner really was the terrible. But we have to move carefully.” Jin pulled his friend into a strong hug. “For now, no one knows she’s here. Tomorrow we’ll ask if she wants to stay with us.”

“We should ask her tonight.” Yoongi grumbled. He didn’t have the patience the humans did to deal with this on his own. To him it was black and white. You hated your old home enough to run away, so why should you have to go back? Surely your owner would treat you even worse as punishment. But there were gray areas were the laws were concerned. Yes, hybrids had more rights now. But they were still considered property.

“Tomorrow. After she gets a good night’s rest. I’m sure she hasn’t had that in a while. We don’t know what’ll happen tomorrow, so let’s give her a good night here at least.” Jin didn’t want to admit how worried he was that things would go bad. Your owner could find out where you were and demand you back. Without the proper steps laid out, they’d have to let him take you.

He let Yoongi join the other two hybrids on the couch. They’d all changed into comfier clothes and were playing video games while they waited to start the movie. He walked back into the kitchen to see you all nearly done with cleaning. You were laughing at a story Tae was telling you about why Namjoon can’t be trusted to use the stove without supervision. The sound of your laughter lifted the worry from his heart, just a bit.

“y/n, would you like to take a bath before the movie?” Jin asked as you dried the last plate Namjoon handed you.

“A bath?” you couldn’t stop your tail from giving away your excitement. You’d never had a real bath before, just rushed showers before you had to dress up and be a good little trophy. Taehyung took the plate from your hands, leaning over to press a kiss to your hair.

“Go on, don’t forget to scrub behind your ears.” You giggled as he hit your bum with the towel as you walked past. “Jin-hyung, use the good bath stuff! The one that smells like honey!”

Jin pet your head as he led you through the living room and upstairs. “Jimin, can you get something for y/n to sleep in? I think you’re closest to her size.”

“Coming hyung!” he called as he ran to catch up to you. “I’ll get you something super soft. Have to be comfy to watch movies properly.” You smiled in thanks as he walked further down the hallway while you followed Jin into another room. The bathroom was huge, bigger than the little corner of the basement that was your room. Even the bathtub was bigger than you had ever seen. You could easily sit in it completely and only your head would stick you. Jin pulled a fluffy white towel out of one cabinet and grabbed a few different products out of another.

You watched as he leaned over the faucet, turning it on and letting the water fill the tub. After pouring in a sweet-smelling liquid you heard Jimin enter behind you. “Hyung, you should use a bath bomb. One of the colorful ones.”

“A bomb?” They both tried not to laugh at your shocked face.

“Not really a bomb. It’s a something that dissolves in the water. It makes the bath a different color and smells really good. Some even have glitter in them.” Jimin led you to a basket full of different colored shapes. “Kookie and Tae love these, they collect most of them. They don’t mind sharing though. Pick whichever one you like.” Your eyes were immediately drawn to a bright pick star shaped one, picking it up Jimin smiled. “Good choice. That one smells like strawberry cake.”

Taking you back over to the bath, he took your hand in his and helped you drop it into the water. They watched your eyes widen at the sight of the bath instantly turning pink, the color swirling around as it dissolved. “All set then. Clothes are on the counter. Take your time, we’ll be downstairs when your done.” Jin started to lead the calico out of the bathroom to leave you to yourself for a bit.

“Jin.” Immediately he turned back to you, seeing your ears turned low. “I’ve never…washed my hair by myself before…the maid always helped me.” You felt like a bother, but he just smiled softly at you.

“Don’t worry, I’ll wait outside, just call for me when you need my help.” The request wasn’t that strange to him. All of the hybrids had needed help with something or other at the beginning. More then anything it warmed his heart to know you weren’t afraid to ask it of him. Maybe that meant you felt safe with him, knew he wasn’t anything like your master.

After ridding yourself of your stolen clothes, you let your body submerge in the water, the warmth seeping into your bones, easing the tension every muscle for the first time. After relishing in the feeling for a few minutes, you set to cleaning yourself up. Scrubbing away at the weeks of hidden grime on your skin. You’d made sure to stay as clean as you could so as not to look to much like a runaway. Washing yourself at the sink of empty public restrooms. But finally ridding yourself of all of it, you could die happy in this moment.

Soon enough your entire body was clean, tail shampooed twice and conditioned, just leaving your hair and ears. Looking to the door, you nearly hesitated to call him back in. After folding your knees up to your chest, you finally did, “Jin?” thinking you weren’t loud enough, you almost called out again when the door opened, he peeked his head inside.

“Ready to wash your hair?” you nodded in answer. He smiled, walking into the room and shutting the door behind him. After retrieving a cup from the cabinet, he sat on the edge of the tub. “Just tilt your head back and close your eyes. Don’t worry, I’m a pro at washing hybrid ears. Once Jimin hurt his hand, and he stretched the fake injury out for a whole month just so I would wash his hair for him.” You giggled as he poured water over your hair.

Silence filled the room as he lathered the shampoo through your locks. Like you’d done to your tail, he did this twice before adding conditioner. “You already look a lot better, getting some color back to your cheeks.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever eaten so much in one day before.” You mumbled as you relaxed at his gentle touch. Jin looked at your sadly, wanting so much to know everything that had happened to you, only because he wanted so badly to help you. He kept himself from asking, afraid it would scare you away after you’d started opening up. He was sure you would tell them when you felt confident, when they completely earned your trust.

“All clean little one,” he said but kept running his fingers through your now silky hair. “Dry off and come down when your ready. Jungkook always gets really excited to watch Iron Man movies.” Jin leaned to press a kiss to your forehead before pulling himself from the bathtub, smiling at you as he moved out of the room. You returned his smile as he shut the door, stretching your body out once more in the water before finally standing and wrapping the towel around yourself.

After dressing in the clothes Jimin had left you, black track bottoms and a dark green flannel shirt, you bundled up your folded dirty clothes in your arms and left the bathroom. “All done y/n?” Yoongi asked as he met you in the hallway. “I’ll put those in the wash, go on downstairs.” He took the clothes from you, before continuing down the hall, “I’ll be right behind you, don’t let them start the movie without me.” You watched him disappear into another room further down before making your way downstairs they way you remembered.

Upon entering the living room you found almost everyone gathered on the couch or on blankets on the floor. Unsure where to sit you stood nervously at the edge. Only a few seconds later Yoongi was beside you, hairbrush in hand. “Come sit down, I’ll brush your hair out for you.” He took your hand, leading you into the living room and sitting on the couch, ushering you to the floor in front of him. You leaned back against his legs before he starts running the brush through your locks, starting at the ends to smooth out any tangles. You relaxed more as the bristles moved over your scalp.

“Looks like someone’s enjoying themselves.” The voice suddenly next to you chuckled. You felt another warmth to your other side and looked to see Jimin and Taehyung on your sides. Everyone was in their spots, ready for the movie to start that Jungkook was currently putting on. Namjoon sat next to Yoongi, Jin laid on the other couch, leaned back against the arm with Hobi’s back against his chest. Everyone looked so relaxed sitting together, it made you want the same thing.

“Ready to watch the greatest superhero of all time?” Jungkook asked, looking back at you, the smile falling from him when he saw the spaces next to you already taken. “No fair, there’s no room around y/n.” he whined. You looked back at how Jin and Hobi where laying and crossed your legs, leaning back against the couch. His smile returned, beaming when you pat your lap shyly. Before someone else could take the offer, he rushed over, sitting down and leaning back against you, head resting of your chest. “I have the best seat in the house now.” He boasted, bringing your hands to his chest and holding them there. The elders laughed at the youngest males giddy state, hearts warming at the sight of you so readily offering to cuddle with the needy pup.

“Everyone ready to start the movie?” a sound of agreement went through the room, Tae and Jimin settling against you. Minutes into the movie you were sucked into it, barely noticing Yoongi’s fingers moving again through your hair, or Jungkook’s thumbs caressing circles against your pulse points as he explained every scene. Usually the others would have shut him up, but you seemed excited to hear everything, quickly asking him to clarify anything you didn’t understand. It seemed you and Jungkook were the only ones watching the screen, as everyone was watching you two interact. Halfway through Taehyung went into the kitchen, coming back minutes later with bowls of popcorn, handing them out. Sitting down with his own he offered it to you, but you couldn’t remove your hands from Jungkook’s grasp. Smiling to himself, trying to not to laugh at how conflicted you looked, he fed you himself.

As the credits were finally rolling Jin looked over to see you both asleep, your low purring lulling Jungkook into a coma while your head rested on his. “We should move them to bed, they’ll wake sore if they stay like that.” Hobi said, raising from the couch while the others started to clean up. Leaning down in front of Jungkook, he lightly tapped his nose. “Kookie, time to head to bed.”

“Comfy here hyung…” he mumbled back.

“I know, but you’ll hurt y/n’s legs if you sleep here all night. Come on, you can play more in the morning.” He took the pups hands, prying them from your own and pulled him to sit up, waking you in the process. Namjoon pulled him to his feet, leading him to the staircase. Rubbing your eyes while you yawned, Hobi pet your twitching ears.

“Did I miss the ending?”

“We can watch it again tomorrow, it’s been a long day, lets get some sleep.” You let him lift you from the ground, carrying you through the room and up the stairs. Your ears twitching tickled his chin, making him smile. Stepping into a small bedroom, he gently set you down in the bed, letting you get comfortable before pulling the covers over your curled up state. “Tae and Jimin are right across the hall and I’m next door if you need anything, okay?” he giggled and your lazy nod. “Good night y/n.” he left a kiss at your temple before standing to leave, hearing you just before he shut the door.

“G’night Hobi.”

He smiled as he wondered back into the living room where Jin and Namjoon were waiting. “Did you find anything out about her yet?” the wolf asked.

“A bit, I have a friend doing some digging, I should know more tomorrow when I go to the shelter.”

“So what do you we know.”

“Some good news,” he answered hesitantly. “There’s no feline hybrid in the system matching her breed and name.”

“What does that mean?” Jin asked.

“It means it’s likely her owner never had a hybrid license, which isn’t that surprising since her breed is so rare. If he didn’t have the paperwork to have her it might not be hard to keep him from taking her back.”

“But.” Jin knew there was always a catch with rich hybrid owners.

“But, after five years in one place he could try to claim legal ownership.”

“She said she was with him for five years.”

“I know,” he sighed, hand running through his hair. “It’ll be a close call. I already have the emergency rescue forms being processed. I’ll call our usual lawyer in the morning and see what she can do. Maybe if we act fast enough we can get into the system before her owner catches word of it.”

“So y/n can stay here?” they all looked back to Taehyung and Jimin at the doorway, looking to their elders hopefully.

“I can’t promise anything, but we’ll try everything we can.” They knew it wouldn’t be an easy task to undertake. “Now come on everyone, its late. Tomorrow might get a bit crazy, so lets get some sleep.” He ushered them all back up the stairs and into their rooms. Taking one last glace at your door before continuing down the hall.

Tomorrow they’d ask if you wanted to stay with them. And hope that your owner didn’t come looking for you.

tag list: @sessi03​ @i-jinlaugh-at-u-peasants @sami4life​

[rogue-barnes-16]

Yelena X normal reader , tiny timeline of meeting to now. How reader helped and made Yelena open up and fluff for their relationship?? 🥰😍

HER

Summary: Yelena goes over the happiest part of her life while talking with an old friend.

Pairing: Yelena Belova x fem Reader

Genre: fluff

Tags:

Yelena Belova: @justmebeingtheweirdmeiam @thetiniestfangirl

Permanent taglist: @notexactlythatgirl @thisismysecrethappyplace @sofreakinmanyfandoms @pizzarollpatrol @bubblycypress87 @1a-girl-has-no-name1 @loislp @lovenaturefirst @dyanna-corona @2ptonpt @goodnightmode @disneyprincessbuffyannesummers @mannls @cutie1365 @catch22inareddress @mybooradley @sebastianisasnack @butifulsoul125 @unlikelygalaxygiver @angelh1 @justmebeingtheweirdmeiam @randomparanoid @welovecaptainamericaass @gabbie-is-sad @amisutcliff

Warnings: maybe swearing and alcohol (?)

A/N: I'm sorry for the delay, I'll be writing your requests soon, just give me time plz. With the University, and the protects, and family, and now the coronavirus, my life has been a mess and the last thing I could do was write. Here goes some Yelena x reader fluff bc it's needed, enjoy <3

"I tell people my sister moved out west." I began, nursing the half empty vodka bottle with my eyes lost on the dark sky.

"You're a science teacher." Natalia's eyebrows raised in disbelief as a surprised smirk appeared on her lips. "You're husband... He renovates houses." I rested my chin on the bottle. "You're thinking about moving but you're waiting until the interest rates go down."

"That's not my story." Natalia laughed

"I don't care." I stated with an indifferent look and a shrug of my shoulders. "That's my sister's story."

"Is that what you told Y/n?"

Natalia casually pronouncing her name, as if she was supposed to know her at all, made me go completely livid.

"what? Cat got your tongue?" the redhead teased.

"How--?"

"She was going down when I was going up." Natalia chucked down what was left of alcohol in her bottle before leaning back. "I asked her if she knew you-- if you were home." I clenched my fists around the bottle's neck. "She's really sweet."

"I hate you."

"how did you meet her?"

"Másik." the bartender raised an eyebrow at me while she cleaned one of the cups. "Please?"

"Don't you think you've had enough tonight?"

I pretended to meditate it for a couple of seconds before replying "Not yet."

"How are you not drunk?" she questioned, leaving the glass, now cleaned over the top shelf and spinning to me with a new bottle of liquor ready to serve me another cup.

"I tolerate alcohol pretty well." I replied, just as I did the rest of the nights I dropped by at the pub to have a drink.

Or two.

I didn't like the pub, I didn't like the people there, and I didn't like riding my bike for half an hour to reach the place.

I liked the cute bartender that worked there Fridays Saturdays and Sundays, since she needed the money to afford her shitty apartment. And even though she hated working the weekend, she had no choice because college consumed the rest of the week, except Wednesday, but Wednesday was her day and she wasn't going to give it up for an extra check because self care was important.

Yeah, I liked her.

"If you go home after this one," she spoke leaving the bottle aside to lean on the bar counter. "the last one's on the house."

My eyes jumped from her to the glass, and back to her while I thought my words through. "come with me?"

Her eyes widened a little bit, a frown formed between her brows and a nervous chuckle left her lips. "wait what?"

"Come home with me?" I tried extra hard for my insecure side not to slip through my confident, almost cold façade. "I'm not drunk, I promise."

"I-" she stared at the clock long enough for me to catch up on her intention of leaving with me. "Uh... We close in like... Fifteen minutes."

"Is that a yes?"

"just if you wait." she teased with a half smile.

"I was a usual in the pub she worked in." I replied, leaning back on the chair whilst trying to keep it cool.

"What are you two?" Natalia questioned, now with no intention of teasing, but out of pure curiosity.

My eyes opened automatically the moment the weight on the bed shifted, and all from sudden I was wide awake, my eyes trained in Y/n's body as she dressed up.

"What are you doing?" I questioned while fighting the urge to walk to her, or even sit up.

"Getting dressed?"

"Why?"

She chuckled, buckling her belt. "I have class."

With a groan I propped myself up. "Don't go."

"Yelena." she stepped towards me in order to give me a peck on the lips to erase my pout. "You know I can't." I sighed, knowing perfectly fine that she was right. "Where's the shirt I left here the-"

"second drawer."

"Thanks babe."

"Take care, okay?" I spoke right before she exited the room, to which she responded with a nod.

"Why are you being so nosey?" my inquiry was excessively hostile; even I was able to notice it.

"Why are you being so overprotective?" Natalia's reply had a tinge of frustration on it.

"What the fuck was that?" Y/n's voice held fear and anger equally.

I could feel her eyes digging into me, even if my head was low and my eyes were closed. Even if she was pacing on the living room and I was sitting on a chair in the corner.

"I can't explain it to you." I attempted in vain to sound calm and confident.

"You dragged me out of the bar were I work and made me walk for an hour before taking me to your bike."

"you won't understand."

"you don't know that."

I looked up at her. "Believe me when I tell you--"

"does it have anything to do with all the guns you have hidden in every room?" her question, even though she practically lived with me now, took me aback. "or with the Red Room? Or with Natalia?"

I stood up immediately at the mention of the black widow, now scared of who Y/n was. "how-" had she fooled me? I thought. Had this been just another of Madame B's mind games?

"You talk in your sleep." she confessed, making my heart pound twice faster. "I know more about you than you think, Yelena. I didn't tell you because it's your choice to tell me about it."

I opened and closed my mouth like a fish out of the water, unable to say anything.

"I know you don't talk about your past for a reason, and I get it." Y/n, between her speech, had walked to me and her hands now were holding mine. "But if your past somehow becomes your present— our present," my heart skipped a beat at her correction. "I need you to tell me what's happening."

We gazed into each other's eyes for a long instant that, in my opinion, could have been a minute or an hour.

"I'm afraid something will happen to you if you know anything about it." I replied, looking down at our intertwined fingers. "I love you."

Her index lifted my chin and, before my eyes met hers, our lips did.

"I love you too."

"Why wouldn't I be, Natalia?" I inquired, throwing myself back against the backrest. "She knows a lot that she shouldn't. Plus, she's... the only good thing in my life."

"So how long y'all have been dating?"

"For almost two years already."

"So you love her, huh?" I looked down, feeling my cheeks reddening. "Oh my gosh you're in love." She chuckled.

"Shut up Romanova." I warned her in the deadliest tone.

"When's the wedding?" She mocked me, not ready for the answer that would come.

"Good morning baby."

One would say that hearing the same thing almost every morning for a year and a half would lose its magic, but Y/n's lips mumbling those three words against my shoulder as she spooned me made my heart jump every time.

I turned to lay on my back, so I could see her smile illuminated by the sunlight filtering through the white curtains.

"Y/n..." she beamed at her name leaving my lips. "I love you."

"I know." She chuckled, tracing a random pattern on my bare skin.

"Marry me."

A fit of laughter overcame her, but when she realized I didn't do the same, she fell serious. "Wait are you--"

"Maybe." I replied, paving my way out of the situation just in case I had made the biggest mistake ever.

"Maybe?" I nodded, trying to keep calm. "Maybe." I shut my eyes, realizing the teasing had started. "Maybe you're proposing but, y'know, just maybe."

"Stoooop." I covered my face with both my hands, which were soon removed by hers.

"If my answer is 'yes', would it still be maybe?"

"Maybe." I joked, happiness flooding every part of my being.

"Dumbass." She laughed, lying back down to cuddle me.

"Was going to be this winter." Natalia's eyes went wide and I looked down with a shrug. "Well have to move it since my life is now a mess." I spared her a brief glance in hopes to receive her approval.

How pathetic.

Though I was met with a genuine smile of hers. "I'm happy for you, really." my lips curved up with my eyes fixed on my bottle. "am I invited though?"

"Just if you don't get me killed."

She closed her eyes, letting out a soft laugh. "don't worry about that."

[fresh-outta-jams]

Tale as Old as Time - Part 1

Namjoon x Reader Author: Admin Mo Summary: At the hands of an evil enchantress, Prince Namjoon has been struck with a beastly curse. Love is the only way to break the spell, but who could ever learn to love a beast? Note: Wow my brain really said “All you can think about now is Namjoon in Beauty and the Beast and you MUST WRITE IT NOW.” Warnings: None? Word Count: 1.7k

Prologue - 1

Prince Namjoon spent weeks in his wing of the castle, lamenting Rosaline's curse. He avoided the mirrors, spoons, and standing water. He couldn’t stand to look at himself or the others. Guilt ate at him. It was his fault Rosaline had come in the first place. It was his fault he’d doomed himself and his friends to a fate so grim with no hope of ever returning to normal. Not without dooming his kingdom, at least.

Jungkook brought Namjoon meals, as he was one of the few who didn’t have mobility issues due to his new...condition. Though the prince barely wanted to eat, it was important to him that his friend was taken care of, especially in his new form.

“How can you stand to look at me?” Namjoon had asked on one of the first nights of his self-inflicted exile. “I’m a monster.”

“You’re no monster, your highness. You’re my friend. This curse isn’t your fault. None of the others hold any anger against you.”

“They should. They should all hate me. It’s my-”

“It’s not your fault.” Jungkook repeated. “It could have been any of us. It’s not your fault the witch wanted you.”

Namjoon sighed. “I suppose not…”

“Will you please come see the others? They all miss you.”

“Why don’t they come here?”

“You see, it’s...not that simple.” Jungkook replied. “Many of the others...can’t walk, your highness.”

Namjoon was struck silent. He closed his eyes and bowed his head. It was even worse than he feared. “I’ll come see them. Lead the way.”

The first stop on the tour of the cursed castle was one of the bedrooms down the hall. Jungkook pushed open the doors and Namjoon followed him inside. It was a large bedroom, often used for guests. He knew, however, that Taehyung had been in the room, organizing the clothes in the wardrobe.

“Taehyung?” Namjoon asked. He stared at the wardrobe, waiting for it to respond to him somehow, but instead, it was the full length mirror beside it that came to life, Taehyung’s form trapped within the glass, as though it was a painting of his friend.

“Namjoon! You finally came.” Taehyung’s face lit up, but once he finally got a good look at their prince, his eyes widened. “She...what did she do to you?”

“It’s not worse than what she did to you.” Namjoon’s eyes watered, his voice so very deep and growly. “I’m so sorry, Taehyung.”

“It’s not your fault.” Taehyung shook his head. “I’m fine. I’m alive, aren’t I?”

“You’re trapped in a mirror.”

“It’ll be okay.” Taehyung wasn’t sure if his words were true, but he also didn’t know how to make the prince feel better. He put his hand against the glass, pressing against the invisible boundary trapping him inside. Namjoon raised his giant paw and matched it to Taehyung’s hand.

“I’m going to get you out of there.” Namjoon decided. Although, he wasn’t quite sure how he’d be able to accomplish that.

Next, Jungkook led Namjoon down to the smaller ballroom, the one that had been vacant during the party. He heard piano music coming from the small room, but once they got inside it, he noticed there was no one sitting at the piano bench. No one was in the room. Or so he though. He remembered that Yoongi had been absent from the party because he’d been practicing.

Suddenly, the music stopped. The keys stopped pressing themselves and the piano tilted slightly towards them.

“Your highness…” Yoongi’s voice emitted from the top of the grand piano, the strings reverberating slightly as he said it.

“Yoongi.”

“How are you...holding up?”

“Not well.” Namjoon sighed. “How are you?”

“It’s not all bad. I always did want more time to practice.” Yoongi chuckled darkly. “I was practicing in here during the party, and the next thing I knew…”

“That must have been terrifying.”

“It was at first. It...still is, sometimes when I wake up.”

Jungkook led Namjoon onwards to the kitchen, where he half expected to find the castle’s cook, Jin, making something. And he was, technically. Except there was a pot on the stove of the oven, which was stirring itself.

“Namjoon?” The oven asked.

“Jin?” Namjoon asked in return.

“It’s me.” The oven replied. “Just making dinner, your highness. It’ll be done soon.”

“I’m in no hurry.” Namjoon shook his head. Each room he walked into, he just felt worse. He’d seen four of the six staff members, all that were left were Hoseok and Jimin.

Jungkook led Namjoon out of the kitchen and into the den, where there was a candelabra and a teacup sitting on the table. At the sight of him, the candelabra lit up, hopping closer to the edge.

“You’re here! You’ve finally come out of hiding!”

“Hoseok?”

“In the flesh! Er, wax…”

And so the teacup must have been Jimin, Namjoon deduced. He sat on the couch, facing them, and picked up the cup gently. There was indeed a face painted into the cup’s surface where there hadn’t been one previously. When the golden painted eyes opened, the cup screamed, quieting down quickly.

“Jimin?”

“You scared me, your highness, I’m so sorry.” Jimin replied. A pink blush spreaded across his painted cheeks. “I didn’t mean to scream. I’m...I’m not scared of you.”

“It’s okay if you are.” Namjoon said, sullen. “I’m aware my new form is quite...frightening.”

“It doesn’t matter what you look like, you’re still the same Namjoon I grew up with.” Hoseok said, resting one of his candle-bearing hands carefully on Namjoon’s. “We know you’re not a monster.”

“I doubt anyone outside the castle would think that, though.” Namjoon sighed and carefully set Jimin back on the table. “None of you deserve this fate. Maybe I should just-”

“Go to Rosaline? Don’t.” Jungkook shook his head. “If she did this to us, what do you think she’d do if she was in charge of the kingdom? Besides, you don’t love her.”

“I don’t.” Namjoon agreed. He stared at his giant fur-covered paws, still in disbelief that they belonged to him. “But like this, I doubt anyone will love me either.”

***

Five Years Later

***

From birth, you had always been a little...different. And if there was anything your village hated, it was different.

“Witch.” An old man muttered under his breath as you passed.

You only sighed and pulled your cape further around yourself. You were used to the treatment, but that didn’t make it any easier to deal with. Your boots crunched the autumn leaves beneath your feet as you walked to the baker’s cart to pick up some bread for the week.

“The usual, (Y/N)?” The baker asked, a genuine smile on his wrinkled face.

“Yes, please.” You nodded.

He picked up the parcel he had waiting on the counter and handed it to you. You set the large paper bag in your basket. You handed a small bag of coins to the baker and he smiled. “I’ll see you next week, then.”

“Of course!” You walked out the door and wandered further through the market. You bought some jam from one merchant, some thread for another, and you stopped, staring at the most gorgeous yellow fabric you’d ever seen. What a beautiful gown that’d make. Unfortunately, you knew you definitely wouldn’t be able to afford it. After all, your craft as a seamstress only made so much money. Barely enough to keep you fed, let alone any other expenses. No, a yellow gown would have to wait.

So, on you walked through the village until you finally arrived at your little house. Since your parents had passed a few years before, you had the place to yourself. It wasn’t much, but it was enough. You walked inside and set your basket on the table before walking back out to tend to the three chickens you kept. You collected their eggs and then walked back into the house.

For a moment, you just sat in silence, enjoying the moment of peace before getting back to work on your latest piece, a long blue gown. You took orders from neighboring villages as well as your own, creating unique dresses for the women in town. Every once in a while, you’d receive a generous tip for your labor, but most of the time, you only made enough to afford your food for the week.

You sewed seam after seam, dressing your bodice slowly until finally, you had a finished dress. You’d have to deliver it to your customer in the next few days to collect your money.

You exhaled a long sigh, leaning back and finally letting your muscles rest. You’d need to save energy for tonight. There was going to be a meteor shower, and you were determined to stay up and watch it until its completion. Much to the village’s dismay, you took after your mother. You’d inherited her gift, just a touch of magic that seemed to be more powerful under the stars.

However, due to powerful enchantresses like Rosaline, who tortured the people of the outskirts of the kingdom and bent them to her will, magic users were feared, sometimes even persecuted. You were lucky the people of your village hadn’t burned you at the stake. Honestly, you wouldn’t be surprised if they tried at some point.

It was still nice out and the sun was beginning to set, so you walked outside your house to take a little stroll in the twilight. It was then that you spotted the baker, on his way home from work.

“Hello again, (Y/N). What are you doing out so late?”

“I’m headed to the field outside of town to watch the stars.”

“A beautiful night for that.” He nodded, thinking for a long moment before he added. “I heard beyond the forest, there’s an abandoned castle. Rumor has it, there’s an observatory in its tower.”

“You don’t say…” You murmured, looking out towards the woods. Perhaps you’d have to wander out there and find out for yourself. “Thank you for the tip.”

Tagged: @thetofuartist​

[the-hotter-otter]

Strangers || ATEEZ Fanfic

Seonghwa X OC

Mafia/Crime AU

3.7k words

Part 3 || chapter list || previous chapter || next chapter

Hyejin can’t fully commit to Seonghwa’s tempting offer, meanwhile Hongjoong continues to keep secretes.

Warning: blood, minor death, injury, violence, knife use

Angst, fluff, smut, cussing, violence, death

note: ayo shit will start moving soon I promiseee, I seriously don’t know where this story is gonna go but fuck it we’ll see. 

No pov

Hongjoong wasn’t at all surprised when Seonghwa came into his office late at night. He could tell there was a lie in between the lines Seonghwa spoke when he confronted the two last week. Being best friends for years with a bit of blood, death and guns on the side really did bring people together. 

“What’s her name?” Hongjoong asked, he couldn’t stay mad at Seonghwa. Hongjoong knew punishment wasn’t necessary on the eldest who was already racking his brain on it, as a leader he could tell when further discipline was needed and when it was best to leave it to their own self conscience. “If she’s staying here, I should at least know.”

“Lee Hyejin,” Seonghwa said, cursing the weird feeling of familiarity he felt after saying her name. 

“Lee hyejin?” Hongjoong quirked an eyebrow, he’s definitely heard of the name from somewhere, he just couldn’t pinpoint where. “Sounds familiar.”

Seonghwa merely nodded, somewhat glad that Hongjoong didn’t directly question him. “I’ll take responsibility for her.”

Hongjoong liked the sound of that, though it didn't change the fact that he was overlooking one more person. “That means a lot of things hwa, keeping her in line, taking care of her, watching her and protecting her if shit goes down.”

“She isn’t 5.” Seonghwa sighed, “I’m not spoon feeding her.” 

“But she knows.” Hongjoong reminded him, “and she knows she has you wrapped around her finger, people take advantage of that.” 

“I can always shoot her.” Seonghwa said as if it were so simple.

Hongjoong looked him up and down, silently judging the older one. Hongjoong sighed, he wasn’t exactly up for this kind of conversation at 2:30am, “Dramatic much... Aish don't waste the bullets, the suppliers have been shitty to us lately.”

“What I’m saying is you won't have to worry,” Seonghwa said, “you’ll barely notice her.”

Hongjoong looked Seonghwa up and down, “you want her to stay that badly?” 

Seonghwa was taken back by the other’s awkward perspective, “yes? There really isn’t any ulterior motive.”

Hongjoong gave a dawdled nod as he chuckled, “I’m playing with you hwa. Bring her in, I’ll let the others know of our latest addition.”

Seonghwa was about to step out of the office when Hongjoong suddenly spoke up again, “don’t forget about that task I gave you.”

Seonghwa gave a sharp nod, “I'll see to it by the end of the day.”

“Dont fuck up!” Hongjoong noted loud enough for the other to hear, he could imagine the rise he got from it. Deep down he was just joking, after all, Seonghwa never fucks up. 

Hongjoong enjoyed the tease he gave his best friend, more often than not, the former was in tight situations with serious consequences, loosening up was often the last thing he’d find himself doing. 

His smile was short lived when he suddenly felt the vibrations of his phone, and it wasn’t from the bold red one that was sprawled on the desk with the many papers. His face dropped drastically upon realizing that someone was calling the phone hidden deep in his pockets. There was only one person who’d be ringing. 

Mazaki Meiyo.

“Yes?” Hongjoong cautiously spoke up, his eyes darting around the office. He got up and opened the door to check if anyone was giving his conversation a listen. 

“They moved the deal.”

Hongjoong pinched the bridge of his nose, “when?”

“In an hour. You know just as well as me that this isn’t going to end smoothly.”

“Your deals rarely end well.” Hongjoong scoffed bitterly, he pulled the phone away from his ear when the other line went dead. He had to go now if he were to make it in time, he couldn’t afford to be late, not for these kinds of deals. 

Hongjoong pushed off his seat and swiftly buckled his hidden artillery onto his thigh and around his torso, making sure that his best weaponry was in close reach, ready for whatever conflict he was about to get into. Pulling the hood over his masked face, he checked the location Meiyo had sent him. 

The leader eyed the pile of paperwork that was due in a matter of days, he dreaded the inevitable all-nighters we’ll have to pull because of it. 

As Hongjoong left the household in silence, he turned his main phone off completely and stowed it in a hidden compartment. No one was going to find him tonight.

-

Hyejin pov

I stared at the phone screen in dismay, the loan shark has been after my ass for the debt I’ve yet to pay. I've been trying, but even after much struggle I only possess half of what I owe. 

I hated to take that offer from Seonghwa, the money from that deal would have covered my debt and rent from my residence long enough for me to make something out of a scrubby part time job, he just had to ruin me once more.

Then again, what other choice do I have? I leaned back on the wall of the alleyway, I don’t know anyone in this world. I was forgotten years ago, Seonghwa is the last person I’d go with, but he’s also the only one. 

My eyes drifted to the tall buildings around, they blocked the sunlight from ever entering these shabby alleys with large bins and locked deserted gates and doors. I met with the gazes that had been watching me for a while now, in a building a few blocks away yet still in perfect view, two middle aged men who most likely reeked of cigarettes and alcohol admired me from their apartment which could easily come off as an abandoned building left to collect dust and grime.

I squinted my eyes as I felt my vision start to give into fatigue, unrealistic hues of blue and neons started bouncing around. Every now and then, the migraine in my head would dust my eyes with a cloud of grey that blurred my sight ever so slightly. I sighed as I began seeing four instead of two weird men. I tried to refrain from focusing on anything, the lack of good sleep and food had me feeling all sorts of murky effects. 

Their stalkerish behaviour had been creeping me out for the past few days, despite it, I never saw a proper reason to leave the little spot I've claimed for rest. Plus, the odd duo hadn’t made any advances that had worried me thus far. 

The day continued, and the city had been busy as usual. Bikes raced down the side of the roads and paths, scaring the uptight mothers into a slur of curses. Teenage girls carelessly skipped around in their tiny croptops, powdery make up and flaunty shoes with boys their parents have no idea existed. Cars drove with their temperamental owners honking and anything and everything, then there were the workers who were either strolling around after their shifts or sprinting in swerves around people in effort to not be late.

Yet here I was sitting in a slump not so far from the hoards of people, absorbing the natural noises of the city that started to sound more like blaring megaphones instead of white noise. 9pm had crept faster than I expected, truthfully I wasn’t sure whether or not to go through with Seonghwa’s offer. I still had a chance to reconsider, perhaps I could deal with the information for money? After all, a controversial topic surrounding Seonghwa would no doubt bring in a big sum. 

I shook my head from the ludicrous thoughts, there was no guarantee in shady business, ever. It's a far-fetched plan, and the fact that I didn't have a name to my face meant I was that less convincing. 

Though I knew this offer would mean gambling my safety and if I were to stretch the possibilities, my own life. I still wasn’t 100% on board with the whole moving in with Seonghwa and whatever team he’s apart off, neither could I fathom the thought of that sinful man working with people, and that’s without mentioning his sudden change in attitude towards his victims.

It was yet another reason why I’m so reluctant to associate with him, because this isn’t the Seonghwa I was familiar with, he was a stranger, and no one is at ease when they’re affiliated with someone they don't know, especially when that person had guns, knives and all sorts of deadly possessions in their grasp. 

I groaned as I got up with a hazy mind. I looked up and to my suprise the stretchy men were back to watch me, it started to feel uncomfortable now. “Nice knowing you too I guess…” I keep my voice to a murmur. Soon I found myself heading to the meeting spot. 

My heart feels enraged with regret, and it’s impossible to ignore. There was a mere few minutes till the clock struck 9, I can get out of here now or never. 

The Central Train Station was quite grand. With multiple steps just to get to the entrance, neatly trimmed gardens surrounding the place and ancient pillars that held up the building. It was one of the older buildings that turned into a modern utility. 

“Fuck...” I muttered under my breath, “no, fuck this.”

Before I could think I was already speed walking to get the hell out of here. I had pride, I could at least preserve that after losing everything else. 

-

No pov

Blood coated the blade and splattered across the floor and walls of the office, the books on the shelf were drenched and soaking up every bit of red fluid. If only the man had just followed through with the deal, he wouldn’t have ended up dead. 

“What a hassle.” Seonghwa sighed, as he wiped his blade clean on his way out, though it was satisfying seeing the horrors painted on his face as Seonghwa taunted him, revenge for the knife he flung at Hongjoong during their last deal not long ago. 

Seonghwa analysed the slash along his shoulder area, it wasn’t serious at all but it sure did look ugly and soaked his dress shirt in a dark red, in the midst of the tension it felt numb but as his heart rate came down he could slowly feel the stinging pain emitting from the open flesh. He let out a relieved sigh after knowing that none of his own blood had ended up dripping anywhere. 

If it weren’t for the man’s sleeping family in the other room, Seonghwa could have easily finished it off with a bullet but he had to move silently. In turn, it cost him when the man felt fit to fight back with his own blade.

Seonghwa felt Hyejin was partly accountable for his injury. 20 minutes was a bit of a rush for a mission like this, but he had no choice if he was going to make it to the station in time. There was a chance that Hyejin wouldn’t even show up, and that chance made seonghwa unsteady and tense. 

As he pulled up to a red light he felt a distant memory unfold, one that brought a sense of discomfort.

Laughter bubbled up in the front of the car, toothy smiles that twinkled despite the gloomy rain outside. The lull of the music had been turned down for a while now as the soft chatter continued. 

“Hyejin, I told you I don’t need anything for my birthday.” Seonghwa insisted once more with a light chuckle, his one hand on the wheel while the other tried to hold her hand back. He watched in helplessness as she clipped the dangling toothless charm around the rear mirror of the car, her little laugh escaping her lips as it dangled between them.

“It’s cute! I’m telling you, you look just like him.” Hyejin insisted, “and that’s not even the best part.”

Seonghwa couldn't help but smile when the toothless unclipped in half to reveal a small photo framed inside, the details were minuscule but clearly contained the two of them on one of their more memorable dates. 

“Ya, this looks expensive, how much did you spend on me.” Seonghwa diverted the conversation as he observed the matte black of the green eyed dragon. 

“It wasn’t much, don't worry hwa.” Hyejin patted his hand, “I’ve got something else, it's more personal since I made it myself.” 

“So you have something else now?” Seonghwa sighed, though his stupid grin betrayed the annoyed look he tried to show.

The red light cascaded from red to orange to green and before hyejin could whip out the other half of her gift seonghwa sped off, “fine! I’ll accept your gifts, love.”

Seonghwa sneered at the Toothless charm he had yet to take off, if anything it became part of his car’s identity, making it slightly easier to navigate the garage of small black cars, specially on the days when all the vehicles would be together. 

Seonghwa had pulled to a slow stop in front of the station, hiding the charm was his first and foremost priority, Hyejin would most definitely recognize it. 

As he was about to yank the chain off, the corner of his eyes caught a sudden shadow appearing at the window.

Completely forgetting about the charm, Seonghwa halted in his seat, his hand already clasped around the gun latched onto him. It wasn’t until a hesitant Hyejin peered through the window did he relax his grip. On the other hand, Hyejin was feeling anything but relaxed, especially after seeing the bloodbath of a man in the driver's seat.

“So you’ll take my offer?” Seonghwa asked as if it wasn't already obvious enough, Hyejin scoffed. Her response was seen through the way she snuggled down into the passenger seat in a strained sigh of relief after being situated on the hard concrete for days on days.

Throughout the ride Hyejin had kept a careful observation of the roads they had been speeding across, if worse came to worse, she could make a run for it. 

Hyejin silently and subtly glanced around, the car itself hadn’t changed at all, not even the peppermint scent it gave off from the gum Seonghwa had been loyal to for most of his life, though it was currently heavily overpowered by the stench of blood. Hyejin didn’t want to know how and what got him that gruesome injury.

However, the most prominent and unusual feature that had still existed in the car was the all too familiar charm that dangled and swung around underneath the rearview mirror. The dragon's bright green eyes and toothy smile didn't go unnoticed, especially since Hyejin was the one who got it for him years ago. 

Hyejin had the decency to stay silent about it, the stiffness of the air was already far too overbearing, there was no need to intensify it’s sour atmosphere.

“It’s not just me who lives here.” Seonghwa brings up, 

“I figured.” Hyejin sighed, she had heard the many rumours over the years of how a certain group had been overturning the criminal world with unrivaled skill and accomplishments, they became big in the industry. This group of young, skilled men made a name for themselves and it became one feared by many, ATEEZ. 

Though it wasn’t just their skill that had made them the talk of many circles, it was the people within the group, the majority of which already had a reputation high on their shoulders. Hyejin had heard of the promising sniper who had joined their ranks, the insanely witty dealer who knew how to smooth talk his way to riches, the stealthy man who snuck into and claimed dangerous possessions without a single sound. 

Then there was the hitman who possessed the skill of 100 men, he was a young and promising lone wolf who had been rumoured to have joined ATEEZ.

Hyejin didn’t want to believe it was Seonghwa, in fact she didn't want to hear about anything related to Seonghwa, but it wasn’t possible when she was involved with loan sharks and illegal exchanges for the money she was in dire need for. Of course, because of her interactions with others, Hyejin was aware of Seonghwa’s growing skill and relevant changes, it disgusted her to say the least, how much better he had gotten at taking lives.

However the failed deal from last week confirmed her denial to be wrong, Seonghwa was well and truly closely associated with a group, and that group was no doubt ATEEZ.

“Dont try anything stupid.” Seonghwa warned, Hyejin rolled her eyes slightly, “I’m serious, I see the way you're memorizing these roads.”

Hyejin froze momentarily, she eyed Seonghwa who had removed his eyes from the road after stopping at a red light. Hyejin had forgotten how sharp he actually was, the intellectual from highschool still existed within him.

Hyejin got the chance to really see how much Seonghwa had changed, even underneath all of that stained blood and light smears of dirt, she could easily tell that his facial features had sharpened immensely, he wasn’t the same soft faced charmer that made highschool hearts throbs on a daily. If anything, Seonghwa now resembled a high class heartbreaker with a body count worthy enough for a world record. 

Of course some things don't ever change, like his lush lip and stunning eyes that stared back at her. Before the awkwardness could settle, Hyejin looked away, subconsciously glancing at the toothless charm. Seonghwa noticed the glare she gave it, his hands went to take it off but was ultimately stopped by the swat Hyejin gave.

“What’s the point of taking it off now? You had years to do that.” Hyejin raised an eyebrow. 

Seonghwa did not respond and merely sighed as he began moving on the road once again. Hyejin was taken back when they suddenly verged off into a bush area, what was a simple scenery of grass turned into a splatter of greenery. Trees towered high, vines and dense bushes had taken over, it was an untouched forest and they were driving right through it.

Hyejins eyes squinted in growing concern, she wanted to believe they were just passing through to get to another town, but her panic only continued to rise as they got deeper into the maze of nature. Her eyes glare at Seonghwa who seemed to have already expected her to build up doubts.

“Jump out and you’ll be as good as dead.” Seonghwa warned, as he quickly glanced at her stray hand reluctantly reaching for the handle.

“Where are we going Seonghwa….” Hyejin glowered at the driver who was rather unfazed. Even when the subtle sound of a knife being drawn was heard, Seonghwa didn't look away from the road.

The driver pushed his head back against the seat as soon as he caught sight of the fast approaching knife. With the blade a finger's length away, Seonghwa sighed, “I’m not gonna hurt. We’re going to the house, so put the knife down and have a little faith.” 

“Who the hell lives in a goddam forest?!” Hyejin hissed in a raised voice, her eyes teared up from staring so intensely into his side profile. 

“Put the knife down or we’ll both die.” Seonghwa lowered his voice, and Hyejin did not comply. The male halted the car to connect his eyes to hers, in one swift and unnoticeable movement, he grasped her wrist tightly, causing the knife to be let loose and drop to the pit of the car. Hyejin suddenly let a sharp exhale out as Seonghwa pinned her hand down in between them. She cursed her hazy headaches for causing the drastic disadvantage against Seonghwa.

“Stop panicking, we’re almost there.” Seonghwa said as he began driving once again, Hyejin didn’t attempt to squirm out of his hold.

“Your a fucking joke,” Hyejin hissed, “I’ll never put faith in you, not after all the shit you’ve done to me.” 

Soenghwa pinched his lips together at the indirect upbringing of her family’s murder. He wasn’t about to smooth that mess out now, it’ll require a calmer Hyejin and a better situation to explain. 

Hyejin tried to compose herself, but she knew the only way to soothe her panic was to see proof of what Seonghwa was saying.

As they pulled into the driveway of Horizon, Hyejin's tense shoulders melted into the seat. Seonghwa scoffed as he got out of the car first. The jerking of his head signalled for her to get out, hyejin sneered at the man, “give me a damn second will you?”

Seonghwa rolled his eyes before heading inside momentarily, most likely to check if anyone was still up in the early stages of the night. Hyejin took the time alone to get a good grasp at what she had just gotten herself into.

A house, full of dangerous men, in the middle of a forest and a single long ass road back to civilization. 

This wasn’t ideal at all, and Hyejin started to regret this more than ever.

As she took in short breaths her eyes trailed back to the rear mirror charm. All of a sudden, curiosity had her fiddling with the Toothless till it unlatched. She furrowed her eyebrows at the sight of the blank frame. It wasn’t that she was disappointed, it was merely confusion.

“But you keep the charm…” Hyejin glared at the Toothless that was once a gift of love. In the back of her mind she wondered if her other gift was still intact.

Hyejin could worry about that later. Right now, she needed to stay sane and alive, she knew well enough that she would never be guaranteed a way out of death's grasps. Relish in the house and slowly pay off her existing debt? Yes. Get comfortable and trust that your back will be safe in a distant place full of criminals? Hell no.

[rambling-at-midnight]

Insomnia

Request: can you do a peter parker one where it’s him and tony’s daughter (she’s not an avenger) and just cute things like he catches her with his mask on or tony finds out they’re having sex and stuff

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

If anyone would like, I can create a Peter Parker x Reader Taglist. Tell me if you’d be interested in joining it! Or if you’d like to be added to my Forever Taglist. Or any Taglist, really!

Enjoy!

Being a Stark comes with a lot of perks. There’s the money, the influence, the brains, the technology... so basically everything.

Unfortunately, everything also includes insomnia.

It’s 3 a.m. and you’re still awake, though that may be because you’ve been on Instagram for the past four hours (yes, it’s a little pathetic, but guess what? Another thing you’ve gotten from your father is the mental issues so sometimes you need a little me time). But you would have put your phone down if you were starting to get tired. Besides, while some nights you’re able to fall asleep if you stay still enough for long enough, other nights you’re too restless to fall asleep quick enough and other times your brain simply refuses to turn off.

It’s easier to distract yourself with the memes.

Your boyfriend, Peter Parker, lets out a soft snore next to you and you freeze for a second. Thankfully he’s such a deep sleeper that your restlessness doesn’t usually bother him. Not that Tony would be happy to figure out how many nights you two spend together, but come on, you’re nineteen and can make your own decisions. It’s not like he behaved any better when he was your age.

You’d been surprised Peter was such a light sleeper considering his Peter-tingle, but as he reminds you over and over again (just like he reminds you not to call it the Peter-tingle but his spider sense) it only works for threats and apparently he’s decided you’re not a threat.

He really is gorgeous. You roll over and pillow your arm under your head, looking at him sleep with a small smile on your face. His floppy curls are definitely your favorite aspect of his appearance. But then again, his jawline is pretty great. And so are his cute brown eyes—when they’re open, of course. And even when they’re closed you can see how thick and long they are, resting on his cheeks.

There’s not really a way for you to pick a favorite feature of Peter’s. He’s just so perfect.

You reach out, fingers hovering over his cheekbones, before retracting your hand and huffing, rolling onto your back. Even though his Peter-tingle might not alert him to you being awake, touching him might still wake him and he hasn’t been sleeping like he should recently. He’s got so much college work and that on top of his patrols exhausts him. Whenever he’s in his bed he’s so tired he falls asleep instantly. It’s a quality you both admire and resent a little bit.

Before college, during the summer, Peter would stay awake until you were asleep on the nights you slept at a normal time. When you sleep you don’t move around and he can spoon you. Unfortunately, if you’re still trying to sleep you move around quite a bit, trying to find the perfect position, and it’s uncomfortable for him to be holding you as you toss and turn every few minutes. So, for the past few—you frown. How long has it been? Days? Weeks? Months? You haven’t been able to hold him and Peter hasn’t been able to hold you, at least while sleeping.

Muttering curses under your breath, you sit up and ease off the bed, watching Peter anxiously for the faintest sign that he’s woken. You don’t want to be the reason Spider-man can’t go on patrol because he’s too tired. You don’t want to be the reason Peter sleeps instead of going to his nine a.m. class. Most of all, you don’t want to be the reason Peter Parker gives up on his life because he’s too tired.

Your right ankle cracks when you take the first step and you wince, craning your neck to see if Peter’s awake. He doesn’t appear to be and you tiptoe out of the room with relief, completely unaware that Peter has been awake since your first sigh of annoyance.

He sits up, rubbing his eyes, when the door closes, and stares after you, a sleepy pout puckering his lips.

You know where everything is in the compound. You live here, after all. Therefore, lights are unnecessary as you pace down hallway after hallway, too far inside the building for windows to let in moonlight to assist in your endeavor. Nevertheless, you find yourself in front of the workshop in the end.

You’re not an Avenger. Much as you’d like to be one, you weren’t specially trained and you don’t have superpowers. You’ve never had the right temperament for it, anyway; quick flashes of temper would more often than not land you in more trouble than you’d like and your inexperience could render you useless when it comes to more complicated, sometimes inhumane, situations. Not that you’re useless in a fight; you can hold your own, ever since Nat took you away for that week-long ‘girl’s retreat’. Tony hadn’t liked it, but it was necessary.

He still thinks of you as his child and you haven’t been a child for a very long time, unfortunately.

Speaking of Tony; he, too, is in the workshop, sipping a cup of coffee. His hair is a mess. The brightness inside makes you squint. “Hey, Y/N,” he greets. “What, are you turning in? What time is it, 10?” He checks his watch without waiting for your response and tilts his head when he sees that it is exactly 3:12 in the morning. “I guess I got a little caught up in my work, huh?” He brandishes the wrench in his hand and sets it on the table. “What about you? Spiderling keeping you awake?” He winks.

You grimace. “Gross, Dad. You’re not supposed to talk about that stuff with me.”

Tony nods. “Yeah, I felt ridiculous just saying it. But I’ve gotta keep up with the times, you know? I’m still a cool kid.” He huffs a small laugh again. “Besides, I’d rather it’s Spiderling than anyone else, really.”

“No, I just... couldn’t sleep.” You raise one shoulder, voice light. “But you should get to bed. You have work in the morning. I can sleep in.”

“You really should try to stay on a better schedule,” your dad reminds you. The brief moment of conventional parenting doesn’t surprise you, but it is uncommon. Your dad always was the cool parent. Not that you had an uncool parent, after all; it was always just you and Tony.

Until Pepper. You like Pepper. She’s nice but strict—probably the epitome of the ‘uncool’ parent. But you’re already enough of an adult that she doesn’t mess with your life too much.

“I know,” you say heavily, kissing his temple and shutting down his project behind his back. “I’ll try, Dad. Good night.”

“Good night, honey.” Tony stands up and exits the workshop, leaving you alone in the quiet, too bright room.

You sigh again. Maybe you’re nocturnal and that’s why you never can fall asleep at the right time. “Hey, FRIDAY?”

“Yes, Ms. Stark?”

“Could you pull up designs for Spider-man’s next upgrade?”

“Certainly.”

The computer in front of you lights up and a 3D rendering of Peter’s next suit rotates once. You’re not an Avenger, but you can make their suits. It’s easy enough. It’s nice to be able to help out, anyway. And you’re never going to let Peter live down that he accidentally called his dick the ‘ol’ webshooter’ when, flustered, he told you it was a little tight in the crotch area.

Absently, you pick up one of the many masks Peter has gone through. It’s lying on the table next to the computer, the eyes shattered from a collision with a street sign. Without even thinking, you slip it over your own head. The material melds to the bone structure of your face, so comfortable you don’t notice but if it was made of anything else you’d feel suffocated.

“Why are you still awake?”

You jump and turn. Peter stands in front of you shirtless, his sweatpants hanging low on his hips, curls tousled and—stop, you mentally berate yourself. You can’t afford to get too excited right now because you know Peter won’t refuse you and he has class tomorrow.

Peter’s lips twitch when you pull the mask off your head hastily. “Why are you awake?” you accuse. “You have class tomorrow morning. Go back to sleep. I’ll be there in a few.”

Peter’s hands slip around your waist. You aren’t taken completely unawares; he’s headstrong and sometimes telling him to do something can make him want to do it even less. “The bed’s too cold without you.”

You sigh. “Oh, did I wake you up? I’m sorry. If you want, we can start to sleep in separate rooms again—”

“What? No!”

“—just on the nights you have stuff to do in the morning, because God knows I’ll keep you awake most nights anyway—”

“I have stuff to do every day, and—wait, most nights?”

“I’ve just been busy recently, Pete,” you mutter, relaxing into his hold and resting the side of your face against his warm, solid chest. “Can’t always turn the Stark brain off.”

Peter huffs a little bit. “Between you and Mr. Stark I’ve definitely got my hands full, huh?”

“Maybe when I become president I’ll convert the U.S. so that we’re nocturnal,” you suggest, giggling a bit. Peter plants a kiss on the top of your head.

“I’m sure you will. Now, come on,” he wheedles, “let’s go to bed.”

“Just a few more minutes—” you try, pushing away from his embrace, but unfortunately your boyfriend is a superhuman and doesn’t even budge. Instead, he keeps you caged in his arms and walks backwards, letting your legs drag behind your body.

“No,” Peter says firmly. He drags you all the way out of the room, turns off the light, and shuts the door before finally letting you go. “Now are you going to walk with me or do I have to carry you?”

You roll your eyes. “You’re insufferable.”

He grins down at you. “You love me, though.”

“Do I?” you tease. Peter’s lips press against yours, a gentle peck, and he pulls back and rubs his left eye.

“You need sleep,” he reminds you. “So do I. Come on.” And then he starts down the hallway, pulling you along. And maybe you yawn. Either way, he ends up as the big spoon and you don’t even toss and turn all that much.

Forever Taglist:

@lemirabitur @annymcervantes @queenmissfit @quiet-because-it-is-a-secret @iksey