#i’ve always wanted to draw him with wings since middle school i think

[sot-358]

αиgєℓѕ ιи fℓιgнт⤴️

[nuagederose]

As the Seasons Grey | Chapter Twenty: Sparkle + Fade

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Once she had it unlocked, Christine had opened and closed the door with her hip, and all the while she never dropped the books or let the quivering feeling in her arms overcome her for any reason whatsoever. She finally did set them down on the table in the middle of the kitchen floor, to which she let out a low whistle and ran her fingers through her hair. At that point, it was nearly five o’clock in the evening, and the sun had gone down behind the rest of the New York skyline outside of the apartment.

There were some things that she needed to study for, and some things that she needed to merely play out for themselves. She needed to relax for a bit, at least tithe herself over given she had just gotten home from school on top of everything else. However, she left her coat on as she knew that there had to be something else, something more to this evening, and something that warranted another walk out of the building, especially since she didn’t really have a lot to eat on hand there at her apartment.

Christine hovered over the books on her table to which she rested a hand on the cover of the one closest to her, the Dylan Thomas poetry book.

And then she remembered just exactly what she wanted to do right then and that was go and pay Eric a visit. She adjusted the lapels on her green jacket, and then she traded her book bag for her purse, and her Chuck Taylors for her slender black boots with the slight heel underneath. Once she had locked the door, she turned her attention to the solid door across the hallway from her. It was strange hearing that wing of the hallway in utter silence, and it was even more strange to think that her father was in the hospital as well.

She hoped that Wendy would return to her as she doubled back down the hallway to the staircase.

The clouds hung low over the tops of the buildings in her cozy nook of Queens as she strode up the sidewalk to Eric’s apartment building. She rang the button for the buzzer.

“Yeah?” he replied.

“It’s Christine,” she called through the speaker.

“Oh, hey! I’ve been wondering about you. Come on up—”

He pressed the button to unlock the front door for her, and she made her way inside of that cozy front lobby. She remembered his apartment, and she rested a hand on the door panel and gently pushed it open. Eric strode on past the door wrapped in soft-looking black clothes and a glass of water in hand.

“There you are!” she exclaimed, and she threw her arms around Eric’s thick body.

“Yeah, I’m here,” he replied in a muffled voice. She held back and looked on into his round pale slightly disoriented face and those big brown eyes.

“Was there a reason why you weren’t at school today?” she asked him.

“I had to catch up on studying,” he explained with a shrug, and then he moved back and stroked her arm with those long but chubby fingers. “Is it still raining outside?”

“Nah, but there’s lots more coming,” she suggested, and she rested her purse on the back of his tiny couch. Indeed, she noticed the textbooks and the small binder of notes there on the cushion before her. “I was just over at Alex’s place again. He gave me a bunch of books—a couple of art ones and some literature, too. I’m thinking about taking drawing next term.”

“Ooh, that’d be fun!” he chirped. “I should take that with you. My counselor says I can take more art stuff for the winter.”

“By the way, did you finish at all?” she asked him.

“As a matter of fact, I did,” he declared as he rubbed his hands together. “I had my worries, but I managed it, though.”

“Excellent! That’s always a good feeling. It’s like a dead weight off your shoulders or getting an early birthday present.”

He then snapped his fingers.

“I have something for you, by the way,” he told her.

Christine stayed put there at the back of the couch as he doubled back to his bedroom off to her right. It only took a minute, but he returned with something smooth, silver, and rounded on both ends as well as a pale white circle the size of a ping-pong ball.

“Merry early Christmas,” he declared as he handed them to her.

“A pen and a sand dollar?”

“Not just any old pen. It’s one of those pens that the astronauts and the sailors use. You can write it on any surface. And I’ve had that sand dollar for a while now. It was just finding the right person to give it to.”

“Aw, that’s so sweet,” she said, and she put her arms around him again.

Eric’s stubby little body, wrapped up in that black crocheting with those pearly white buttons, and with that long smooth black hair down over his shoulders; something about him drew her closer to him right then, aside from the pen and the sand dollar. Though she had her feelings with Alex, she wondered if Eric would be willing to be a part of things as well, not as an alternative but as part of the whole situation.

She held back to look into that round face again, and especially when those smooth lips curled up into a quaint smile.

“So, what brings you to my humble home once again?” he asked her with a gesture to the room around him.

“I wanted to ask you if you just would like to hang out and do something with me,” she suggested as she tucked the pen and the sand dollar into the safety of her purse.

“You know, I was actually thinking about doing just that,” he said with a wag of his finger. “Like, putting my boots on and going to this cool little retro diner up in Sheepshead.”

“You’re not really dressed, though,” she pointed out.

“I’m dressed!” he insisted as he brushed off the front of his sweater with a chubby little hand.

“You look like you’re in your jammies, though,” she declared with a chuckle.

“This is actually a house outfit,” he corrected her. “But who says you can’t go out in your jammies? Especially when we’re in New York and literally anything can happen.”

“Absolutely true!” she declared. “But I still wanna do something with you, though. I don’t really have much to do, and especially since my dad’s kind of in the hospital right now.”

“Oh, man, I’m so sorry to hear that,” he said with a hand to his chest. 

“As far as I know, he’s gonna be okay,” she assured him with a shrug of her shoulders, although she had yet to hear back from her mother about anything. “Plus, you’re done with studying for the time being.”

“Well, um… you wanna go out to eat to that place?” he offered her. “Go out and then go and visit your dad?”

“Yeah, we could do that,” she replied. “Barring visiting hours are still going.”

“Wait, what time is it?”

“Almost five-thirty,” she replied. “I think visiting hours go until seven and my mom still hasn’t called back and told me which hospital they’re at, either.”

Eric sighed through his nose and straightened out the bottom hem of his sweater.

“Well, shit,” he muttered. “Well, what do you think we should do? I don’t know any movies that I want to see.”

“Yeah, there’s nothing I want to see,” she confessed. “I don’t really wanna go out to eat and then do nothing after that.”

“I still do have to ask Alex a few questions about class, though,” Eric pointed out. “Except you said you just came from his place, right?”

“I did. We could do it again, though. I’m sure he’ll be happy to see the both of us.” She showed him a playful little smile, and he squinted his eyes at her.

“You just sayin’ that ‘cause you’ve got something special with him,” he teased her.

“Like you would know the full details of that,” she teased back.

“I feel like I do,” he said with a slight flutter of his eyelashes at her, much to her amusement.

“What’s the matter? You jelly of me and him?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “I’ll never tell,” he quipped.

“Unless…” She eyed his stout body, and he hunkered down with his shoulders hunched a bit.

“Unless what?” he asked in a small voice.

“Nothing. It’s—I don’t know if you would be a fan of it.”

He shrugged again, and that time he shook his head. “You can try me.”

“Do you know what polyamory is?”

He stopped.

“I kind of do,” he confessed with a tremble to his bottom lip.

“It’s just a suggestion,” she assured him. “I threw it out to Alex, and he seemed pretty excited by the idea.”

“Let’s just go to his place,” Eric stammered, and he scurried over to the bench next to the front door for his boots. Christine sighed at the idea that she would spook him like that, although she could see it in his eyes, and she could feel it as she lingered closer to his body. He swiped the keys from the bowl in the kitchen, and the two of them headed out to his car parked right outside of the apartment complex.

The sidewalks glistened wet with the new layer of freezing rain upon them, and the feeling of snow lingered in the air around them. The Nor’easter was upon them as they climbed into his car and drove on over to that tree-lined street over in Brooklyn.

When they passed the bus stop, a strange pit emerged in Christine’s stomach. Maybe it was the fact that the lamplight shone through the heavy white canvas curtain and she never saw Alex’s car anywhere on the street, especially as they parked three doors up from his front step.

She climbed out first and stood there on the curb for a second. Eric rounded the hood of the car and stood next to her.

“What’cha looking at?” he asked her.

“The front door,” she answered.

“The light’s on, though,” he pointed out.

“True…”

They walked on up to his front step; Eric lingered back so she could knock on the panel closest to her head.

Silence.

Christine shivered in her coat, and she knocked on the door again.

Still silence. No click of the lock behind the door. No sound of his footsteps on the hardwood floor in there.

It was a crazy idea, but Christine reached down for the doorknob and turned it. She peered over her shoulder back at him and the way that he hunched his shoulders like that of a penguin.

“Door’s unlocked,” she noted in a low voice. He raised an eyebrow at that, and Christine nudged the door open.

The apartment was still warmly lit from before, as he had left the lamp next to the couch switched on. Nothing looked different from the last time before. But the silence was apparent: sometime between the moment that Christine had left there and the moment that she had opened that door, he had gone. And yet, as far as she knew, he had left it unlocked for a reason.

“Hello?” she called out. “Alex?”

“Check this out,” Eric pointed to the coffee table.

There was a small stack of papers on top of the table as well as something that looked like a box for an engagement ring. Christine’s heart sank at the sight of it.

And yet, something about it felt incredibly fishy. As far as she knew, Alex had just gone out and was going to be right back, but he always at least locked his front door. Christine turned back to Eric and the quizzical look on his face as he examined the papers strewn across the table.

“Eric, take your boots off,” she advised him.

“Take my boots off?”

“Yeah.”

He sat down on the couch and nudged his boots off his stubby feet; Christine followed suit, and she picked up both pairs and brought them to the bathroom, right in the shower. She returned to the front room where Eric had taken his seat on the edge of the couch cushions.

“Hey, Chris, d’you bring that pen I gave you?” he asked her as she rounded the coffee table to the couch.

“Yeah, it’s in my purse,” she answered, and she picked her purse from the arm of the couch, and she took out that steely silvery pen. “What do you need it for?”

“Leave a note for Alex,” he explained as he showed her a blank sheet of paper from the bottom of the stack. “I’ll tell him that I swung by with you because we had some questions about school.” He held the tip of the pen over the paper and hesitated. “Here, you have better handwriting than I do.”

Christine’s hand shook a bit as she wrote out the note for him.

“Just sign it ‘dash, Eric and Chris?’” she asked him.

“Yeah.”

As she wrote that down, Eric picked up another piece of paper, that one from the very top of the stack, and he frowned at what was written there.

“What’s that?” Christine asked as she set down the note on the coffee table as well as the pen.

“Read this and tell me what you think,” he stated in a low voice.

“‘He failed at raising sufficient money for the wedding,’” she read aloud, and she ran her tongue along her bottom lip as if she was anticipating a big argument. Eric lingered next to her with his eyebrows knitted at that.

“‘He failed’—she makes it sound like Alex is in the wrong for having a job and working his tail off,” Eric scoffed, and he shook his head and raised his eyebrows back up. “I… have no words for how utterly cruel that is.”

Christine glared at the papers again, that time with a sneer on her face.

“Why doesn’t she just call him a fucking idiot while she’s at it, Jesus Christ,” she muttered. “By the way, what even is all of this?”

“No idea. It all looks legal, I want to say. But I really honestly couldn’t tell you.”

Christine set the paper down on the coffee table next to her pen, to which he shook his head as he delved through the rest of the pile.

“Wow, no wonder why he loves being around us,” Eric remarked.

“It’s almost like… we’re his escape. I mean, never mind the whole thing with me for a second. He probably loves teaching and playing music because it gets him away from her.”

Christine thought about Alex’s nylon guitar, how he had it tucked away in the back of his closet as a safe haven. Suddenly, it made sense. It all made sense, especially with his desire to take Christine down to the Smithsonian on a field trip of sorts. She sat there on the edge of the couch cushion with one hand on that piece of paper.

Her penmanship, so pristine and so picture-perfect, and yet it only made her want to crush her even more.

Eric swallowed out of nerves.

“What are you thinking?” he asked her in a low voice.

Christine never said a word, but the sound of a car door right outside of the apartment caught her attention. 

“Who’s here?” she wondered aloud in a low voice; something told her it wasn’t Alex, either. Eric then stood to his feet and walked over to the window for a peek out through the heavy white canvas curtains. He gasped and turned back to her in sheer terror.

“Oh, shit, we got company!” he decreed in a hushed voice. Christine picked up her purse, and she took Eric by the hand and she led him out of the main room of the apartment and into Alex’s bedroom.

“What do we do?” he demanded, worried.

“Get in the closet!” Christine declared, and she opened the door and slid inside first. Alex had finally cleaned out the floor of the closet and hung up some of his clothes on that heavy metallic rung over her head; Eric followed suit right next to her and her purse between the two of them. Lucky for them, their boots were tucked away in the bathroom, away from any prying eyes.

“Keep your feet tucked in and do not make a sound,” she whispered to him. Eric slid the door shut, and the two of them huddled down together against the back wall of the closet. He shivered and shook as if he was cold.

“Shhh…” She put her arms around him; through the shadows, she could see Eric close his eyes. She could feel his racing heartbeat through his shirt. She never moved, she didn’t breathe as Captain Howdy scoured the apartment right outside of that wicker door.

Her footsteps neared the bedroom. 

Though it was dark, Christine could see her silhouette on the other side of the slits in the panel. Eric bowed his head a bit, and she closed her eyes so she wouldn’t have to see her out there. She could feel the light in there switch on and filter through the panel. Eric’s fingers slithered up her back; the soft fabric of his sweater complemented his body to where he felt like a little teddy bear for her.

The footsteps walked on to the door again, and the light switched off.

Eric lifted his head and Christine opened her eyes.p to behold the darkness around them.

The front door closed, and he let out a low whistle.

She let go of him and reached for the closet door next to them; she nudged it open and crawled out of the closet first. She held there as Eric crawled out of there as well with her purse, and then he slid the door closed behind him.

Careful not to make the wooden floorboards creak, she crept along the hallway back to the front room.

Everything was just as they left it, including the note that she had written for Alex, albeit it had moved towards the other corner of the table, which meant that Captain Howdy had moved it to read it herself. Christine also noticed the space pen that Eric had given her was gone from the coffee table. But he beat her to the punch by piping up first.

“Fucking hell, that was close,” he muttered, and he ran his fingers through his black hair.

“It was like hiding from a serial killer,” she added, and she let out a low whistle.

“What do you think we should do now?” he asked her.

“Let’s just pack it in and go,” she replied. “No use in staying here if he’s not here, anyway.”

He sighed through his nose and nodded his head at that.

“You know what’s really strange to me is Alex told me that he had a date with her tonight,” she recalled. “I wonder what she was even doing here, especially when Alex straight up told me he would never lie to me.”

��Would he lie to her, though?” Eric asked her, slightly puzzled.

“I reckon so…” And then it clicked for her right then. She nibbled on her bottom lip as she adjusted the strap on her purse. He picked up on it himself as he adjusted the lapels on his jacket.

“We should probably go,” he quipped.

“Yeah, we should,” she added as she slung her bag over her shoulder. “She could come back as far as you and I both know.” Christine headed on back towards the front room of the apartment when Eric clasped a hand to her shoulder.

“Wait! Our boots!”

“Oh, shit!” she exclaimed, and they hurried back to the bathroom and the shower. Christine handed him his boots when the front door opened again.

“What do we do?” he asked her in a hushed voice.

“Um… shit. You get back in the closet, I’ll hide out here.”

Eric took his boots and skidded back across the hallway to the closet. Christine never moved a muscle as she squatted against the low shelf with Alex’s soap there in the corner. She nestled down there in the shower, with the curtain acting as her sole protection. She kept her gaze fixed on the edge of the curtain, and she hoped that Captain Howdy wouldn’t peek in there.

She pursed her lips and paid attention to her own breathing. Not a sound emerged from the bathroom or from across the hall. She hoped that the darkness of the bathroom would aide her in protecting her.

That is until she heard the footsteps on the hardwood floor of the hallway. 

Her knees ached from squatting down and hiding for so long, but Christine tried her best to keep the noise at the absolute minimum as she could do. She could smell something different from the hallway, something artificial, as if Captain Howdy had just eaten something sickly sweet before she came to the apartment. She glanced over at the bottle of soap next to her head. The thing that made Alex’s skin smell good and feel so soft to the touch: she lingered right next to it.

“Where are you, you snake…”

Christine believed that she had only imagined those words, but she wondered if they were real as Captain Howdy stood there in the doorway, a demon of Christine’s worst nightmares, ready to possess Alex and take him down to hell for merely living. He definitely lied to Captain Howdy about the date, especially if Christine hadn’t imagined those words. After what felt like an eternity, she bowed out of the bathroom and back into the hallway.

Christine heard her footsteps near Alex’s bedroom, and she hoped that Eric was keeping his composure in the closet.

Her footsteps then emerged from the bedroom and back down the hallway to the front room.

Once Christine heard the front door close, she parted her lips and let out a low whistle.

The closet door slid open and Eric let out a low grunt. Christine climbed out of the corner: though it was dark, she stood at the edge of the curtain and took a peek in the event of her being there.

When the coast was clear, she stepped out of the shower with her purse over her shoulder: she rested her boots, which were dry at that point, on the bathroom tiles and slipped her feet inside. She surfaced from the bathroom, and Eric did the same with his boots from across the hall.

“Let’s get the hell out of here,” she told him with a tremble to her voice. He quickly nodded at her, and then the two of them darted back to the front door. The sidewalk outside was dark except for the amber streetlights which hung over the trees.

A few people walked by but none of them seemed to pay any attention to Christine and Eric. They headed out to the sidewalk and his car parked three doors up from there. The wind was cold and thick with the feeling of snow: the wet sidewalk only served as a prelude.

As Christine ducked into the front seat next to him, the fear faded out once she thought back to the papers on the coffee table. She buckled herself in and nestled her purse in between her legs: her heart pounded in her chest the more that she thought about it. Eric fired up the car, and she peered out the window to the sidewalk.

She hoped to see Captain Howdy out there, just to gather an idea as to what she looked like rather than going by Alex’s description of her. They pulled out of the space and headed down the block, past the trees, and then Eric hung a left turn.

The arrogance. The entitled attitude. The demand for money from Alex’s pocket but also demanding he stay home and be the perfect husband. It made her stomach turn at the mere thought of him being with her, given his sheer sweetness and his kindness and his humility. When she thought about it, she thought about his eyes and their soulfulness.

It made much more sense at that point as to why they seemed so emotional and why he ached so much, and yet he seemed so reticent to share his feelings. If anything, it made the whole situation with her seem so much worse than she had imagined. He couldn’t talk about it, and whatever the reasons that lingered behind it only made her stomach turn even more.

They reached the end of the block, to where the cemetery stood. Not a soul for blocks to be found, and as a result, the right opportunity to roll down the window in the face of those incoming blizzard winds.

“Shut the fuck up, you miserable little snob!” she yelped out, and then she rolled the window back up to keep the warmth and the dryness at the helm. Eric ran his fingers through his black hair once again.

“You should say that to her face,” he suggested as they continued on down the street. It was then Christine remembered they were headed for the diner up the street.

“Definitely plan on it,” she promised him.

They passed by the diner, which had been shrouded in darkness at that point. Of course! Just a breakfast place above everything else. And she knew that they were headed for the heart of Sheepshead Bay and the briny brackish smell of fish there. At least it didn’t reek like the shores near the banks of the East River.

“Also, did you hear her whisper while I was in the shower?” she piped up as they reached the next stoplight.

He shook his head. “No, what’d she say?”

“I could’ve sworn she called me a snake,” Christine recalled. “I don’t know if she actually genuinely said it or not but I heard it, though.”

“A snake?”

“A snake, yeah. Which tells me two things: either she knows about me or she’s doing a little too much snooping on Alex, because she specifically said ‘where are you, you snake’.”

“Yeah, she could’ve been saying that about Alex,” Eric noted. “I couldn’t tell you if she knows about you at all.”

They rolled through the cozy neighborhood that was the Sheepshead Bay portion of Brooklyn. Sprinkles of cold rain spread over the span of the windshield, but neither of them seemed fazed by it.

“A snake—what the hell even,” he said out of the blue.

“Yeah, it’s like—does she even realize that that’s the man whom she supposedly loves?” Christine chided. “Shit, I’ve loved him more the last couple of months than she has the entire time they’ve been together.”

“You should also tell her to get fucked, too,” he added as they reached the diner. “Just for that alone!”

“Tell her to shut up and then get fucked,” she said with a chuckle.

“Exactly!”

Eric tugged on the parking lever and then, after he switched off the engine, he rested his hands on the rim of the steering wheel. They unbuckled their seatbelts at the same time, and they climbed out to the rain which drifted down from the black sky overhead. It was only a few degrees away from that thick snow that never failed to blanket the city in a field of pure white in the mere days before Thanksgiving Day. Eric bowed his head and scurried up towards the front hood of the car; Christine joined him and he put his arm around her as if to protect her as well.

They ducked into the warm, dry, brightly lit diner and took to the nearest booth closest to the window. There was a jukebox tucked in the far corner of the room, right near the big party tables. 

He once again ran his hand over the crown of his head.

“Your hair is fine, Eric,” she assured him with another chuckle.

“Oh, yeah. It’s just—kinda out of habit at this point.”

The waitress strolled on over to them, to which they both asked for cups of coffee.

“Couple of college kids,” he quipped once they were alone again, and she snickered at that.

“I really, really hope that he doesn’t notice that we were there,” he confessed.

“Doubt he will,” she said.

“Why is that?”

She smacked her lips and tapped her fingers on the table. “I left the space and sea pen there,” she said in a low voice. “Right on the coffee table. Worse, I don’t remember seeing it when we came out of hiding initially.”

Eric gaped at her.

“You’re shitting me,” he said, and she shook her head.

“So, she treats Alex like complete trash, like drags him around and makes him feel incredibly worthless and useless, and calls him a snake while she’s at it, and she apparently takes whatever she damn well pleases, too,” he remarked in a single breath, and then he shook his head as if he was disappointed. “Captain Howdy, indeed.”

“I was kind of hoping that we’d see her on the sidewalk just to see her for ourselves,” Christine said as she drummed her fingers on the edge of the table some more; “but I’m also glad we didn’t.”

Eric held back in silence as well as the next song came onto the jukebox.

“I used to know a girl,

she had two pierced nipples and a black tattoo.

We'd drink that Mexican beer,

we’d live on Mexican food.

Yeah, I wish I could go back.

Yes, back in time.

Esther used to be the kind of girl that you would

never leave.

She'd do anything to give me what I need for my disease.

She'd do anything…”

[skzsauce01]

Angel Sent From Up Above

Anniversary Request Special

Synopsis: Hyunjin, a new guardian angel, has fallen in love with a human. His human’s girlfriend, to be precise. Angel AU, background college AU and skater AU.

Warning: violence

Word Count: 8.3k

Pairing: fem!reader x guardian angel!Hyunjin; fem!reader x human!Jeongin

“Is she healed now?” Hyunjin asks the moment Jisung flies in. He knows Jisung is probably exhausted from keeping maladies away from you, but he needs the answer now. “Is her flu gone?”

“Yeah.” Jisung’s wings are tinged gray with ruin, but he keeps them on display for all the other guardian angels to see as he walks past them. They are proof that he has been doing his duty. They’ll return to white soon enough anyway. “Your human’s her boyfriend. Why didn’t you try to check through him? He visited a few times even though she told him not to.” Jisung sighs and shakes his head. “What an idiot. He’s going to get sick himself.”

“He hasn't visited recently, so I haven’t been able to check through him. The Archangel’s forbade me going to Earth unless it was something serious. I think he’s worried I'm spending too much time with humans.”

Jisung shakes his head. “I think he’s worried that he’s going to have to Seungmin you.”

“I'm not going to get expelled.”

Jisung shrugs, and ruin falls from his wings like ash. “You better watch out. You checked up on her too much last time she got sick, so he's probably trying to make sure you won't abandon your human. He's banished people for less. Case in point: Seungmin.”

“She's important to Jeongin, so she's important to me."

Jisung sighs. “Sometimes I think you’re more protective of her than I am.”

He says it as a joke, but Hyunjin knows it’s the truth. He cares deeply about you, maybe even more than his own human, but he will never say that last part aloud.

Hyunjin used to believe that becoming a guardian angel was the best thing that ever happened to him. All of his afterlife, he had wanted to be promoted, to be granted the pure white wings and the crown of sun rays. Regular angels had wings and halos but never white wings and golden halos; silver and silver was the “regular” combination.

Watching over a human was considered the highest honor an angel could receive, and everyone clamored to gain the attention of the Archangel. Hyunjin was not immune. He worked as a messenger for years, delivering even the most inane notes between the higher ups. He endured the attacks, verbal and sometimes physical, and kept his mouth shut. Eventually, the Archangel recognized his efforts, and before dawn broke on Earth, Hyunjin was named the new guardian angel of a baby boy, Yang Jeongin.

“You will protect him. You will guide him,” the Archangel said. “He is your responsibility now and yours alone. Do you understand?”

From Heaven, Hyunjin could only look at the wet, wrinkled face of his human. His human. “I understand.”

Then the Archangel flew off, and Hyunjin flew to Earth for the first time to meet the baby. No one noticed him as he phased through the hospital walls nor as his giant wings folded back. Only Jeongin would be able to see his guardian angel.

“Hello there, little one,” he whispered to the swaddled baby. The boy was fast asleep, and Hyunjin gently stroked his face. “I just wanted to introduce myself. I’m Hyunjin, your official guardian angel. I’ll always be nearby now, and I’ll always make sure you’re safe. Sometimes you won’t be able to see me, but I’ll always be watching over you. I promise.”

Jeongin stirred awake and stared back at Hyunjin. Two sets of eyes blinked at each other, one full of curiosity and one full of tenderness.

“Go back to sleep,” Hyunjin said. He drew his hand over the baby’s face, and Jeongin’s eyes fluttered shut. “Sweet dreams, little one.”

Guardian angels talked about their humans like parents, bragging about how gifted they were and sharing complaints about what unbelievable thing they did the other day. Hyunjin mostly did the latter. Jeongin was an adventurous child, which was just a nice way of saying that he liked to play with danger. Hyunjin often had to fly in to save him or to redirect the threat somewhere else. The other angels joked that Hyunjin stayed on Earth more than Heaven sometimes. He didn’t mind though. Even with his human’s shortcomings, Hyunjin adored him. He watched from above as Jeongin said his first words, attended his first day of kindergarten, and got into his first fight.

“He’s a troublemaker,” Minho observed.

Minho was a guardian angel as well, but he tended to lurk on the outer edges of the realm as the other angels avoided him for a reason Hyunjin hadn’t figured out yet. Hyunjin liked him well enough and treated him like a mentor, sometimes a friend.

“Hey, you’re not one to talk. Your human started a black market of candy at school.”

Minho shrugged. “I didn’t say it was a bad thing.”

Jeongin didn’t end up growing up into a troublemaker, to Hyunjin’s relief. The impulsive streak was still there, but he utilized his judgement more now. There were no car crashes or cases of alcohol poisoning, and when Jeongin asked out girls, it was with daisy bouquets and a suggestion to get lunch. Hyunjin slowly stopped making routine trips to Earth and chose to view Jeongin from the comfort of Heaven. It was there that Hyunjin noticed you.

“I think she’s upset with him,” Jisung abruptly says. “She cried after a video call with him, so if your human starts acting strangely, that’s why.”

The news makes Hyunjin stop mid-step, and he turns to his friend. “She cried? What? What did she cry about?”

“I don’t know. I was too busy trying to lower her temperature. Can you believe that she almost hit—”

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

“I just got back! There is no ‘earlier!’ Besides, we aren't allowed to interfere in anything that isn't dangerous. Heartbreak, if this is even what this is, is temporary."

“Humans do drastic things for love.” The movies has seen while watching Jeongin have told him that much.

“Which we will attend to when it happens. You’re a new guardian; you’ll understand them better over time. Not everything is life-threatening, fragile as they are.”

Hyunjin turns away from Jisung and glances down at Earth. The clouds part, and all of the brick buildings of the university rush towards his eyes as he focuses on Jeongin. He’s asleep at his desk, his lamp still burning bright above him. How long has it been since the video call? Or perhaps he’s just tired from the events of his day. But he looks so small and vulnerable in his chair. Jeongin isn’t fragile — the amount of situations he has gotten out of covered in bruises and blood is astronomical — but he is mortal.

“But she loves him,” Hyunjin softly says, “and he loves her.”

“Exactly. Humans fight over small things all the time, and this is one of those times.” Jisung places a hand on Hyunjin’s shoulder to placate him. “Trust me.”

“... I trust you.”

“Good. I need to rest, but we can catch up and see what stupid things they do after.”

The moment Jisung flies off to the rest area, Hyunjin goes against the Archangel’s orders and flies to your apartment. When he peers inside your bedroom window, he spots you sitting in bed in the dark, your phone screen illuminating your face. He phases inside and sits at your desk chair, resting his forearms at the top rail. You can’t see him, but he wishes that you could.

You mindlessly scroll through messages, sniffling every few seconds. Whether it’s from your crying or your illness, he doesn’t know. He can’t hand you a tissue or tell you comforting things or hug you like Jeongin can. When you wrap your blanket tighter around your shoulders, he wraps his wings around himself as well.

Suddenly you throw your phone beside you and let out a heavy sigh. “It can’t get any worse than this,” you say to yourself.

Hyunjin waits for you to say more, but you only stare at the ceiling with blank eyes. He can’t compel you to talk; only Jisung can, but he’s not here. So instead, Hyunjin knocks over the glass of water on your bed when you shift into a more comfortable position.

“Of course it can,” you sigh again and blot as much water as you can with your tissues. You pull another one out of the box with more force than necessary and furiously dab your sheets. “First I get sick, then I miss a homework deadline that I can’t make up because my professor lost his heart thirty years ago along with his hair, then my boyfriend breaks up with me for like no reason, apparently I have an exam tomorrow, and now I’ve spilled water all over my bed, so I can’t even sleep. Thank you, universe. I really needed this.”

He immediately regrets his decision.

“Worst freaking week of my life,” you mumble as you throw away the wet tissues. Hyunjin almost reaches out for your arm when you pass by, but he retracts it just in time.

When you climb back into bed, you draw your blanket up to your chin and begin murmuring numbers. They come out calm and even at first, but they become more tense as time passes. Hyunjin half-listens as he scans the contents of your desk. A laptop, a shopping bag, an open notebook with doodles on the margins, an uncapped black pen, and a pack of gum. He presses his forefinger to the point of the pen, drawing a tiny heart by touch. Then he stamps the heart among all your misshapen stars and imaginary flowers. You might just think it’s an ink smear, but he hopes you look at it and smile.  

You hit three hundred and forty-seven before you begin to sound drowsy. Hyunjin stands at the foot of your bed, watching as you finally drift off in the middle of three hundred and ninety-three. Serenity settles across your features.

“I’m sorry for what I did earlier. Good night and sweet dreams,” he whispers. He pats the corner of your bed before flying off into the night.

He needs to see Jeongin.

It was hard not to notice you when you were on a collision course with Jeongin. You were going too fast, and Hyunjin’s wings couldn’t carry him to Earth in milliseconds. With horror, he watched as you sharply turned the building corner on your skateboard and just barely jumped off in time when you saw Jeongin about to make the same turn.

“You okay?” Jeongin asked as he hurried to stop your runaway board.

“I should be asking you that!” you exclaimed as you followed him. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have veered that close to the wall. You’re not hurt or anything, right?”

“I’m fine, don’t worry.”

“Good. I can’t risk getting sued again.” Unsure of how to respond, Jeongin nudged back your board to you. You neatly stopped it mid-roll with your foot. “Thanks, by the way. See you around.”

“Yeah, see you.”

You kicked off, but before you left the area, you turned around and gave him a wave. Jeongin waved back, albeit more shyly than you. After a moment’s hesitation, he yelled out, “Be careful!”

“I’ll try!”

Jeongin laughed and turned the corner, looking at the brick wall with more wistfulness than most people usually did. Before he entered the building, he peeked around the next corner, as if he expected you to come speeding by again. You didn’t.

After that, he noticed you more often, usually swerving around strangers as you cut through campus. Whenever he had the opportunity to say hello, he did so with a smile, and you returned it with a waggle of your fingers before disappearing into the crowd. Once, you nearly crashed into a railing. You laughed it off and gave him another wave along with a funny face. Hyunjin felt something inside him melt. Jeongin must have too since he headed to his next class with the most lovestruck expression Hyunjin had ever seen on him.

It was then that Jeongin began forming a plan.

Two weeks after the first meeting, Jeongin waited in the quad for you to show up. Just as he hoped, you came walking down the steps fifteen minutes later, skateboard tucked underneath your arm. It was supposed to seem like a coincidence, but Hyunjin had followed Jeongin as he scoured nearby skate spots, asking around about you. Yesterday, he had learned where you liked to practice tricks. He got up from his bench, hands hidden behind his back, and approached you with the same moves and confidence he had rehearsed in the bathroom mirror.

“Hey! How have you been?” he called up from the very bottom.

Meanwhile, Hyunjin groaned. Jisung, who Hyunjin had tracked down two days prior to this, also did so.

“You said he was a charmer,” Jisung complained. “Look at him. He can’t even charm dogs with a treat.”

“For your sake, I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that. Just wait though. It’s going to get better.”

Jisung huffed. “It better. She deserves the best.”

Fortunately, you took it all in stride and waved hello at Jeongin. When you were finally beside him, you answered, “I’ve been good, thanks. You’re not here to sue me, right?”

“No! I was actually wondering if you could teach me how to skateboard. If you have time, that is.”

“Really? But I almost killed you that one time. I mean, I’d be happy to, but it’s kind of weird after what happened.”

“I’d rather skateboard than walk, and you seem pretty good at it.”

You shifted your weight to one foot, and Hyunjin chuckled when he saw Jeongin’s eyes wander to your jutted-out hip. Jisung made a noise of disapproval.

“Okay, what is this really about?”

“Skateboarding,” Jeongin said. Then he took a step closer and held out a bundle of daisies towards you. “And lunch, if you want.”

You broke out into a grin. “I am a little hungry right now. L/N Y/N, skateboarding extraordinaire and ramen enthusiast, at your service.”

“Yang Jeongin, also a ramen enthusiast. Nice to officially meet you.”

Jeongin is still sleeping at his desk when Hyunjin arrives. He shifts and exhales when the wind from Hyunjin’s wings create a small breeze but does not wake.

“How could you break up with her?” Hyunjin says. “She’s amazing and wonderful, and you decide that you don't want to be with her? Sometimes I wonder what’s going on in your head.”

Silence.

“If I were human, I would have never done that, but…”

Jeongin shifts again, burying himself deeper into the crumpled hoodie he’s using as a pillow. The table squeaks, and a mechanical pencil rolls off the desk. Hyunjin quietly places the pencil back to its initial place and shuts off the lamp.

“Take care of yourself, and make good choices, okay? I can’t do that for you.”

Instead of flying back to Heaven, he perches on the roof of the building across from Jeongin’s. Jeongin finally wakes up and notices that his light is off. He glances at it confusedly for a few seconds, wondering if he misremembered leaving it on. In the end, he decides it’s not worth the effort and falls into his bed. He didn’t even spare you a thought, a crime in Hyunjin’s eyes.

Then he realizes he may have a bigger problem on his hands.

Jisung.

Jisung is going to be very upset when he finds out about this.

Over the weekend, you brought Jeongin to the quad to learn the basics.

“Put both feet on the board now,” you said as you walked alongside a skateboarding Jeongin. He was borrowing yours to practice, so he treated it with more reverence than a well-used board would need. Even though he was pushing with his back foot, he was going at a snail’s pace.

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I’m going to lose my balance and fall.”

Perhaps it wasn’t reverence after all.

You shook your head. “No, you won’t. You’re not going that fast anyway. You can just step off if you really feel like you are. Give it a shot.”

To his credit, Jeongin lifted his foot a few centimeters off the ground before planting it back. “I’m going to lose control.”

While you did your best to persuade Jeongin to give it another try, Jisung gave Hyunjin a dissatisfied look. “I remember you telling me he was a daredevil. What is happening?”

He didn’t exactly know either. “He’s in front of his crush; give him a break.”

“These two better not end up dating. She deserves so much better than him.”

Hyunjin gave him a dirty look, Jisung gave him a “What? It’s true” type of a shrug.

You step in front of the board. “How about this?” you said. “You stand on the board with both feet, and I’ll pull you along so you can get used to the feeling and be less of a scaredy cat.”

“Okay.”

You took both of his hands and slowly guided him backwards. At the same time, you instructed him to put more weight on one side to change directions. Jeongin was surprisingly stable, and Hyunjin watched proudly as his human suggested that you increase your speed a little.

“See? It’s not bad?” you said. “Keeping balance isn’t that hard, right?”

“Yeah. Also,” he grinned, his meek demeanor completely gone, “we’re holding hands now.”

Your eyes widened as you glanced down at your joined hands, and you let out a delighted gasp. “You sneaky little—” Much to Jeongin’s alarm, you let go and smirked. “If you go past the bench without constantly pushing, I’ll let you hold my hand when you walk me home.”

“Kind of presumptuous of you to assume that I would offer to walk you home,” he teased, resting one foot on the floor. “Or is that what you want me to do?”

“You asked me to lunch with flowers. You were going to.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Then he kicked off, skating past the bench with ease. Still going, he looked over his shoulder and shouted, “Do you want to grab doughnuts before you head home?”

“Watch the lamp!” you yelled as you ran towards him. “Jeongin, stop looking at me and turn around!”

The collision with the lamppost was unavoidable, so Hyunjin simply watched as Jeongin took a flying leap off your board and took a tumble on the concrete. While you fumbled for band aids — Jeongin’s knee was scraped and bloody — Jeongin patted his pockets to check that his phone had not fallen out.

“So doughnuts?” he sheepishly asked.

“Sure. I’ll buy.” You finally found one hidden in the bottom of your backpack along with an alcohol wipe. “Guess you get to hold my hand after all.”

“How are you so prepared?” he asked, nodding to the contents you had unceremoniously dumped out whilst rummaging. “You have tweezers and gauze?”

“My mom made me carry a first-aid kit with me when she found out that I skate to class. It comes in handy.” You ripped open the package. “This might hurt.”

“You can kiss it to feel better.”

You laughed and pressed the alcohol wipe to his knee. “You’re such a flirt, I love it. Does it hurt?”

“Yeah, hurts a lot.”

You opted to kiss the band aid instead, causing Jeongin to pout and Jisung to sigh in relief. When you stuck it onto his skin, Jeongin made a big production of being relieved from pain, which made you laugh and shove him.

“No! She’s in love with him,” Jisung groaned. His wings drooped, and Hyunjin swore his halo actually dimmed when you kept your hands in Jeongin’s after you pulled him up. “Well, Hyunjin, looks like you and I are going to be best friends.”

Hyunjin personally saw no issue with that. Like Jeongin, he had been charmed by your antics and your easygoing nature. Protecting his human’s friends, family, or lovers wasn’t part of Hyunjin’s duty, but he felt compelled to watch over you too.

Because if he were human, he would have fallen in love with you too.

In the midst of his lamenting, Jisung flies down and sits beside him on the roof. His wings are still slightly gray, and Hyunjin strangely begins to feel self-conscious of his pure white ones.

“Didn’t the Archangel forbid you from doing frivolous things?” Jisung says in lieu of a greeting. “I saw you at her apartment earlier.”

“I just wanted to check up on her. Not that I thought you lied,” he hastily adds. “I wanted to see for myself. She’s a little… distraught.”

“She got into a fight with her boyfriend. It’s normal.” When Hyunjin doesn’t reply or even make a sound, he grows concerned. “Is it something else? She’s getting sued, isn’t she? I knew it was going to happen someday. When I find that smug richie-rich, I’m going to—”

“Jeongin broke up with her.”

“What.”

Hyunjin repeats his sentence, trying to block the view of Jeongin’s bedroom with his body. Jisung looks like he’s ready to rain judgement onto him, and while Hyunjin is rather good at his job, he’s not sure if he can hold back an enraged guardian angel. Jisung takes several deep breaths before regaining the little composure he can muster.

“I knew I hated him for a reason. I knew he didn’t deserve her,” he spits out, though the venom in his voice wavers. “Why would he even break up with her? She loved him so much.”

Hyunjin shrugs. “That’s what I want to find out.”

“When you find out, let me know. I’m going to see her now.”

Hyunjin stays on the roof until sunrise. Jeongin sleeps without any trouble, and when he wakes up, he looks fresh-faced, no guilt hanging over his head. Hyunjin feels something inside him cracking apart.

You truly don’t deserve this.

“Do you think they’re going to crash and burn?” Jisung asked as he studied you and Jeongin walking through the park, practically glued to each other’s sides. “I think they’re moving too fast. It’s only been a month.”

Hyunjin really didn’t care about that. As long as you and Jeongin were happy, he was happy. “A month is a pretty long time for them. Mortal lives are short.”

“Exactly. They should be more selective about their life choices.”

Hyunjin only rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to you. You were pointing at the tiny carousel in the middle and tugging at Jeongin’s sleeve. You dragged him over and pushed a coin into the slot for the ride. The lights lit up and a carnival theme played while you struggled to wedge yourself between the saddle of an elephant and the roof of the carousel. Jeongin sat on the edge, beside the tiger, and chuckled at your flailing limbs.

Hyunjin suppressed his own laugh. You were something special. Just last week, the two of you had made it official and started dating. You had done it in the sweetest possible way.

You had taken him to a local skateboarding shop to help him pick out his first board. Once he had chosen one — the ‘one’ being a light blue deck patterned with multicolored doughnuts — the staff at the shop sent him to the back to try it out. Meanwhile, you made the age-old excuse of needing to use the restroom when you were actually getting the flowers you had hidden in the back.

Hyunjin had turned into a pile of fluff when you gave Jeongin the daisy bouquet and asked if he wanted to officially be your boyfriend. You were so earnest. Jeongin playfully pretended to think it over, a feat Hyunjin knew he wouldn’t have been able to do if he were in his position. There were no fireworks or confetti when Jeongin finally said yes, but the staff did clap and cheer. Jisung looked on with contempt. Hyunjin looked on with envy.

“You know,” Jisung abruptly said, snapping Hyunjin back to the present, “when her last boyfriend broke up with her, she had ice cream for dinner for a week.”

“Oh.”

“You see why I’m being wary of him now?”

Hyunjin did, but Jeongin was different. His previous relationships always ended well, and on one occasion, he remained friends with his ex. He sighed and decided that a change of topic was necessary so he wouldn’t have to potentially endure a tirade. “Did you hear about Minho’s human? The bank he worked at got robbed, and he got held at gunpoint.”

That caught the overprotective Jisung’s ear. “What? Is he okay?”

During Hyunjin’s recountment of Minho’s recountment, the carousel ride ended. You squeezed out of your spot, hitting your head on the roof, and Jeongin pulled you in for a forehead kiss. The world grew brighter when you smiled, he realized.

Hyunjin shadows Jeongin around all day, hoping to learn the reason for the breakup. Unfortunately, Jeongin doesn’t say anything. He does show some regret though, as he scrolls through past messages and old pictures. When he heads to classes, he opts to walk instead of skateboarding like usual and avoids the quad whenever possible.

In the evening, while Jeongin is chewing on his salad like a cow to cud, Hyunjin pays you a visit. He finds in the freezer section of the grocery store with three pints of ice cream in your basket. From the looks of it, you’re about to add another three to your haul. Peanut butter pretzel sounds equal parts delicious and confusing.

Hyunjin studies your expression, frowning at the same time you do. Your eyes are ringed with red, your jaw tight, and your eyebrows seem permanently furrowed. When he follows you back home, he half expects you to start crying on the way, but you hold fast and manage to open a pint of the salted caramel flavor before the tears finally come. There’s no wailing, just sniffling and the sound of you furiously wiping at your face with the sleeve of your hoodie. In the midst of it all, you find the strength to reorganize the freezer to make space for the other pints. Something about that makes Hyunjin’s heart drop.

By the time your roommate discovers you in the kitchen, the entire refrigerator has been reorganized and the ice cream finished. You sit in a dark room, your finger hovering above the ‘SEND’ button of a message to Jeongin. Hyunjin can see it if he flies above you: “Can you please just tell me why? You keep saying you did something wrong, but I don’t even know what it is. Please let me decide if it’s worth breaking up over.”

“Rough day?” she gently asks as she flips on the switch.

“Yeah.”

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

“Maybe tomorrow. I just wanna process it right now,” you hollowly say. You grab your skateboard — the same black, paint-splattered one you had last year — and unlock the front door. “I’m going out for a ride, but I’ll be back in an hour or so.”

“Stay safe.”

After you leave, Jisung phases through the kitchen walls and hisses at Hyunjin, “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be with Jeongin?”

He nearly forgot about him. Eating dinner isn’t a dangerous task anyway though. Besides, if Jeongin does get physically harmed somehow, Hyunjin will feel an echo of the pain. Hyunjin glances at the door, and Jisung shakes his head.

“I’ll take care of her. Go back to Jeongin, and make sure he’s okay. You can’t keep leaving him all the time.”

“Fine, I’ll go.”

“Good.”

Hyunjin reluctantly goes back to Jeongin, who is still eating his salad. His resolve from last night is clearly gone as evidenced by his melancholy expression as he scrolls through even more photos. The one of you in mid-air makes him clutch his phone.

“Let me get one of you when you’re really high up,” Jeongin suggested. He was comfortable gliding around on a skateboard now, but nowhere comfortable enough to try any tricks. Nevertheless, that didn’t stop you from trying to get him to learn. The “pop shove it” was your favorite, solely for the amount of height you could get.

“Okay.”

As you did over and over again for your enthusiastic boyfriend who was unfortunately not that great of a photographer, Hyunjin observed from a rooftop behind Jeongin. Sometimes you looked like you were flying. He could imagine wings protruding from your back, and if the sun hit you just right, there appeared to be a halo as well.

“I got one!” Jeongin exclaimed as he held up his device to you. “Look.”

Hyunjin couldn’t see for himself, but your mouth dropped into an ‘o’ once you took a first glance. A flustered smile made its way onto your face, and everything about you turned soft.

“This looks amazing,” you said. You sidled up to him and rested your cheek against his shoulder, turning your head towards him. “I love you.”

The words hung in the air for a few seconds as both Hyunjin and Jeongin tried to process them. This was the first time you had ever said them, and it came seemingly out of nowhere. Hyunjin recovered first.

“Say ‘I love you’ back, you moron,” Hyunjin whispered, like Jeongin would be able to hear him from this distance. “‘I love you too.’”

“I wanted to say it first,” Jeongin finally said. “Ugh, I had it all planned out too. We were supposed to get doughnuts after this, and I was going to buy you one of those heart-shaped ones.”

You kissed him on the cheek and intertwined your fingers with his. “We can still do that.”

At the doughnut shop, he said the words second, and you kissed him again, leaving a crystal of glaze on the corner of his mouth. Hyunjin licked his lips as if you had left it on him instead.

“Did you find out?” Jisung asks when Hyunjin leaves Jeongin to check up on you. You’re skating around the city, making sharp swerves and weaving in-between lampposts. Jisung is trailing behind you in the sky, but he slows when he sees Hyunjin approaching.

“No, but—”

“Then go back to him. Hyunjin,” Jisung sighs, “I know you care about her, but she’s not your human. Jeongin’s your responsibility.”

“I know but—”

“Go back. And I’m telling you this not as your friend but as your senior. You’re a guardian angel, and you need to take your responsibilities seriously. I’ll get the Archangel involved if I have to. Do you want to get Seungminned?”

The threat of the Archangel strangely doesn’t scare him anymore, however. In fact, the Archangel being involved may solve many of his current issues.

“I’ll find you again when I find out,” Hyunjin slowly says.

Jisung nods in approval before racing after you again. Hyunjin heads to Heaven, not to keep an eye over his human but to become human.

Ten months into Jeongin’s relationship with you, Hyunjin asked Minho, “Is it possible to give up your divinity?”

Minho gave Hyunjin a curious look. “Is being a guardian angel that taxing for you? You haven’t even experienced a full lifespan yet. I know, twenty year-olds are annoying, but it’s not nearly as bad as forty year-olds and their mid-life crisis.”

“I’m just curious. Or, as a last resort,” he added, hoping that Minho would stop being suspicious if he joked about it. “My human’s been making some dumb choices.”

A lie, but Minho fell for it.

“I told you he was going to be a troublemaker!” he cackled. He sympathetically patted Hyunjin’s back. “If I’m being honest, I thought about it a few times. I always get assigned to the troublemakers. Probably because the higher-ups hate me for not tolerating their BS. They’re always playing favorites. Anyway, the easiest way is to get expelled by the Archangel. It’s happened a few times before.”

“Can’t you just ask him?”

Minho smirked. “You don’t think other angels have tried that? He only expels the ones who don’t want to be. It’s supposed to be a punishment.”

“What’s the hard way then?”

“Same thing minus the Archangel getting involved: your wings getting cut off,” he matter-of-factly answered. “The halo will break once your wings are detached. It’s only been done once, by the way.”

Hyunjin absentmindedly rubbed the area where the bones of his wings met with his shoulder blades. All he needed were two clean cuts across his practically impenetrable back.

“How do you do that?”

“With the Archangel’s sword. Another angel has to cut it though; you can’t do it yourself.”

The Archangel would likely banish him to Hell for even asking about his weapon. If Hyunjin ever did manage to steal the sword away, Jisung would never agree to it. He couldn’t just ask any angel to help him.

“How do you know about all this?” Hyunjin asked.

Minho hesitated, something he rarely did. He quickly recovered, hiding his sudden apprehension with his usual devil-may-care nonchalance. “I can’t give away all of my secrets.”

“We’re friends, aren’t we?”

Friends. The word hung in the air like the sun, and Hyunjin knew that Minho would tell him because underneath all of his bluster was loneliness. Because no one liked Minho, or if they did, they still avoided him anyway.

“Yeah, we are,” Minho answered, smiling for a second before a strange expression crossed over his face, pride mixed with a touch of sadness. “Do you really think the Archangel would have expelled one of his favorite guardian angels that easily?”

“Who are you talking about?”

“Seungmin. He asked me to cut his wings for him.”  

“I need you to cut my wings,” are Hyunjin’s first words to Minho after not speaking to him for days.

To his credit, Minho is only speechless for a few seconds. The dove in his hand pecks at him for more headpats before he recovers. “Well, do you have the sword?”

“No, but I think I can get it. When I do though, would you do it? You’re the only one I trust.”

Minho sighs and tosses the bird out of Heaven, grimacing a bit when he hears it squawk. When he faces Hyunjin, he smiles the same smile he did when he talked about Seungmin. “It’s always me, huh? I’ll do you one better. I’ll steal the sword for you. The Archangel’s been pissing me off anyway.”

For once, Hyunjin’s thoughts are not on you but his friend. He imagined that Minho would be willing, but perhaps he’s too willing. “Are you trying to get expelled as well? We can go together.”

“No, I like being immortal. I hate all of the BS I get put through sometimes, but the Archangel can’t kick me out. He swore an oath to me a long time ago before he got promoted, and it’s pretty much unbreakable. Besides, even Heaven needs a scapegoat.”

That explains why virtually no angels interact with Minho, Hyunjin being the exception. He has never heard of the Archangel being oathsworn, though it seems likely that the Archangel wants to keep that a secret.

“How are you going to get it?” Hyunjin asks. “How did Seungmin even get it? The Archangel always has it with him.”

“Seungmin was one of his favorites,” Minho reminds him. “He had easy access to him, and the Archangel trusted him enough to let him borrow it for ‘a study.’ Don’t worry about me though. Just wait for me on Earth. Somewhere where no one goes. I’ll find you, slice off your wings, and the Archangel won’t even know what happened to you.”

“That’s not possible. He always keeps it on him.”

Minho shrugs, a gleam in his eyes. “I’ve done it before. Why do you think I’m the scapegoat?”

Seungmin. For Minho and now Hyunjin, being Seungminned didn’t mean being expelled for being frivolous anymore; it meant leaving of your own accord.

“What happened to him?” Hyunjin asked. “Why didn’t the Archangel grant his divinity back? Someone should have spotted him on Earth.”

Minho’s wry grin was back. “You think the Archangel wanted everyone to find out the golden boy of Heaven no longer wanted to be an angel? Plenty of angels already saw him roaming Earth. It was easier to let everyone think that Seungmin was banished. So when they saw him on Earth, he was just a fallen angel, nothing important.” He nudged Hyunjin’s arm, and the solemn atmosphere vanished. “A troublemaking human isn’t all that bad. Like I said, the twenties are annoying, but they’re manageable. Is he one of those partying types?”

“He goes out sometimes,” Hyunjin carefully replied. Jeongin liked hanging out with his friends and you — mostly you, now that Hyunjin thought about it — but he wasn’t getting blackout drunk every night. At least, Hyunjin hoped he wasn’t. He usually watched over you if you were ever in the vicinity. “Speaking of which, I should check up on him.”

Minho said his goodbyes, and Hyunjin flew back to Earth once he saw that you weren’t with Jeongin. You were studying at your desk, rolling a pen between your fingers, reading through a document on your laptop. The desk light casted a warm glow on your face. You frowned, and your lower lip swelled outwards.

He wished he were human.

Just as Minho said, Hyunjin waits for him to arrive in a secluded part of the university campus. The building rooftop is devoid of anyone, and the area surrounding it is empty as well. The evening turns into night, then night into the early morning when the sky begins lightening. Still, Minho has not come.

He distantly wonders how Jeongin is faring and his promise to Jisung. When he’s human, he’ll ask Jeongin directly, maybe in disguise of a survey: “Why did you break up with your last partner?” Even to him, it sounds stupid. However, that’s not the real reason why he’s giving up his divinity, so it hardly matters to him. Jisung is resourceful; he’ll find out eventually.

Finally, when the sun peeks over the horizon, Minho descends from Heaven, a familiar silver sword in his hand. He lands beside Hyunjin, a triumphant smile on his face. But his usual humor has been replaced with solemnity.

“You’re sure about this?” he asks as he rests the blade on the top of Hyunjin’s wings.

He has never felt so sure of anything in his life. “Yes.”

“It’s going to hurt.”

“Then make it quick.”

Searing pain shoots through his body as the sword pierces through the thin skin and into the bone. The process is not as nearly as seamless as Hyunjin hoped it would be, and Minho breathes heavily as he pushes the blade down. Bones snap, feathers drift to the floor, and blood trickles down his back. The pain only grows greater near the end, but Hyunjin grits his teeth and keeps quiet. Dawn breaks when his wings finally fall to the floor, no longer white but splattered with red. Soon they fade into dust, and the remnants scatter into the wind. His golden halo shatters into sunlight. The world dulls as the last of his powers disappear, but everything feels much better than when he was an angel.

“Thank you,” he whispers to Minho, who he cannot even look at anymore. His eyes would be burned.

“You’re fallen, not quite mortal and not quite divine. You won’t be affected by all of an angel’s power.”

When Hyunjin cautiously glances at him, Minho waves the bloody sword at him. “See?”

“Yeah.” He wanted humanity, but this is good enough for him. He just needs you to be able to see him, hear him, touch him.

“I need to go back before Heaven becomes Hell, but find Seungmin if you can. He can help you figure things out. Last I heard, he’s living somewhere in the mountains.”

“Thank you,” he repeats. “Minho, I can’t even put it into words about how much this means to me. Thank you for everything you’ve done.”

Minho pats his shoulder before stripping off his clean shirt. “Clean yourself before you leave. No one wants to witness a walking crime scene this early in the morning.”

When he flies back to Heaven, the last thing Hyunjin sees are his wings, still pure white.

“Hey,” you said as you laced your fingers with Jeongin’s. He had just finished class, and you had waited for him outside the building. Hyunjin had sat on the other end of the bench, savoring the proximity. That was the closest he would ever get to you. “Are you busy tonight? The skate shop just announced — literally an hour ago, those jerks — that they were doing a midnight drop, and I kind of want a new deck.”

“Ugh, I’ve been meaning to buy new trucks, but I have to meet up with my group tonight. Send me pictures though.”

Disappointment only momentarily flooded through Hyunjin. If it was anything like the last two meetups, it would be at the library, and the library was a safe place. Jeongin would be fine there. Hyunjin would be free to shadow you as you went to the skate shop.

“I can get it for you,” you offered.

He shook his head. “It’s fine. Maybe I’ll just wait for a sale.”

“Don’t be surprised if I do get you new trucks,” you warned. You let go of his hand and held his arm. “I still owe you for last month’s dinner.”

Jeongin shook his head again, a smile making its way onto his face. “You don’t owe me anything but a kiss.”

“Flirt,” you laughed as you pressed your lips to his cheek. “Never change, Yang Jeongin.”

That night at the skate shop, Hyunjin hovered above you as you stood in line, chatting with others. There were no unscrupulous characters around, but he stayed with you, only going back to Jeongin when Jisung insisted. However, by then, Hyunjin had already seen you eyeing the shiny teal trucks through the window. Hyunjin knew nothing about skateboards even after all those months, but you seemed pleased by them.

“You’re only getting trucks for sure?” your brand new acquaintance asked. “This is, like, the biggest drop they’ve ever done.”

You shrugged. “I’m kind of on the fence about the decks I saw on the email. I don’t know. Maybe wheels too?”

Meanwhile, Jisung hissed, “Hyunjin, go before something happens. What if a fight breaks out?”

Hyunjin sincerely doubted that one would happen at the library. He lingered around, taking his time unfolding his wings and stretching them.

“Your boyfriend’s lucky,” your acquaintance sighed.

“Nah, I’m the lucky one.”

Daisies, that’s what he needs right now. Choosing the rooftop of a building was not a smart decision, but the access door is thankfully unlocked, and Hyunjin races down all of the emergency stairs. However, with no form of currency on him, Hyunjin heads to the quad, hoping that he can pull up some dandelions for you. You need to be supported, and bright yellow flowers are just the thing.

What he doesn’t expect though, is to find you doing pop shove its at your usual spot. It’s so early in the day; did you even go back to your apartment to sleep?

“Good morning,” he calls as he walks closer. He waves at you, and you can see him! You tentatively wave back and give him a halfhearted smile. “How are you today? You look beautiful.”

“Thanks, and I’m fine,” you politely reply as you take a step back away from him. “What about you?”

Hyunjin curses in his head and takes another step towards you. “I’m good. Really good, actually. I was wondering if you could teach me how to skateboard. I’m new here, and skateboarding seems like an efficient way to get around.”

You flinch at his words, and he desperately wants to take them back. How did Jeongin do it? Why do his statements come out so stiff? “You seem pretty good at it.”

“Are you not cold?” you blurt out. Hyunjin curses again as he realizes that he’s shirtless. His old one was stained, and Minho’s was as well as the result of his cleanup. This isn’t how it’s supposed to go. “You know, I have to get going, but it was nice meeting you.”

“Hyunjin. My name’s Hyunjin.”

“Nice meeting you, Hyunjin.”

You grab your board and immediately head off to the direction of your apartment. Hyunjin is tempted to follow, but he stays where he is. A bad first impression isn’t the end of the world. The only thing holding him back is his lack of a shirt.

He wanders through the quad, scanning the grass for some flowers. Most of them are the white, fluffy dandelions, but he needs the bright yellow version. However, he takes the white ones anyway in case he can’t find any. The wind scatters the seeds, and he—  

“Hyunjin, I told you not to come back.”

Jisung.

Hyunjin turns around, dropping his bouquet onto the ground. To his horror, not only is Jisung present but also the Archangel. His sword is strapped to his side like usual, not a blood splatter tainting it. Minho did an excellent job of cleaning up the crime scene.

“Jisung, Archangel,” Hyunjin nervously greets. The Archangel frightens him now. “How can I help you?”

“Jisung, why did you bring me here?” the Archangel asks. “I have other things to attend to.”

“He’s abandoned his human too many times, and I don’t think he’s fit to be a guardian angel anymore.”

The Archangel grasps the hilt of his sword and studies Hyunjin, up and down, back and forth. He circles him, and Hyunjin can almost feel his mortality-divinity shining through his body. Jisung hasn’t noticed yet, but there is no doubt the Archangel hasn’t.

“Normally,” the Archangel begins, “the punishment for not fulfilling your duties as a guardian angel is being expelled from Heaven. But you have already fallen.”

“What?” comes Jisung’s shocked voice.

“It was a mistake,” Hyunjin tries. Minho’s words ring in his ear: He only expels the ones who don’t want to be. “I thought I wanted humanity, but I’ve realized that being a guardian angel is the best thing that has ever happened to me. Please. Grant me my divinity back. I will never abandon my human again. I will swear an oath if I have to.”

The Archangel smiles with no teeth, and a chill runs down Hyunjin’s spine. “I’m in a forgiving mood today, so I will do just as you ask. Your divinity will be granted back, but you will no longer be a guardian angel. I’m stripping you of those powers and those duties. You will be replaced immediately. It was my mistake for tasking you with such a large responsibility when you weren’t ready yet.”

With just a snap of the Archangel’s fingers, Hyunjin’s senses sharpen, and the world comes hurtling at him. Nothing is dull anymore, but everything feels so dark and wrong. You will never be able to see him, hear him, or talk to him again. And he will never be able to either. Power surges inside of him, and new wings burst through his shoulder blades, fanning out once they reappear. A silver halo hangs over his head. There is no physical pain into becoming immortal again, yet he wishes there was something. Everything he and Minho did was erased with ease.

Hyunjin swallows the lump in his throat. “Thank you,” he chokes out.

“You’re very welcome. Come along now. Only guardian angels are allowed to be on Earth.”

Hyunjin follows the Archangel back to Heaven while Jisung goes after you. The Archangel loudly deliberates on who he should be replaced with, and Hyunjin knows that his request was not granted with kindness. The Archangel informs that he will be a messenger again. Hyunjin barely hears him as he takes one last look at Earth. Jeongin is there. Jisung is there. You are there.

Hyunjin avoids Minho’s eyes as he flies inside the realm behind the Archangel and hides among the rest of the regular angels until he is called to send a message. The higher-ups recognize him, make snide remarks about his demotion, and make pitiful faces at him. He barely registers them. There is a hollowness in him, and no matter how many memories he recalls, it isn’t enough to fill the void.

A few weeks later, Jisung approaches him, but even he stays a healthy distance away. “Hyunjin.” The disdain is clear.

“Jisung.”

“You knew about the reason all along, didn’t you? You were there when it happened.”

“When what happened?”

Realization dawns upon Jisung, and he shakes his head in disgust. “I should have known. You weren’t with him that night because you left him like you always did! You could have done something. Make him fall off his chair or something. Make the girl lose her balance. Instead, both of our humans suffered because you weren’t there.”

“What happened?”

“A girl from his group project randomly kissed him, and he thought he had been leading her on and cheating on his own girlfriend, so he broke up with her because he thought that would be the right thing to do instead of just telling her what actually happened. They’re back together now because he finally got the nerve to give her closure. It took nearly a month. They were miserable for a month. All because of you.”

It stings. “They’re okay now, right?”

“They’re fine, no thanks to you.” Just when Hyunjin thinks he’s going to leave, he takes a step forward, lips curled into sneer. “You know, angels and humans aren’t allowed to be with each other. It’s been forbidden for millenia.”

“I know,” he whispers. “But I loved her, and I had to try.”

“She would have never chosen you anyway.”

He never had a chance, did he?

~ ad.gray

Yes, you did! I remembered it and wondered if you were going to come back! Hope you enjoyed this! <3

[adelheidvonschicksal]

Gosh, the Hawks x intern! Reader sure made me tear up :(

Like imagine him regretting not being there for her and his baby girl from the start and trying to make up for it now 😭😭💖

I was going to imagine this, but I couldn't because I ended up writing 3000 words. 😭 I just love fictional babies so much and want them to be happy, okay? I left it open-ended, so I wouldn't betray the "kick his ass" gang. I'm a weak woman 🥺 I still don't know much about him other than what Wikipedia and memes tell me but here we go!

Part One | Part Two

Hawks doesn’t think you’ll ever let him in, not that he could blame you. Every time you see him, your expression hardens, pretty eyes narrow into a glare, nostrils flare, breathing heavy. His only bright light during your last exchange is that you wait three seconds before slamming the door in his face rather than the usual zero.

Oh, he’s definitely softening you up. Not.

It’s been a month now that he’s been at this, and he is starting to wonder if this entire thing is worth the headache. All he’s accomplished so far is bothering you with his requests to talk. Then, he remembers the little angel that you have with you and thinks it’s worth the headache.

At first, he had ignored your previous exchange that day at the park and the nagging feeling in the corner of his mind upon seeing the two of you. Until that same feeling started to weigh on his heart. He quickly realizes what those feelings were. Guilt and regret at not taking another path with the high schooler he so carelessly took advantage of and impregnated.

If he had, he could be annoying Endeavor about his cute little wife right about now.

Hawks feels a bit like Icarus flying too close to the sun and now sinking in a turbulent ocean of his own making. Instead of drowning, the world decides to throw him a lifeline as the receptionist patches a call through to him.

His heart jumps when he hears you on the other side, resistant but succumbed in your plea, “I need your help.”

The very next day you arrive at the agency, a small hand latched in your own as you stand in the middle of his office. You didn’t want to be here. The thought of being in the same place where your daughter was conceived with the same man who left you makes you antsy. You can’t believe you actually let Fumikage talk you into this.

You remember that phone conversation.

Your daughter’s quirk had been coming in full force, so fast you didn’t know how to handle it. You hoped that Tokoyami would have been able to help her control it since he trained with the very person she received her quirk from much longer than you had and that he was part avian himself.

“Please, Fumi. It’s getting worse,” you begged over the phone. “She accidentally hurt a few of the kids at school. No. No. They’re fine, some cuts and a little shook up, but fine. They won’t let her back in until she gets it under control though, so please.”

“I told you there’s not much else I can do. The best solution would be to go to the person with the same quirk.”

He’s right. He’s absolutely right, but you don’t want to rely on someone like that man especially now. What if he ended up hurting her?

“I don’t want to do that.”

“I know you don’t, but he’s been trying to contact you, right? So I'm sure he'd do it if you asked.”

“Yeah…” You growled. “I swear if he makes one smart-ass remark, I might kill him in front of her.”

“Remember it’s not for you. Although, I don’t think you could kill him even if you tried.”

“If we combined our strength…”

“No,” Tokoyami immediately shot down.

You sighed. “I’m only joking. Do you have the number to the agency still?”

Now you’re here, watching the very man who abandoned you kneel down to your daughter’s eye level. Hawks couldn’t believe he’s actually seeing her. It’s a bit exciting to see how much bigger she’s gotten in such a short time with big fat wings at her back holding way more feathers than she can probably deal with.

“So, this is the special girl,” he says. She shies away from him, hiding behind your leg for protection. “Come on out, Baby Bird, you don’t have to be scared of me.”

Slowly, she peeks from behind you, fingers still clutched in your pants leg, and Hawks smiles.

“There you are. Did your mommy tell you who I am?”

“You’re her and uncle Toko’s old teacher, and you’re going to help me control my quirk.”

“That’s right. You just turned five, right? That’s when a lot of quirks can get kind of hectic.”

“Yeah. I had a birthday party with Elsa last month.”

Hawks’ smile falters for a second as he thinks he doesn’t know exactly what day her birthday is. At least now he knows the month. Quickly, he’s back to normal to keep an air of happiness in the situation. “You know I know a lady that looks a bit like Elsa. She has ice powers like her too,” Hawks says, having grown a little closer to the number one hero's family as he tried to figure out what to do about his own family situation.

When her eyes widen, Hawks knows he has her hook, line, and sinker. She throws her initial shyness to the wind in exchange for excitement. “She does? Can I meet her?”

“I’m sure we could make that happen. If not, her son has an ice quirk, too. I’m sure he’d show you.”

The young girl smiles at him, but Hawks notices her vision drifting to something else. Cautiously, her tiny hand stretches out to him, making him nervous as to what she’s doing, before chubby fingers clutch around the edge of his wing, squeezing into his feathers. “They’re pretty,” she mumbles.

“Want one?” he asks, and she nods.

“This is my birthday present for you, don’t lose it,” he says, offering her a single long feather from the back of his wings. She clutches it to her chest tightly, a happy smile plastered on her face.

Then, you interrupt.

“Baby, mama has to run some errands, but she’ll come right back to pick you up when the clock says twelve. You remember how that looks like, right?”

“It’s a 1 and a 2,” she says, bringing up her hands to show you.

Hawks decides to walk you out as your daughter sits in his office chair, twirling around his feather in her hand. He isn’t sure what to say to you now that he has you near him. Should he thank you for bringing her? Or would that only serve to piss you off since it’s not like you wanted to do this by choice?

“Hawks,” you say, bringing him out his thoughts. “There’s one more thing before I go.”

“What is it?”

“Don’t tell her,” you order. “Don’t you dare tell her.”

His chest squeezes at that but he can understand why you wouldn’t want her to know that information when the two of you aren’t even on speaking terms outside this issue. He didn’t want to do anything to make the situation worse either, so he brings his fingers to his mouth and zips his pinched thumb and index finger across his lips. “I’ll make sure mine and anyone else’s lips are sealed if they want to keep their job,” he calmly reassures you, always calm and carefree so you wouldn’t think that your rejection is successfully deterring him.

From then on, you drop your daughter off at his office twice a week to get a better handle on her powers. You didn’t stay long aside from that, but Hawks likes the small moments when all three of you are in the same room together.

The hero can be thankful that at least one of his girls likes him. His Baby Bird quickly attached herself to him, always pattering after his footsteps like a shadow, and always asking if he’d hold her hand, a smile forming whenever he engulfed her smaller one. He even keeps his promise to let her see Rei, or Elsa as Baby Bird so passionately refers to her, now that the woman is out of the hospital.

He thinks that if that family can recover from what happened then his shouldn’t be much different as long as he keeps trying to put in the effort and not step on your toes too much.

It isn’t long before Baby Bird begins to get a hang of her powers. At least enough that she wouldn’t be hurting anyone at school. Hawks had hoped you would still allow him to train her past that point though, but you quickly told him that she wouldn’t be returning to the agency when she reached that point.

He was sad to hear it of course, but he didn’t want to cause what little progress he made to be broken even if he really wanted to see her fly at least a few inches before she left. She’s been getting into the habit of jumping instead of walking to practice like he used to do. Although, she resembles more of a bouncy frog than a bird, to be honest.

He watches, amused, as she bounces along next to him in the hallway.

“You’ve gotten good at that,” he compliments, drawing her attention upwards.

“I’ve been practicing lots at home, but I’m not that good yet. Will you teach me how to fly like you do tomorrow?” she asks.

“No, Baby Bird. Didn’t your mommy tell you that we’re done with training after today?”

She hangs her head down, her bouncing stopping as she drags her feet. “…Yes,” she answers, letting his arm go lax as she releases his hand. Hawks pauses, watching as she draws her hands to her waist and anxiously bunches and twists the bottom of her shirt, and Hawks throat goes dry as she asks with glossy eyes, “Daddy, why doesn’t mommy like you?”

He’s completely silent, wondering exactly when she figured it out or if someone in the office had told her, let alone told her the fact that you didn’t like him. Well, he guesses it doesn’t take a genius to figure that out. “How do you know to call me that?"

“Yesterday, my teacher told us that we inhe-inhe-inherent our quirk from our parents. I remember you said Elsa and her son had the same quirk, and you have big wings like mine and can make your feathers move.”

Hawks smiles. She’s a sharp one to piece it together in a day. “Your teacher is right. I bet you’ve never seen anyone else that looks quite like us.”

“No,” she answers, sniffling. “I don’t want to go home. I want to stay and play with you. Mommy is so mean to you. I hate her!”

Hawks cups her chin in his hand, forcing her to meet his eyes. “Look at me. Don’t talk about your mommy like that. It’s my fault she always gets upset when I’m around. I was mean and bullied her a lot, so if you’re mad, be mad at me. I’m the reason we can’t play together more.”

She sniffs again but it isn’t enough to stop the globs of tears running down her cheeks. “When we saw you at the park, mommy started crying when we went home. I didn’t know why she did.”

Hawks knows why. The reason you’re always so angry at him is because of the hurt you still hold inside for what he did to you. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have cried. The opposite of love is indifference as they say, and he knows it’s true because he had been indifferent to the pain he caused ever since the day you came to him with weepy eyes and shaking arms as you told him you were pregnant. You had been scared, and he told you to deal with it.

Hawks scowls. He’s starting to feel sick.

"If you make someone cry, you should say sorry."

Hawks smiles. “I know, baby. I'll apologize to your mama, and I’m going to try my best to make it up to her, and you, too. I’m not going to make either of you cry anymore. Then, when she forgives me, we’ll play together again.”

She looks to him, a small glimmer of hope. “You promise?”

Hawks chuckles and grins at her, the same charming expression that made you fall for him in the first place. He holds out his hand. “Even better. I pinky promise,” he says and confidently hooks her finger with his. “Repeat after me: birds of a feather stick together.”

“Birds of a feather stick together.”

“That’s my girl,” he praises before dropping her hand to pet her head. “I think we might have a little time for me to teach you something before your mommy gets here.”

At the end of the day, Hawks is already waiting for you at the front steps of the agency as your call pulls into parallel park at the sidewalk. You step out and walk towards the steps, but your daughter meets you halfway by hopping over them, her wings flapping to hover before she falls back down onto her feet.

You smile at her. You can’t believe she’s actually flying, at least a little that is, but your surprise is ruined when she cheers. “Mommy, look at what daddy taught me,” she says, bouncing to show you her new hovering skills. “Are you looking? Are you looking?”

“Yes, I’m looking. You’re so good at that. You need to show me more when we get home,” you say but to be honest it’s the last thing on your mind as you glance over to Hawks. “Baby, why don’t you go sit in the car, and I’ll be right there.”

Hawks watches as she obediently follows your instructions, turning her back and happily hopping towards the vehicle.

“(Name), I-” Hawks says, unsure what to expect when your angry glare turns back on him. It isn’t until his yellow visors are already clicking against the pavement that he realizes you hit him. He hisses at the sting on his cheek. “That actually kind of hurt. I guess I had it coming, but I’m not really sure what I did at least recently,” he tries to play off, but you aren’t having it.

“You told her, you told her,” you keep repeating, and he’s backing away in case you decide to strike him again. “Are you trying to get her on your side?”

“Not in the way you’re thinking, and I didn’t tell her,” Hawks explains. “She pieced it together on her own. She’s sharper than you think, she can see that we look alike when she looks in a mirror, and she knows how quirks work. That’s more than enough for her to tell.”

His explanation is enough for you to halt in your assault, and you angrily huff under your breath. You don’t shift to leave, and there’s no door for you to slam away. He finally has you available. “So, what do you want to do now?” he asks.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean she knows; and honestly, I’m glad she does,” he confesses. “I wouldn’t mind seeing her again if you’d let me.”

Hawks swallows his anxiety as he waits for you to answer. Your eyes shift from him back to where she sits in your car, fiddling with the toys obviously left to clutter in the back before you look back at him, thinking.

“She does seem to like you…for some reason,” you add distastefully, but you know full well how happy training makes her. How her little smile beamed when she fluttered over those steps. How the word daddy came from her so sweetly. “She always likes talking about you after she spends the day here. You make her happy. But that’ll just make it harder for her when you leave ag-“

“I won’t,” he cuts off.

“How do I know that?”

“You don’t but I promise not again. (Name), I’m sorry. I’m sorry for telling you to go away like a burden and for not being there. You must’ve been scared, but I won’t leave either of you alone from now on even if you don’t want me there. I’ll be there if you need me.”

“Drop it. I’m not a part of this,” you tell him.

He knows that you’re rejecting his apology, but his ears can pick up what others can’t. He can hear those soft inflections in your voice right before you harden it into aggression, the slight stutter that you so cleverly thought you hid from him as you nearly fumbled your words, a little glimpse of a teenage girl with a crush on her sensei. “Not yet but do know I plan on trying until I make you fall for me all over again. I miss your cute little face when I'd smile at you.”

You glare. “Say that again, and I will smack you in your "cute little" face.”

"You already did that, but if it makes you feel better go ahead, I can take it if it helps you forgive me.”

He just didn’t expect you to actually take him up on the offer. This time, it’s the other cheek that burns.

“You’re right. That did make me feel better,” you say, smirking as you shake the sting from your hand. Hawks grunts, rubbing his jaw as you begin to walk towards your car. He bends down to pick up his shades before following close behind. You open the driver’s door, and say, “I expect you to pick her up at 9 tomorrow. If you’re late, don’t bother showing up ever again.”

Hawks smirks. You certainly became aggressive these past few years, but he thinks he kind of likes it. As you get in your car, he notices Baby Bird smiling at him from the window, her hand up and clutched around that birthday feather he gifted to her as she waves him off.

He’ll definitely be there on time.

[withoneheadlight]

| billy & will + pre-harringrove | full fic in spanish |

~

There’s an in-between. The high school and the middle school. A bare piece of land, yellowed from the lack of grass and the rough kiss of the sun and, right in the middle, an old shack.

It's a shabby thing that accumulates lack of re-paintings and excess of humidity but that’s out of sight, in that way of things that are just there but no one wastes time looking at anymore are.

That's where they meet.

Billy lights up a smoke. Slides his ass up an ancient, long retired desk, pasture now of the damp and rot, and leans against the peeling wood. Front and back-row seat to the long column of trees the wind’s rippling along on the other side of the wire fence. The ember warms up his lips as he inhales a deep puff and exhales a,

“You’re getting soft, Billy Hargrove”

He leans his head back and closes his eyes, ears on that ceaseless chirping of the bids that sews together the slow-passing hours of the days and nights of Indiana, and on the delighted screams from the middle-schoolers, remembering that, somewhere in there, there's a bunch of kids who will still be laughing just as hard, just as happy, a few years down the road. That maybe even Max could be one of them, if Billy hurries. That maybe he will too, if Billy is able to control that instinctive reaction that pulls his skin inward and screams at him to stopstopstop, that the soft skin shreds, falls apart so easily.

But maybe it can be both of them, if Billy manages to clench his teeth hard enough and keep on softening.

‘Cause soft skin hurts when it breaks but,

"Hey!"

Sometimes it’s worth it.

Will’s smiling wide. Stops running, abruptly, and then just stands in there, panting. He’s got a funny nose and giant eyes. The kind of bangs that make you wanna blow them out of his eyes even though what they're is too short, actually, and Billy’s always thought he'd do better in life if he didn't. Notice things. If he didn't see that widewidewidewide smile and could read it so easily.

"I've been dying to show you this!" Will kneels down into the grass, chopping out the words in between exhalations. Pulls at the zipper of his backpack, chest heaving, and he doesn't realize he's going to get dirt on the knees of his jeans or that Billy can read it. His relief. Of finding him in here and not just an empty desk. Of how for a kid every single day more means 'You care’.

(About me)

It was early December. Friday right after last period and one of those silly things that only happen in movies. Something so like scripted and choreographed that Billy nearly considered looking up at the ceiling to make sure John Hughes wasn't silently watching them, taking notes from above. They crashed in the middle of a corner. Billy sped up ‘cause he was in a hurry and the only way to catch Max in time lately was to intercept her right out of class. Will ‘cause he's always going like that, Billy knows now. Always a thousand miles per hour. Always verging on time-jump speed to then being the kind of kid who seems so quiet it's scary. They crashed. Hard. In the middle of that corner. Papers flying all over and a curse (Will) and a muffled groan (Billy) and they ended up pulling at the same paper one from each corner. A drawing. Trolls and wizards and a castle and an emerald-green light. A star in the distance, auguring bad omens. Billy forgot to be frightening and Will must have forgotten he was supposed to be frightened when he blurted out a,

"Fuck, Byers. This is frikin’ fantastic."

No fear or reticence or that way he sometimes has of bumping into words and stumbling, just a "Really?" eyes huge and bangs brushing against his eyelashes as he blinked when Billy also forgot he was also supposed to― well, supposed to be Billy Hargrove.

"’Got more?"

So now he skips English instead of Algebra, every Tuesday and Thursday. Sneaks off to that in-between place he knows no one wastes time looking at anymore to light up a smoke, same time as Will has his recess. And the kid doesn't always manage to shrug off of his flock of nerds but he’s lucky, some days.

And he brings the drawings.

Orcs and goblins and enchanted mountains on the northwest and it seems to Billy that there are more princes than princesses and that if there are any, they’re almost always sorceresses, almost always queens and that your attention gets hooked on their burning eyes, not in the clothes they’re missing and Billy feels like it's a small grain of sand, this thing they’re doing. Knows that someone’s already keeping a solid ground under Will's feet ('Joyce' he says it’s her name. And it stings, the way he manages to fit so much love, into such a tiny word). But it also seems to him that maybe it doesn't take much more, for Will, just a few grains of sand, to replace those that being a strange kid in a small town sick with apprehension for what it finds strange, takes every day away from him.

So Billy’s gotta have to clench his teeth ‘till his gums start bleeding ‘cause is that, or let his skin toughen up again. Is that. Or fucking everything up.

And ave María, Billy doesn’t want to fuck it all up again.

So he sucks on his cigarette. Hooks up an eyebrow. Waves his hand to hurry the kid up.

“Mmm. That’s how good you think it is, dickwad? ‘C’mon, got my next class in twenty”

Will flies over the papers. Head nodding and fingers skimming fast. Finds what he’s looking for and yanks it out, raises it up triumphantly in his hand. It’s the sword in the stone and he carries it up to Billy with wet knees and just a little mud-staining. It’s February and the sun’s burning brightly over all the wetness the night’s spent crying. The drawing is a huge dragon, wings made of leather and cartilage, spread out in eclipse in front of the moon, only a few silver rays illuminating the dark knight in front of it. Blue eyes lined in black, blond curls cascading down his back and Billy was clenching his teeth but they part now, ‘cause the figure looks too much like him to be a coincidence. A smile devours his whole mouth. Soft. A joke itching on the tip of his tongue. He grunts a,

“I’ve been called many things. But never this, Byers”

Only half his expression’s visible, eyebrows covered with those thick bangs, and Billy has to once again fight the impulse to blow them out.

“¿Hum?”

“Knight” he says, drawling the teasing tone out “In shining armor”

And It’s such a loss, all that hair. Because it’d pass unseen, if you don’t know him. The way his eyebrows spike up underneath and it burrows in between them, the eagerness of teasing back. But Billy’s lucky, ‘cause it’s been more than two months like this and Billy―

Knows him. Well enough at least. So it doesn't pass unseen to him.

“You know the drill, William. Spit it out. Can see you’re holding it up from miles”

Will purses his lips out tight. Looks like he’s trying but. Nah.

“Wouldn’t be that shiny '' scrunches his nose. Throws a meaningful glance at Billy’s disheveled looks. More thoughtful than not, way more intentional. But that's something he'll figure out when he grows up.

Billy cackles. Will's smile widens, satisfied. Hops onto the desk next to his. Billy offers him the cigarette.

“And―this?” Will shrugs inwardly. Glances up at him. Then down, at the exchange between their hands. Takes the cig in between two fingers and it doesn’t burn but he barely presses them against the filter, anyway, as if he’s afraid it would, all of a sudden.

"Retaliation," Billy half grunts, half laughs, and Will huffs, but swallows a deep breath to gather strength. Exhales. Takes a tiny puff and―

"Argg," coughscoughscoughs "This is. Ugh. It's awful. I don't know how you―” almost throws the cigarette back to him "Ufff, what a―" he hesitates "Yuck"

Billy snorts. Thinks about Max inhaling deep, no more than two weeks ago, eyes pining his in place. Breaking into a violent cough only a second later.

Billy pats Will’s back too.

“That’s good” he says “You better not like it” Will scrunches his whole face “And this too” Billy adds, shaking the drawing a little “This is good, too. Amazingly good, man”

Will. Stares. At him. One. Two. Three long seconds. And Billy hurts a little. With every single one. Three sharp stabs with that newly freed sword. A different kind of ' you care' each one: 'it seems so impossible to me (that you care)'. 'If you think so, maybe it's true (and I do care, that you think it)’. 'Thank you (for caring)'. And then. Those hidden eyebrows. Will’s cheeks puffing out a little when he bites the tip of his tongue and―

"Billy?" his eyes glint, heavy with ill-contained malice.

"Uh?"

"You're the dragon"

"You fucking ass―!"

Billy shoves him sideways. But Will just sways. He doesn't lose footing on that firm ground he’s standing on. Looks back at the drawing, hunches a shoulder up.

"But you’re the knight, too"

He says it in a tone that cuts straight through Billy’s chest Thank you he thinks, even though his soft skin is hurting. And he still doesn't blow hard on that bowl fringe from where it covers Will’s whole forehead but―

Stirs up all his hair instead.

“Eh!!”

“Hey, shitbird. Wanna see the one I’ve made?”

Will nods quickly. All contained-speed and reverberating and sometimes Billy doesn't know how so few people can see it, how big he is for his own skin and he thinks I wish, wish he'd accumulate enough grains of sand to raise up that firm ground under his feet, and get really, really high.

“Sure!”

He keeps it tucked away in the breast pocket of his jacket. Folded in upon itself. Same way he keeps everything else. Folds and layers and at the bottom of pockets no one ever looks at but.

He unfolds it to show it to Will Byers.

“Wow” Will says, and smiles up at Billy like Two months since we crashed against each other and I feel like I know you a little too, Billy Hargrove and Billy hit rock bottom but now at least Max and him sing AC/DC in chorus on the rides back home and Will's voice sounds like 'You're good' as he runs his fingertips over the graphite outlines of the skull and repeats, "Wow"

“Gonna have it done” Billy inhales a deep drag of Marlboro and 'Four Months to Eighteen' and for a moment it’s like he could feel the smoke curl up inside his lungs before blowing it out. The image is as pretty as it’s stupid. He glances at the open jaw of the drawing and thinks maybe he'd like a drag too "Have it healed for summer and―"

“What’s happening here?”

Steve.

Harrington.

Hand on his hips, preppy pastel polo lapels up, Ray-Bans holding up that way his hair swirls without really taming it. The twelve o'clock sun is shining sideways from his back and he's pretty. Painfully pretty. And Billy’s sure it's impossible that this redneck raised on corn and money amassed in dubious moral business is the most beautiful thing he's ever seen but sometimes he forgets. That it is impossible because. Fuck. It so seems like it. Light flicking on the ends of his hair where it curls. Under his ear. In the long curve of his neck. And the world doesn't halt and the birds don't stop chirping and the clouds don't part and no preternatural shit happens because this is the black hole where all the world's shit goes, Indiana. But. It so seems like it and,

Billy.

Knew how to breathe but that’s another thing he keeps on forgetting. Every time Steve Harrington passes him by.

He’s gotta force himself. To nod. To stop choking. When Will looks up at him with those big eyes. Questioning.

Apologizing.

Billy Hargrove, from freshly crowned local terror to―

“I was―” Will starts. Inhales. Presses his lips together right before blurting out the truth ‘cause he knows it's the only real way out "Showing Billy my drawings. Sometimes we―"

―the softie whose pride goes high up in his throat every time an eleven-year-old kid says 'Billy, this is good. It's very. Very good, Billy’.

"Sometimes we. Uhm. We―"

Will's already huge eyes get bigger, rounder. As if he’s just realizing that where he's stuck his foot keeps getting muddier, trapping himself all the way in. And Billy smiles lightly at him, sideways, so it’s hidden. From Steve Harrington. From all the world beyond. ‘Cause of that thing about facades and how hard they’re to maintain, when on one side is pressing what you're supposed to be and on the other, relentlessly, what you're hiding.

But Steve’s asking,

“Sometimes―what?” and Will’s eyes are fixed on Billy, two wide-open I’m sorrys and Billy thinks Fuck it, Hargrove. C’mon. Stop hiding.

So he’s the one who says,

“We share our drawings, Harrington”

And Steve.

He’s got those eyes.

They're like a troubled ocean in the heart of winter, those eyes. Hard, hard, hard. Imposing. But soft. So fucking soft. When something catches him off guard. Rolling stones in the breaker. And Billy wants to get swept up in them, like falling along the curve of a wave. Steve looks at him, and at the drawing in his hand, his eyes a swirl and, when he looks up, the calm. And Billy feels as those times when it seemed to him the waves wanted. To wrap around him. To catch him. Soft as the reflecting clouds. And Billy feels as those times when he’d let them. Carry him. Drag him to the shore. Safe and sound.

“Is that yours?” Steve frowns. When he does that. He looks the prettiest. And Billy's heart breaks. In tiny tiny pieces. Thinks This is what it takes, thinks Fuck, thinks, This is how things hurt when you let your skin get soft.

What you don’t have. What you want. What you could―

Fuck.

What you could love so bad you'd rip your own skin off, so they could touch your heart right with their own hands.

Billy nods. Will smiles. Steve’s frown softens and― waveswaveswaves. On an autumn morning. Waves lapping at the surface of an ocean of calm.

And now. Billy sings AC/DC with Max. His heart taking on water when his voice falls off-key and she clutches at her lungs, choking on laughter. Now, he sits in the back of an old shack halfway between who he is and who he should be and so, so very carefully turns at the pages of Will Byers' sketchbook.

And Billy Hargrove hit rock bottom one day in late October. Hit rock bottom and beat into pulp that pretty face he can't stop seeing in his dream. When he's asleep. When he's awake. Hit rock bottom and that's where he's going to stay. It's either that. Or risk coming up to the wrong surface. And it's easier, here at the bottom. Easier to see what matters, when you look up.

Here, Billy takes a breath. Deep. Deeper. Holds onto that air so he has something keeping him alive underwater when Steve snatches the drawing off his hands. Studies it carefully. Says,

"It's―Uhm. Well―" Grins "It's not. Beautiful. Like, conventionally." He eyes cut back to Billy and something in them breaks into whitewater, into that softness he can't help, as if everything else is as much of a lie as 'Billy Hargrove' and all those imaginary walls "But―"

He says ‘But’ and then. The bell goes off.

"Oh!" Will bounces on the spot "I have to―" he yanks the backpack shut "Class!"

He takes off. Running. Turning around right before the corner of the shack to wave at them, flashing one of those smiles Billy has involuntarily categorized as 'the good ones', wide and already almost panting again, before disappearing at the speed of light towards school and to, Billy hopes, be one of those few kids who are still going to be laughing just as hard, just as happy, a few years down the road. If they’re lucky.

(If Billy’s lucky)

Steve Harrington is still there, planted in front of him when the alarm stops.

"Can I bump one of those?" he asks, chin pointing to the smoke Billy's squeezing between his fingers. In the drift of his hair the Ray-Bans stay afloat, capsizing.

Billy bangs the base of the pack against his thigh, pops out a cigarette. Offers it to him. Scrapes his thumb along the wheel when Steve takes it to his lips, leaning forward and― It's broad daylight but in the thin glow of the flame it almost feels like it’s that exact instant when the world begins to fade, darkness turning wide-open spaces into narrow little universes: Steve Harrington and his red lips around the smoke and a small ache in the pad of Billy's thumb from keeping alive the fire and from wanting things with a bigger kind of ache, his heart cauterizing from holding inside the rage of knowing he's never, ever going to have them but―

"But?" Billy asks.

Steve grabs his wrist. Hollows out his cheeks. Inhales deep. Takes him a moment when he pulls away. To let go. Long enough that his fingers could read the way Billy's pulse is raging in his wrist, if he wanted to.

“But” And he’s smiling. Lopsided. He slips into Will's seat and stretches his neck toward the sky. Prolongs the wait. Exhales. "It's cute."

And then his gaze cuts down and he’s searching for him, with those eyes of his. For Billy, who can never stop looking at him so, when he finds him, finds him looking back already.

And Billy―

Billy.

"Cute?"

Billy. Blinks. His hand stops halfway from getting his own cigarette to his mouth. Stops his heart and it feels like time’s stopping too, in this narrowness Steve's presence has reduced the moment into. And he’s smiling big now. His eyes soft. Soft. So fucking soft. And Billy thinks,

You're getting soft too, Billy Hargrove. You want to let him shred off your skin, when Steve says,

"You," snorting a soft laugh, sun melting in his eyes like honey "With Will. Drawing."

Billy wants him to never stop looking at him like that. Wants to lean in, and kiss him.

"Shut up and smoke your fucking cigarette, Harrington" he growls.

And Steve rolls his eyes in a way that screams 'Gotcha, Hargrove', but leans his back against the peeling wood of the shack.

And does as he’s told.

(Next Tuesday, it's not just Will who shows up, when the bell starts ringing)

.

.

i just finished translating this and, since i had originally written this part as and stand-alone thing. here it is. idk if it's worth the work of translating it whole, or if i really feel like it but, we'll see!. i've been at war with life and writing this past few weeks but i've been missing you so much, fandom <3<3<3. hope you've been doing well.

also billy + will + drawing is one of my fav hcs and there are a few tiny things more that i wanna write? hopefully i will 🌟

[spidernerdsblog]

Match made in Hell : Chapter Three

A/N : Chapter three is here. Survival of the fittest this is how life evolved on earth. And to survive you have to learn to adapt even if you have to make truce with people you hate. Hope you like this chapter. Let me know what you think.

A Happy New year to all of you lovely peeps! 💖💖

Pairing : Mob! Tom Holland x Reader

Summary : you always wanted a simple life but to be born as the daughter of a dangerous mobster turned out to be a curse for you. Everything changes when your father gets your lover killed and forcefully marries you off to another mobster as a part of a deal. You hate your father and your husband the only thing you seek is now revenge. Will you ever be able to fall in love again or this burning hatred inside you will consume you?

Warnings : 18+,mature content, a little PMS drama, language, flashbacks in italics, slight nudity, suggestive themes.

Mini Playlist : Bad Things by Meiko

SERIES MASTERLIST

Complying to the note you take a quick scan of the room ensuring that you’re not being followed by anyone before making your way to the restrooms but instead of going inside you sidetracked to your left and stride your way to the staff exit door across the hall and sneaked outside continuing to walk down the dark alley. You stop when you see a large figure standing in the dark a few feet away from you.

"Y/N" the man speaks with a deep voice.

"Who are you?" You demand. The man walks out of the shadow and your face lit up as you saw his face illuminated by the street light. 

"William? Oh my god!" You rush to embrace him. William Marshal, your father's most trusted wing man and your mentor. All the knowledge you have raptured be it hand to hand to combat or gun fight he taught you all. 

"How are you my little tigress?" 

"Surviving" You say with a small smile. "But what are you doing here?" You were so surprised as well as happy to see him.

"Your father sent me here."

Your brows draw into a frown ''Daddy sent you?...But why?"

"You are alone and boss thinks it's a little dangerous to leave you in the enemy territory on your own" 

You scoff. "Huh, since when did he start worrying about my safety?" 

"He wants me to help you with your task, so how much progress have you made?" He asks.

"Actually William there has been some changes in the plan” You say. “I’m no more playing daddy’s little killing puppet" 

William gives you shocked look. "What, are you planning to backstab your father?" 

''Not literally stab him though I wish I could heh. But I'm gonna make him pay for his crimes by turning him in and then let the law decide his punishment."

"You want to go on a legal battle with the king of illegal trades?” He chuckles lightly at your childish idea. “You're bluffing right?"

"I'm not bluffing Will. I just want to deliver justice to all the people who have suffered for him without anymore bloodshed. And I’m not ruthless like him and at the end of the day he's still my daddy so even if I want I will never be able to kill him" You sigh with remorse. 

"It's a suicide mission Y/N, you can't win against him, not alone"

"Well Rome wasn't built in one day, Will. Plus I have you."

His face went stoic. "I can't betray your father Y/N." 

"Will, how could you forget that this man killed your whole family? He didn't even spare your five year old daughter. Don't you want revenge?" You tried your best to persuade him. 

"That man died when he accepted his allegiance."

"Then here's your another chance to avenge your family. Are you going to help me or not?" You ask him firmly.

"You know I have always seen you no less than my daughter" He reaches out a hand cupping the side of your face "so what does my daughter want me to do?" 

The corner of lips turn up into a smile. "Nothing much for now I just want you to pose as a double agent, provide me all the information and report back to daddy whatever I exactly say to you" You explained. 

William nods in agreement to your plan. "So have the Holland's agreed to this?"

"Holland's?" You frown. "Why on earth would I involve them? They are no less evil."

"You are plotting against your dad the mafia kingpin and you need allies Y/N."

"I don't need any allies…" You pause mid sentence as it finally hits you what Will was actually trying to imply. You narrowed your eyes with a sly smirk "Unless I rat them out against each other and they end up destroying each other in the process without anyone suspecting it was me behind all this. Like this I can hit two birds with one stone"

"Well now you're getting it." William says proudly. 

"By the way boss told me to give you this." He holds out a revolver, you stiffen at it’s sight.

"That's my gun" You swallow hard.

"Yes indeed it is." 

"I can't take it Will and you know why" You say anxiously.

"I know that the past haunts you Y/N but that phase is over. You have to let go" He takes your hand and places the gun. "Keep it, you'll need it" Your palms were sweaty as you gripped on to the gun and looked at it intently. 

"I think you should go back now before your husband gets suspicious and remember.." 

You cut him off before he could finish. 

"To be nice and call in a truce. Trust me I got this." You winked with a sly grin and rushed back to the hall through the backdoor but you are met with an obstacle. Tom was standing right in front of the restrooms, you quickly retreated behind the wall.

"Shit! Why are men so clingy?!" You groan with slight irritation when your phone lights up

T : Hey you okay? You're in for too long. 

T : Y/N???!! 

You roll your eyes as you text him back. 

Y : No I'm not okay!!! 

Concern clouded his features whilst he texted you back.

T : Hey what's wrong? 

T : Darling, you alright? 

You couldn't think of any valid reason to get past him so you had to swallow your pride and texted back with the most safest and believable excuse for a woman. 

Y : I'm PMSing!!!  T : ….OK. 

You peered to see his reaction and you swear you would have burst out laughing if you weren’t in such a sophisticated place, the look on his face clearly showed how weirded out he was. 

Tom on the other hand was clueless about what to reply next, since a young age he has been dealing with the most dangerous people from the underworld but never in his life he had to deal with someone pmsing specifically he never had to deal with you. Though he had a little knowledge about these things thanks to sex ed at high school. You saw him take a deep breath before typing. 

T: You need something? 

Y: Yeah, will a tampon be too much to ask? 

Y: It's kind of urgent. 

T: Right on it. Just stay there. It will be fine, love. 

T: Do you need a change of dress? 

To be honest you were quite taken aback seeing this concerned and understanding side of his. 

Y: No, I'm fine. And please don't come barging in the ladies room. 

T: Yeah I know that. 

As soon as Tom moves away you quickly slip inside the restroom and heaved a sigh of relief. After a few minutes a middle aged woman walks in the restroom.

"You must be Y/N?" She asks with a smile.

"Yeah." You nod.

"Here you go, love." She hands you a tampon. You take it and go inside a stall. You wait for a few minutes before throwing the tampon in the dustbin and emerging out of the stall with a smile.

"Thank you so much." You say smoothening the slight creases on your dress.

"Oh don't be but I must say your husband really loves you. You should have looked at his face how freaked out he was."

"I really doubt the love part.'' You snicker, turning on the faucet in the basin to wash your hands.

"Well darling, here’s an advice from a lady to a lady keep your man happy and satisfied and then not only will he be showering you with all his love as well as—"  She coils her thick glimmering diamond necklace around her slim finger "might get these too."

"Well thank you for your advice but not a fan of leashes you see." You quip drying your hands with the paper towels.

"Trust me sweetie one day you will just want to wear these leashes only for your man." She steps closer putting a hand on your shoulder.

"Will see." You give a tight lipped smile.

After sometime you step out and find Tom patiently waiting for you.

"All good?" He asks, you nod in affirmation.

"It was lovely talking to you sweetheart. See you again." The woman chirps, you smiled waving at her.

Bad Things starts playing……. I know what I want And I'll get what I need I'll come over and I'll show you how Don't you wish that you can have me now?

"Shall we have this dance?" Tom held out his hand. You take it with a smile as he leads you to the center of the room. Your hands go to his shoulders while his hands rest on your hips. You slowly begin to sway your bodies to the music going back and forth, your eyes looking around to the other couples dancing. 

You say that you want all of my love But let's be honest we don't need all that I like it better with no strings attached

"You're welcome." Tom says, drawing your attention back to him.

"Uhh..." You look at him in confusion.

"I guess the words that you are looking for are thank you."

"To be fair it was kind of your duty to help your wife from an embarrassing situation." You quip.

"Oh now I'm your husband, huh?" He raises his eyebrows amused.

Good girls do bad things sometimes But we get by with it Good girls do bad things sometimes But we get by with it

"Well you have been rubbing the fact on my face since day one so—" You half shrug. 

"So what was Mrs. Sinclaire saying?" He asks looking around the room.

"Nothing of my interest just how I should get one of those shining collars around my neck." You roll your eyes dramatically.

"Those are gifts from their husbands who love them dearly, love" He corrects you, a smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

How much more can you take if I give you a taste I've been waiting for you all night long I come around and then I'm gone

"But for me those are glittering leashes" You retort.

"Darling, how much ever you pretend but under this tough shell you're just a hopeless romantic, you crave love and I can give you all of it only if you allow me." Tom laces his hand with yours another hand stays at the small of your back, waltzing to the music. 

You'll get yours, I'll get mine Then we run out of time You're the only one that I desire 'Cause I love to play with fire

"Maybe I'm that's why I still dream of a beautiful life away from all this from you" you say looking deep into his brown orbs.

He leans down to your ear and whispers. "I can assure you one thing princess the farther you want to go away from me the more I will pull you back towards me"

A shiver runs down your spine as his smile turns into a wide grin.

Good girls do bad things sometimes But we get by with it Good girls do bad things sometimes But we get by with it

His hand moved from your back to your lower waist and he dipped you low, taking you by surprise. You bent on your back as he pulled you back up with a force, throwing you against his body sending your body right into his broad frame.

Ooh (oh-oh-oh-oh-oh) Ooh (oh-oh-oh-oh-oh) When I'm down I let you know (ooh, oh-oh-oh-oh-oh) When I'm down I let you go (ooh, oh-oh-oh-oh-oh)

You stayed like that for a while, inhaling deeply but the only thing you could smell was him, his expensive cologne intoxicating your senses and then he pushed you back again, spinning you around twice and settling back for the previous slow pace. 

Good girls do bad things sometimes But we get by with it Good girls do bad things sometimes But we get by with it (oh-oh-oh-oh-oh)

The night ends and you are now back at home sitting on your bed busy with your night routine rubbing on some body lotion on your hands as Tom walks in.

"What are you doing in my room?" You frown.

"Technically this is my room" He reminds you rummaging through his closet.

"Not anymore." You state haughtily. He plainly ignores you and goes inside the bathroom. 

After a while he comes out with a towel wrapped lowly around his waist, his wet curls sticking to his forehead. You couldn’t help but admire his chiseled upper body, muscles rippling and glistening in the soft golden light of the room.

"You’re staring" He sing-songs, smirking cockily.

"No-no, I'm not'' You fumble. 

"It's ok, darling I'm all yours to look at" You roll your eyes meanwhile he takes off his towel and throws it in the hamper before getting on the empty side of the bed just in his black calvin klein boxers.

"Whoa, you are gonna just wear that?" You ask in surprise. 

"Why you gotta problem?" He smirks while getting inside the covers. 

"No seriously, you’re either fully covered or almost naked. Nothing in between." You remark giving him an annoyed look.

"Why does it turn you on babygirl?" He says with a sultry voice. 

"Shut up and stop with these weirdass names, will ya" You grimace as he chuckles.

"And what about you? You are going to sleep in that?" He points out looking at your sleep shorts and a loose shirt. 

"Well you may think of yourself as a calvin klein's model but I ain't a Victoria’s secret angel. So yes I’m gonna sleep in these" 

"But your Instagram says something else" He quips, making you smile mischievously.

"Aww did someone get all riled up at work?” You click your tongue pouting “so sad." 

Tom all of a sudden grabs your arm pulling you down to him as you jolt down surprised.

"And for that you deserve a nice spanking" His voice low, a cocky grin plastered on his face.

"If you touch me I'll chop off your hands." You threaten with a cold stare and pull out your arm from his grip. You lay down turning to your side and snatched away the covers from him.

"Oi! blanket hogger!" He protests, pulling the blanket back.

"Get out of here!" You kicked his leg playfully snatching the cover again.

"Y/N I swear to God I’ll push you off the bed!" He says laughing.

"Shut up you whiny baby." You retort laughing as well.

He moves closer to you bringing his hands to tickle you on the side of your hips. You squealed trying to push him away but he tightened his hold around you both laughing like kids when suddenly you realized how close you were the heat from his bare body felt like burning against your skin. 

What are you doing? You hate this guy, he is the reason Ethan is dead. You remind yourself gaining back your composure and stopped laughing. You went silent closing your eyes as Tom got the hint and backed off.

You soon fell asleep breathing softly but Tom was still awake staring at the ceiling thinking about all the meetings and deals he has to make tomorrow when you shifted on the bed and turned to Tom’s side in your sleep. You subconsciously hiked a leg above his placing your hand over his chest snuggling close to him. 

Tom found it really amusing chuckling softly as he took his time to admire how beautiful and innocent you looked. He went to wrap his arm around you just then he heard you mumbling in your sleep. 

"I'm sorry - I'm so sorry Ethan." His expression goes hard. He retracts his hand away placing it under his head and lets out an exasperated sigh before closing his eyes to sleep.

Next morning you squint your eyes open to find yourself practically laying over Tom's chest, you sit up hastily waking him up in the process. 

"Good morning, princess." He says with a groggy voice. You look at him timidly. 

"By the drool I’m assuming you slept well." You frown rubbing the corner of your mouth with the back of your hand. 

"So much for chopping my hands eh?" He snickers. "But what about you taking advantage of me while sleeping." you felt your face heat up in embarrassment.

"Sorry I used to have a side pillow when I slept."

"Oh it's ok, love. I'm honored to be your human side pillow.'' he says cockily before getting off the bed to get ready for the day. 

"Dickhead" You mutter under your breath.

****

 You went to punch his chest, but William blocked it

"As a devout feminist, I refuse to say that you hit like a girl." William quipped letting go of you, and you spin around in frustration

"Let's try this again, shall we?" 

"Tell me again why I have to learn self defense this early in the morning." 

William began to roll up his sleeves to better move around "You are my  responsibility." 

You smiled "...says the feminist." William chuckled. 

"Fighting is rhythm. There is a music, there is a meter, there is a pattern. Let that rhythm beat within you." He stood defensively and nods at you. 

"Again." you put up your fists and start to fight him, but he easily blocks your blows. You two spin and continued practicing. You struck him again but he blocks it. 

"Legato" You strike again with increased force,

"Ostinato" You strike back with all your force. 

"Crescendo" You managed to hit him, but he blocked the majority of it and held you by your neck. 

"And then, once you've established your cadence--" You spun out of his grip, kicking him, and pressed him against the wall while he's distracted. 

" --You change the key." you said smiling proudly. 

 "Very nice." He said a little out of breath. "But none of this matters if you cannot make the kill." 

"But I don't want to kill anyone." 

"You will. To survive" He said.

You stepped back to catch your breath from the intense workout.

"Now c’mon we will learn something new today." He brought two wooden staff and throws one at you out of the blue which you barely catch.

"Hey! I wasn't ready!" You protested. 

"First lesson-- always be on your guard." He instructed. You took note of the weight of the staff in your hands for a moment.

"It's heavy." 

"I was half your age the first time my father gave me the staff. I would have torn every muscle rather than let him see me strain. And, had I--" He attacked you, you barely blocked his blow "-- he would have corrected me." 

"No offense, but your dad sounds like a jerkwad" You panted. 

"Mothers love their children. Fathers make them strong" He attacked you again, and though you struggle to keep up, you manage to continue blocking him.

"Well in my case my daddy doesn't care 'cause he already kind of bidded me off in a stupid deal--" You started to fight back  "-- and my mother is quite ardent to make me strong enough to face anything what is to come my way" You grunt while attacking but William easily dodges your strikes.

"You're anticipating. Do not let me see your move before you make it." He strikes at your staff, knocking you off-balance and causing you to twist your ankle as you fall and whimper in pain

"Get up." He commanded.

"I can't, my ankle hurts." You groaned.

"The ability to end your pain is a warrior's true weapon. Master that, and nothing holds power over you." You glared at him. 

"Now, on your feet." You winced. 

"I said, On. Your. Feet." He barked.

You continued to glare at him, but do grab your staff to use it to help you to pull yourself up on your feet. You leaned against the staff for support. William looked mildly impressed.

"Good. Perhaps you've actually learned something today." 

It’s been almost two weeks since the gala night William has been in contact with you providing you with valuable information. You were lost in your thoughts when your phone buzzed and you were broken out of your daze. It was William, you received the call. 

"Hey Will!" 

"Got some news." 

"Seems like Victor has grabbed quite a hold in the European drug cartel. He has been making quite some big deals." 

"Daddy is making deals with the European drug mafias?" You were surprised at this news. "But how is that possible? As much I know he planned to oust the Hollands off their turf first before taking over their business." 

"Working with your dad I have learnt one thing about him, ‘compartmentalization’ nobody gets to know about his real plans. And that is the reason behind his success." 

"I think I know someone who might give me more info on that. But the most important question is who is doing all the dirty work for him while he is sitting in NY." 

"A new gang has emerged in the city ‘the vipers’ but I’m surprised that the Holland’s didn’t happen to come across them yet." He says before ending the call.

Meanwhile Tom was at the docks of the London port accompanied by his brother Harry for a meeting with an old time ally.

"Gomez, after a long time mate." 

"Yeah Holland business has been a little rough these days"

"So my brother tells me that you wanted some negotiations to be done with the current revenue arrangement of the port area"

"Yes Holland about that you see you're charging an outrageously high protection money and for that I am having very little profit from my drug trafficking business" 

"Well mate protecting you from the cops and allowing you to smuggle through my port comes with a high price I told you at the beginning only." Tom says.

"Then I might have to rethink our alliance, Holland."

"You mean you want to call off the deal?" Tom raises his eyebrows.

"Yes you guessed it right" 

"That's really brave of you given that the narcotics are already suspicious about your activities" Tom mocks with a sinister look in his eyes.

"I'll take my chances and there's this new gang who are ready to provide protection at a much cheaper rate plus they are going to help me expand my trade to the States. And profit has always been my first priority mate." Gomez states.

"Well whatever suits you mate but the port is still under my control if I may remind you so perhaps you should start watching your back" Tom advises, malice in his voice and then he storms out of the place.

****

You have finally decided to have a night out and blow off some steam. You dressed up in a slip dress and put on your matching stilettos. Booking yourself an uber you were just about to go down the stairs when you heard some heated argument coming from the office though it was mostly Tom’s voice you heard and by the tone you deduced he was very angry. 

You slowly made your way towards the room to see Tom standing in the middle of the room with Harrison and Harry beside him, his men surrounding him as he yells at them. They were so engrossed into the meeting that nobody bothered to notice you standing so you quietly lean against the doorframe and listened to their conversation.

"I'm paying a bunch of assholes for nothing!" Tom barks. 

"Tom, calm down." Harry goes to tone down his brother.

"How can I calm down?! Some bloody newbie gang has been operating right under my nose! on my turf! and I have no news about that." He snaps.

You couldn’t help but the whole conversation made you chuckle a little too loudly drawing everyone’s attention present in the room. Tom was already seeing red with his business going into jeopardy and seeing you laugh like that he went ballistic. 

"Does something here appear funny to you?" He glares at you.

"Well funny things do." You retort.

"And may I have the pleasure of knowing what you found so funny?"

"Well seeing you guys all worked up about this whole new emerging gang snatching away your territory. I really feel pity for you."

"Thank you for your pity now you may leave, anyways women are not allowed here. I should not see you snooping around in the future near this room." He orders.

"Your loss I might know something that could have helped you in solving your little problem." You shrug and turn to leave. 

"Wait! What do you mean?" 

"Well I guess women don’t do business here so I better keep my mouth shut." You taunt agitating him even more.

"Stop fucking with me Y/N! If you know something then tell me." You pucker your face pretending to think. 

"Please" he adds softening down a bit, you sigh audibly.

"Ok then let me give you a heads up. The viper gang which is hampering your business deals is owned by none other than Victor Martinez aka my daddy dearest." Tom's eyes went wide as well as Harrison's and Harry's. 

"What! You’re kidding right?" You scrunch your nose shaking your head sideways dismissively.

"But-but we had a deal!" He was still in disbelief.

"Honey you made a deal with the devil. What did you expect?" Tom crosses the room in three strides and grabs hold your arm with a death grip anger raging in his eyes.

"Leave my hand, Tom! You’re hurting me!" You struggle twisting your arm. He slightly loosens his grip but still holds on to you. 

"What more do you know? What have you father-daughter planned behind this whole wedding facade?!" He spat gritting through his teeth.

"Hey don't go all out on me! I myself didn't know about this until today. He never told me about this secret gang." 

He scoffs, raising his eyebrows. "And you want me to believe that?" 

"It’s up to you if you want to believe or not but if I would be plotting against you why would I even care to tell you all this?" You pull your hand away "--and this growing hatred inside you I have thousands of times more of that hatred inside me for him" you seethe.

"Then what was the meaning of the whole deal?" 

"Well he wanted me to lure you and trick you into writing everything you own including your business to my name and then kill you." Tom is left speechless with your revelation.

"What? Feel the bitter taste of betrayal?" You smirk. "Now you’ll understand what I felt." 

"Okay then you guys have fun working out your plan on going against your new enemy while I enjoy my night with some music and drinks." You chirp enthusiastically.

"Now where are you going so late?" Tom sounded tired.

"None of your business" 

"Anthony, Michael go with her" He orders two of his men.

"No need, my uber is already waiting outside" saying so you left.

Reaching the club you order some drinks for yourself. You sit on the seat near the counter enjoying the ambience as the bartender hands you a martini. Though it wasn’t like the rave parties you had in NY but you really felt relaxed finally out by yourself after being trapped in that house for two weeks after your wedding which felt like ages. 

"You're Y/N right?" You look up to your side to find the red head girl from yesterday.

"And you're the hooker" You quip and she chuckles.

"Yeah I am, it's Sandy by the way." She takes seat beside you. "So where’s your husband?" 

"Probably still shouting at his men." You shrug, taking a sip of your drink.

"Not to be prying but what's the deal between you two? It looks like you hate each other's guts"

"Don’t know about him but I definitely do, perhaps after tonight he might start hating me too." 

"Then why the hell did you get married?" 

"Well honey things don't work like that in the mob. A wedding is just a strategic alliance between two families for their own mutual benefits. We just serve as scapegoats, our fates were sealed together the day we were born" You explain. 

"Well that’s some really messed up shit" She sympathizes. 

"I know." 

"But you can still work it out. You know he isn’t that bad, at least not in bed" She grins cheekily. 

"Okay I didn’t need to know that" You chuckle sarcastically. 

"You’re really missing a good dick girl, that you can have any time you want and all your life." 

"Do I look like a nymphomaniac?’’ You laugh ‘‘-and no doubt he is a dick. He is the reason my innocent boyfriend is dead, I’m stuck here in this stupid marriage and instead of apologizing what does he do? He brings in girls, acting like a slut" You rant.

"You're bothered aren't you?" 

"No, why would I be bothered with whom he sleeps?" You stand up from your seat stumbling a little already feeling tipsy.

"-- you know what I'm gonna enjoy today, get drunk and dance my sorrows away." "Everyone in the house tonight’s drinks are on me! Enjoy the free booze!" You screamed. The whole crowd whooped and whistled.

"To my fucked up life!" You shouted, downing a shot. 

You made your way to the center of the dance floor and started dancing without any worry about tomorrow. Within seconds you felt two hands around your hips, you turn your head to find a cute boy probably of your age as you continued to dance and grind against him. After a couple of songs you went back to the counter and had some more drinks. You were totally wasted as your vision went blurry and pretty soon everything blacked out.

It feels like a struggle for you to open your eyes as you stir inside the covers. Huh? You squint your eyes open and realize you were actually lying in a bed. You slowly sat up, your head was pounding with last night’s hangover as you groaned holding your head. Your eyes slowly adjusts to your surroundings and you realize that you were indeed back home and in your bedroom. You look down at your body and were shocked to find yourself in just your black strapless bra and underwear.

"You’re up at last." You hurriedly pull the covers up to your chest hearing Tom’s voice. 

He walks in a pair of grey sweatpants and a tightly fitted black t-shirt, his biceps bulging out of it. It was really odd to see him in such an informal attire but he looks good, you slapped yourself internally for the last thought.

"What happened last night? How did I get here? And where are my clothes?!" You badgered him with questions.

"Woah slow down, that's a lot of questions at one go and you should be the first one explaining about your reckless behavior last night."

"Why, what did I do?" You frown.

"Oh you really went wild last night. For starters you danced with random blokes and then you drank more and got wasted. And then you took off your dress whilst those drunk bastards did body shots." Your mouth falls agape in shock.

"Wait what? I took off my dress in public?!" You were still in disbelief.

"Yeah and that’s not all” He says with a scoff “You let those twats lick salt and lemon off your body while they did shots. Thanks to Sandy who informed me on time." You rolled your eyes looking away. 

"After seeing you being used for body shots things got a little nasty out there and they had to close early."

"What did you do?" You ask anxiously. 

"That any man would do seeing his wife being touched by other men." He growls the last bit.

"What do you mean?" 

"I made sure they will be in the hospital for a good couple of months." He states rather proudly. 

You slap your forehead shaking your head in annoyance. You didn't realize that you had let go off the sheets covering your body giving Tom quite a view which he had missed the other day. 

He slowly leans forward, eyeing you up and down lustfully prompting you to back off until your back touched the head board. He crawls towards you further hovering over you reaching his hand out to cup your face.

"You really upset me yesterday Y/N." His voice low as his hand brushes your hair from your shoulder and travels downs to your chest fingertips gently brushing over your rib cage down to the valley of your breasts slightly tugging to the soft material of your bra. You caught hold of his hand to stop him from going down further, he smirks. 

"Funny how you allow strangers to touch you, but not me, your husband who has the only right to do it." You kicked his crotch but not too hard. 

"Bloody hell!!" He groaned as you tackled him down bringing yourself on top straddling him. You were far gone from feeling self conscious, sitting on top of him in just your undergarments. 

"Well the thing is I don't take you as my husband." You sneer narrowing your eyes. "And the last time I checked, you don't trust me." 

"Well I never trusted you on the first place and you proved it last night quite nicely for the reason why” He says. “but honey I'm not letting you go so easily."

"After a lot of thought I actually think you could be a perfect leverage for me" He then goes to press his hand to your lower stomach "Moreover if you were with my child I guess grandpa Victor will certainly agree to some negotiations" He ticked his jaw with a devilish grin. You flare your nostrils fuming at his audacity. 

"I would rather be barren than let you father my child and give him/her this cursed life." You seeth. Tom seemed a little hurt by your words of how you think he's going to be a terrible father but he masked it with his usual cocky self. 

"Truth be told princess I love to be on top and in control but for a change you really look so pretty on top, can't imagine how beautiful you'll look while you ride my dick" He says tracing your jawline with his fingers. You swat his hand away. 

"You're such a piece of shit!" You snap getting off him. He gets up chuckling and leaves the room as you quickly get off the bed and run to the bathroom. 

Undressing yourself from the leftover clothes you ran a warm shower, the warm water quickly relaxing your muscles. You smelt of sweat, alcohol and cigarettes which made you feel dirty. You squirted some body wash and lathered your body with it before washing it off. Then you washed your hair with shampoo. 

You take your time before drying yourself off and walk out of the bathroom busy fixing your towel and bumped into Tom. His large hands held your arms steadying you meanwhile your towel loosens and falls off your body. You both looked at each other in shock. 

Tom stands there like a statue gaping at you, eyes lingering from top to bottom of your exposed body; ‘man you have a goddess like body’ he thought as beads of water trickled down your wet hair. You finally come back to your senses then it suddenly hit you that you were standing completely naked. 

"What the fuck!! Tom close your eyes!!!" You shriek out quickly bending down to grab the towel and cover yourself. Hearing you scream Harrison came barging in your room. 

"What happened mate?" Out of instinct Tom lunges forward and embraces you tightly blocking you from anyone's view.

"Harrison! Get the fuck out of here!" 

"Oh I'm sorry bruh. Didn't know you were busy." He cackles turning around. Some of his other men also came rushing in thinking something happened, leading to a total chaotic situation in the room. 

"Yes, who else is left to join the party you are cordially invited!" You yell frustrated. 

Tom is still guarding you as he yells sharply. "Get out of here you bloody morons!" 

When everyone is finally out of the room Tom steps back as you stand at your place clutching on to your towel, both of you looking away from each other. After a few awkward moments of silence Tom finally speaks up. 

"That was quite a spectacular view, you have kept things quite perked up I see." He says playfully. And that was enough to get on your nerves. 

"You!!!" You glower taking the vase you found near you in your hand to hurl it at him. He steps back a little, raising his hands defensively. 

"Careful love! That cost me thousands of dollars, though I don't have any shortage of money but still don't want a lovely art to go to waste just to appease your anger on your piece of shit husband" He snickers breaking into a laugh and runs out of the room leaving you fuming. 

"Son of a bitch! Uggh!!" You stomp your feet keeping back the vase at its place. Your phone dinged and you went to check, it was a message from William. 

W : Good news

..................................................................

Taglist in bio or send an ask/dm I’ll add you

[mrs-march-ahs]

Kai Taking Care Of You In Prison (2)

Taking Care of Kai in Prison (Part 1) is here, if you want to read it first! You don’t have to as the two don’t link that closely, but it’s of course recommended!

Summary- Kai finds it unfair that you have been conditioned to do everything yourself, so he helps take some weight of your shoulders, and makes an interesting promise for next time. 

Warnings- Not much. Really really dirty. I mean, really dirty. Words- 2.2k

Enjoy! :)

----

Picking up a letter from the reception, you walk to Kai Anderson’s cell in the High Security wing. Since everything given to all the prisoners is checked prior, the letter is already open, so you push your finger inside the envelope and peel it back slightly, only to see a letter from Elite Genetics, with a small table saying Kai’s name and surname under “Alleged Father” and in the next column, 0%.

You take your hand out of the letter and take a deep breath at the bad news Kai is clearly going to receive. He had a habit of getting violent with other prisoners, only having not committed murder already because he’s on thin ice with the death penalty. When you buzz into the building and walk down the corridor towards with his cell at the very end, you tap the letter against your leg rhythmically, trying to hide and contain the slight excitement and arousal you feel from just being in his proximity. You were one of the toughest guards in this prison and you were not going to ruin your reputation and the respect the inmates had for you just because of one man, so you had to brace yourself.

You walk right into his cell and silently sit down opposite him. When Kai puts his elbow up on the table and straightens his pinky out, you fold the letter in half quickly and push it into your pocket to give him later. You link your finger with his and look him in the eye, desperate to hear what question has been floating around his head like a Windows screensaver. Since he sits in his cell for a vast majority of his day, he has nothing but time to think about you and ponder what he is yet to know about you. Honestly? There wasn’t much left.

“What one feeling fills you with dread?”, he asks. Your answers were meant to be as honest as possible, so you reply with the first thing that comes to your mind. Something that makes your stomach churn.

“Having to rely on other people, there was nothing I hated more in school that group projects”, you say with an almost disgusted expression. “I hate when people try to intervene when they don’t need to, I’ve always taken care of myself, I have to do everything for myself and I’m used to it, I know myself the best”

As always during your pinky power therapy sessions, you feel a slight relief after getting that out of you. Ironically enough, letting your emotions out and passing the weight over to Kai felt orgasmic, completely different than trying to deal with it yourself.

“It isn’t fair, is it?”

“No, just because you’re incapable of doing something yourself doesn’t mean I am”

“No”, Kai latches on straight after. “It isn’t fair that a woman like you should have to do everything herself, the world needs to stop being useless and learn how to help you”

You nod once in agreement, not sure how to interpret what he’s saying.

“Sit here”, Kai says before unlinking his finger from yours and patting the table in front of him. You hesitantly stand up and sit on the edge of the table, only for Kai to put his strong tattooed arms on your thighs and pull you closer to him. When you’re parallel to him, with your feet on his legs, he hums in approval and puts his hands behind you to pull your pants down, to which you comply. You lift yourself up off the table gently and he pulls your pants down, but leaves your bright red panties on, dropping your pants to the floor. When his eyes meet your underwear, he takes a big breath and slides his hands between your thighs, and tries to spread them.

“Let me do this for you”

He spreads your legs and takes a long look at your wettened underwear, before sitting back in his chair. You begin to get impatient as he simply sits and looks at your body, but finally when he looks deep into your eyes, your heart starts beating even faster.

“Touch yourself”

You bite the inside of your cheek and looks down at your thighs, before sliding your hands over them and squeezing them. Usually, foreplay and getting yourself turned on is the hardest part of masturbating, and you especially had troubles since your first sexual encounter with Kai. He set the bar so high that nothing you did to yourself could compare to the heavenly but rough touch from your first meeting. It was tough to admit it, but all orgasms since then suffered in comparison to the one after Kai made you ride his thigh. When you went home and thought about the lustful and forbidden love he gave you, your fingers didn’t have to do much to bring you over the edge, and even though the touch was yours, the orgasm belonged to him.

You rub your middle finger up and down your panties, making it instantly glisten, and look at Kai, hoping for encouragement, instead seeing him watch you impatiently with furrowed eyebrows.

“Rub your clit”

Every word that came out of his mouth turned you on, but still you questioned him.

“I don’t like being told what to do”

“No. You don’t like help. That’s very different”

His serious face was hard to say no to, and even though you didn’t exactly understand what he meant or where he was going, you still complied, and moved your underwear to the side. You place your fingers on your clit and rub slow circles, getting visibly more aroused when Kai looks down and watches. Masturbating wasn’t new to you but the feeling of being watched turned you on more than anything ever before. Already wanting more, you rub a little faster, cautious whether Kai will allow you to take control of the pace of not. You bite your lip as you touch yourself, your wetness dripping down, and making you hold in moans.

When your thighs almost close, Kai places his hands on them and grabs them tightly, spreading them wide open to his view. This encourages you to rub faster and though you feel hot with the impending orgasm, you wish with your whole body that he would take over. Just as that thought pops into your mind, Kai speaks up and his dark voice draws you in.

“Put a finger in”

You continue rubbing and hesitantly shake your head.

“I don’t like fingering”. Kai snickers at your response.

“If you don’t like it, you must not be doing it right”

You bite down harder on your lip when you hear that, aching for Kai to touch you, but to your surprise, he doesn’t and simply watches.

“Of course, I’d be more than happy to help”, Kai stands up and leans closer to you.

“But you don’t allow help, do you?”. His cockiness makes you shiver, and you struggle becoming fully submissive to him. The idea of begging was below you. But Kai knew the effect he had on you, and stood there with his eyebrow raised, waiting for you to break. It wasn’t a matter of whether you would, it was a matter of when.

“I’ll allow it”. You whisper to him, making him chuckle.

“You’re not doing me a favour”

You stop touching yourself, the feeling in your stomach long gone, and look away, not being able to look someone, anyone, in the eye and beg for them to help you. The weakness in admitting you can’t do something as good as somebody else was too much for you, no matter how wet you were for Kai.

“Please”. The pathetic sound was almost inaudible, but still clearly loud enough for Kai, who was a mere few centimetres away, to hear. But Kai isn’t going to let a chance to hear you beg slide. He leans closer to your ear.

“What was that?”

You breathe in a hitched breath and Kai cups your cheek to force you to look at him. His other hand remains on your thigh rubbing ever so slowly, making you implode out of impatience, and inches closer to your inner thigh. The burning feeling of his touch not where you want it breaks you.

“Please touch me”

Kai smirks and leans in to kiss you, brushing his lips against yours, making you desperate.

“Say it again”

“Please touch me, I beg”

Finally pleased, Kai leans back, spreads your legs and brushes his thumb over your swollen clit, making you put your arm around his neck, already knowing the long-lasting effects his touch will undoubtedly have on you.

“If you don’t like it, you’re not doing it right”

With that said once again, he plunges two fingers inside of you, and points them up, making you gasp and instantly try to close your legs. You fight against it, knowing how far Kai will go to prove his dominance. But he still notices, and wraps your legs around his torso, unable to shut, and thrusts his stiff fingers in and out of you. You hiss at the feeling and put your head against his chest, becoming completely lax and letting him do to you whatever he pleases. He curls them up and thrusts them faster, inviting the previous unfinished orgasm to return. You find yourself on the edge embarrassingly quickly, and when he places his thumb over your clit once more, you whine against his chest, hoping for him to tell you when to let go.

He puts his head on top of yours and moans in satisfaction at you clench around his fingers. He fingers you faster, eventually leaning into your neck, and using one word to send your body into bliss.

“Now”

You cum on demand for him, but he doesn’t slow his fingers, digging around inside of you, scooping all the wetness you give him and shoving it in and back out of you. You shake your legs around him and he holds one in his arm with a tight possessive grip.

Not giving you much time to recover, he forces you to stand up and spins you around. You put your hands on the table in front of you, covered in release, and Kai puts his large hand on your back and pushes you down, making you bend over the table. You ignore the cum inches away from your face, completely focused on the impending fucking you’re about to receive, bent over the table.

“Clean it up”

You try to look over your shoulder at Kai, but he pushes your neck further into the table, right in front of the pool of cum you left. You’re left baffled by his actions and furrow your eyebrows, trying to find the words to say, assuming that, surely, he isn’t insinuating that-

“Lick it clean”

“I’m not gon-”

Kai leans into your neck and barks, “You made the mess, you’re gonna clean it up”

He looks at you with his hypnotizing black eyes and an angry expression, before tangling your hair between his fingers and gripping it tightly. You look up at him with pleading eyes, hoping to soften him up, before quickly accepting your fate, his eyes looking angrier by the second. Kai pulls your head up a little, holding his two fingers in front of your mouth. You open your mouth obediently, somehow not as grossed out by licking your cum off his fingers. He wriggles and thrusts his fingers in and out of your mouth, before slowly sliding them down, making you stick your tongue out to follow them.

He shoves your head into the table, cum immediately covering your tongue, and slides your head around. You squeeze your eyes shut tightly, wanting to get it over and done with, and Kai mops up the mess you made by your hair, while your tongue remains frozen in place. When you’re almost done, he pulls your head up and pushes your tongue back in your mouth, covering your lips with his hand afterwards until you swallow. Which you do, almost instantly, avoiding as much of the taste as you can. He slowly lets go of your hair and smiles at your actions, while you straighten yourself out and look at him completely humiliated.

Kai nods towards your pants on the floor, and you pick them up and put them back on, looking the other direction. But Kai watches you get dressed, smiling at any negative feelings you may have. When you zip your pants up and run your hands down them to flatten them, Kai walks over to you and breathes into your neck.

“Maybe I can have a taste next time”

His words make your knees weak, and you nod at him, before promptly walking out of his cell and locking it.

Though the humiliation stays with you for the rest of the day, his words do too. The mental image lingers in your mind and you drive so distracted that you barely make it home that night. When you finally close the door behind you at your house, your mind still constantly on your special inmate, you get undressed slowly, feeling used and dirty but at the same time, ecstatic. Taking off your creased pants, you feel the pocket and a lightbulb lights up in your mind when you slither out the letter you were meant to give him. You mentally smack yourself for forgetting the one responsibility you had today, but your heart and thighs tingle, realizing you need to pop by his cell tomorrow.

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@milly-louise @amourtentiaa @kitwalker02 @tatestripedsweater @therenlover @maria-akira @tatesimper @thxc0untessesgl0ve @mossybank @ahsxual @mxlti-fand0m-imaginess @mrs-march-ahs-biggest-fan @kitwalkerangel @kitisagoldenretrieverboy

[illyaana]

Cursive Ink - Yamaguchi Tadashi

Collab: Pain Tolerance by @haikyutiehoe

Thanks for making this collab, hun! the idea of pierced and/or tatted anime characters got me squealing~! Do check out the other works involved in the collab in the link up there~

Tags: Yamaguchi's POV, Angst, Fluff, Yamaguchi x Tattoo Artist! Reader, Binaural

Synopsis: Love never really goes the way we plan it to be - and Yamaguchi was no exception. His failed confession to his former best friend left him heartbroken. However, his decision to go to a tattoo parlour may have been the best (and craziest) choice he's ever made in his life. (I also believe Yamaguchi is pansexual, so don't get so confused XD)

Word Count: 2552

A bit of context: In Japanese, 'Yama' means mountain, 'Tsuki' means the Moon

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Want to get a personalized drabble about your love life with an anime character you like? Check out my 50 followers event's post here! You can choose any character from BNHA, Haikyu!!, AOT, JJK and Kuroko no Basketball <3

“Yamaguchi, no,” Tsukishima said, pulling his hand away from my hand.

“Why are you lying to yourself? I know you feel the same way, Tsuki - don’t lie to yourself.”

“I don’t, Yamaguchi,” Tsukishima said, eyes turning cold, “I am not gay - I am a straight, heterosexual male. I love women and women only.”

Lies.

You are lying to me.

You are in love with me.

You are already mine, Tsuki - just wake up and see it.

I know you can.

what was that kiss under the tree when we were kids?” I whispered, not wanting my voice to break, “If you never loved me, why kiss me, Tsuki?”

“We both agreed that it was a mistake, didn’t we?” The blonde male said, anger rising, “We both agreed - not just me.”

I said yes - I know I did.

That doesn’t mean I meant it.

You know me, Tsuki - I’ll agree to everything you’ll say.

Why aren’t you realising it?

I’ve waited for so many years for you to ask me out, but you never did.

I’m here, right in front of you, asking you to be mine - just say yes.

I don’t want to wait anymore - it’s too painful.

“I lied, okay?!” I scream, “I loved you ever since we were kids, Tsuki. I want to be the one you come back to when you leave, the only one you kiss, the only one you hug, the only one you dream about - I want to be that to you. Is that so hard to believe?!”

I hugged myself, not wanting to break down anymore.

That small hug was the only thing stopping me from letting all hell break loose.

I had kept this in ever since I knew Tsuki - ever since he saw him in that park.

I knew everything about the tall male. The way he smiles, the way he hides his anger when he wants to be respectful, his secret love for dinosaurs, his soft side, his small quirks - I knew it all like the back of his hand.

I knew what he needed to be the middle blocker’s lover, and I was willing to sacrifice myself to be the best thing for Tsuki.

One thing was clear in my head; Tsuki felt the exact same way.

“Yamaguchi, I’m sorry. I don’t love you the way you want me to,” Tsukishima said, kneeling beside the green-haired male.

“I don’t believe that.”

I forced his lips on Tsukishima’s.

I closed my eyes, trying to memorise how the lines of his soft and pale lips felt on his - how it softly caressed my lips without even responding to the intimate kiss I was trying to initiate.

I felt Tsukishima trying to push me away, but I didn’t let go of the male’s collar.

He already took my first kiss - what is the difference if I took another?

The second our lips left each other’s, Tsukishima punched my nose.

Blood dripped from my nose, but I couldn’t care less.

“Don’t you fucking call me Tsuki ever again, dumbass. Better yet, don’t call me.”

My last day of high school ended with blood and tears, but the pain in my heart from losing my best friend hurt more.

⁜

⁜

⁜

I stared at the stars, lying down in the little treehouse we made as kids in my backyard.

I tried to cry it all out, but I couldn’t.

I feel cheated by you, Tsukishima Kei.

You made me make you my everything.

My voice was tuned to calm you down.

My hands we moulded to keep you warm.

My life was made to keep you safe, but you don’t need me to be you.

But I do - I need you to be me.

One-sided crushes are the worst form of love, aren’t they?

You give it all for that one person - to please and cherish them.

They just think it’s just a form of showing how strong your friendship is, but you want more.

You are the only one who wants more.

You are the one crying at night about how you wished they were by your side.

You are the one craving for their touch.

You want them, but they don’t want you.

I don’t care about you bruising my face, Tsukishima-san.

I care about you fucking me up like this.

I will no longer wait for your messages.

I will no longer look at your tweets and be the only one giving reactions.

I will erase you from my narrative, Tsukishima-san.

You can wonder about how much you’ve hurt me when I have reached somewhere you can’t even touch me.

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⁜

⁜

“You are absolutely sure about this, right?” Hinata said, worry laced in his words.

I open the doors to the tattoo parlour and I was instantly mesmerized. The walls were filled with such intricate designs - sizes ranging from as small as a finger to as big as my whole body. The smell of fresh ink slowly hit me, reminding me of my schooling years.

“I am sure, Hinata. I was planning to do this ever since I was small, either way. I just wished it was under better circumstances,” I reply, eyes locked on all the flower motifs.

I always wanted a tattoo - it didn’t matter how big or small it was. I always thought of how beautiful the idea was - to have something permanently inked on your skin to remind you of who you were. Flowers drew with such hidden meaning, curved lines speaking words of poetry, ideas brought into life - tattoos are an artist’s masterpiece meant to paint on my skin as a canvas.

“Do you want me to stay? I don’t mind waiting here with you - “

“Weren’t you supposed to meet up with Kageyama later today?” I remind him, chuckling.

“That man is late for everything. I think he can handle me coming late for once.”

“I’m seriously okay, Hinata! Go get ready, I’ll send a picture when it’s done,” I say as I push him out of the shop.

“Okay, okay - make sure to send me that picture!” He said as he ran out of the shop.

Why follow me if you’re itching to leave?

“That friend of yours has really bright orange hair - is it dyed or natural?” I hear someone say.

Holy shit, you’re hot.

“Oh - uh- um- It’s natural,” I say, forming some space between us.

Holy shit, you’re hot.

You tied half of your hair in a small bun, showing me the small, intricate designs on your neck. Flowers decorated your soft skin, moving down under your shirt’s sleeve. Small golden piercings decorated your ears. They were encrusted with gems of various colours that shifted under the soft lighting gracing your skin.

You looked so beautiful I couldn’t stop staring.

“So, do you have an appointment?” You asked, breaking my train of thought.

“N- no.”

Stop stuttering, Yamaguchi Tadashi.

“First time, huh?” you smiled, “Don’t worry, you’ll be fine. The pain is different for everyone, but I think you can handle it.”

“T-Thanks.”

God, stop stuttering.

“God, you’re cute,” you laughed while looking at my frazzled face, “Don’t worry, my dearest client - you’re in capable hands. Come - let’s discuss your design, shall we?”

You grabbed my wrist and brought me to your corner, leaving me blushed mess.

Cute.

They called me cute.

I’m breathing, right?

Okay, I’m breathing.

As we were walking, I got to see the back of your neck - more specifically, a part of your tattoo.

It was a blossoming rose - a huge one. It had vines that grew from it, encircling your whole neck, moving down your shirt and reaching the tips of your fingers. Smaller roses grew from it, branching even smaller vines surrounded by leaves.

I wanted to know the story behind that tattoo. It looked so beautiful yet so dark. The thorns that came from certain vines alarmed me, but I kept my thoughts to myself. My attention was brought to your piercings - more specifically, the design of the encrusted jewels. They were flowers, as well. In the middle of each jewel held a line of gold that branched out, just like the vines of your tattoo.

“Oh, you’re looking at my tattoo and piercings, aren’t you?” You ask, eyebrow raised.

“Is it okay if I am?” I ask, worried.

You laughed.

“Of course it’s fine. Who would get a tattoo and not prepare for all the staring? Not going to lie, here - these piercings and that tattoo help me fuel my ego. After all, everyone’s staring at them,” you joke, playing with your hair.

You sit on your chair, pointing at the one opposite you.

“What are you waiting for? Sit.”

⁜

⁜

⁜

“So, you want some small vines surrounding a moon, right?” You ask as you brought out your tablet.

“Yeah, on my middle finger.”

I had enough of his little orders - I’ll twist his words into something much more meaningful. If the Moon isn’t willing to dance with the mountains, let the vines make the Moon feel the mountain’s pain from its rejection.

“That sounds really pretty,” you say, smiling at me, “Give me a minute - I’ll do a rough sketch and you can tell me if it’s to your liking.”

You took out the tablet’s pen tool and began to sketch. I eyed your eyes as you continued to sketch what would be my tattoo.

Thanks to the light from the tablet, I could see a part of another tattoo hidden under your shirt.

It was multiple birds flying across your collarbones, but there was one bird that moved to your neck. It was a smaller bird - much, much smaller. However, its wings were bigger - bigger than the other birds’.

“My family isn’t very appreciative of my more artistic side,” you began, knowing I wanted to know the story behind it.

“I love art - all types of art. Writing, drawing, painting - I loved how you could make a whole new world just with a few lines. My family…” you paused, “As much as they loved me, they couldn’t see a world where I could make a living from it. They tried to throw away this side of me, but the more they pushed it away, the more I needed it.”

You raised your tablet, showing me your sketch.

I loved it.

It was a crescent moon, wrapped in vines. Vines grew both upwards and below, accompanied by stars. Small buds were growing from the ends of the vines, leaves surrounding them.

I don’t know how you did it, but you captured all I felt about him in a few minutes - it astounded me.

“I took a few creative liberties, but-”

“It’s amazing - don’t change it.”

You’re amazing.

You smiled, getting off your chair.

“Head to that room,” you pointed to the smaller room right beside us, “I’ll get all the tools ready.”

⁜

⁜

⁜

“You ready?” you said, placing the pen right above my middle finger.

Why did I choose my middle finger for my first tattoo? It’s literally right on a bone, it’s going to hurt like hell.

“I guess…” I whisper.

“It won’t be that painful - trust me. People overexaggerate,” you say, trying to calm me down.

People weren’t overexaggerating - it hurt.

It hurt a lot.

I bit my lip, holding back the scream on the end of my lips.

“Hold on,” you said, removing the pen.

You soon came back with candy and began to unwrap it.

“Open your mouth, my liege.”

After chuckling, I opened my mouth and you plopped the sweet in my mouth.

Ooh, mango.

“Focus on the sweet, okay?” You said, patting my back.

It felt less painful, surprisingly. Focusing on the sweet rolling in my mouth helped reduce the pain significantly.

I raised my head slightly so that I could see your intense focus on my finger. You were biting on your lower lip as you slowly moved the pen on my finger, following the temporary tattoo you made earlier as a guide. You were annoyed by a strand of your hair that refused to stay behind on your ear - your anger-filled expression said it all.

Using my other hand, I pushed it behind your ear to help you focus.

A soft thank you came from you as you continued.

Blood rushed to my cheeks the minute those words left your lips.

So cute.

“You didn’t finish your story…” I asked, trying to end the awkward silence.

“It was that interesting to you?” you smiled.

You’re interesting, Y/N.

I nod.

“I asked them if I could draw again. I didn’t want to lose that skill I finetuned all my life - it felt so wrong. They thought I’d never succeed in life if I focused on ‘these useless hobbies’ and shouted at me. I remember crying for hours, but they didn’t care,” you say as you turn off the pen, wiping the tip.

“I began to spend more hours in school just so that I could scribble and draw. They’d never know what I did there - all the drawings I did, all the stories I wrote, all the songs I sang. I am not like my parents. I strayed from the thought of ‘art is useless’- I am the bird moving away from the flock,” you said, turning your chair towards me.

“Why did they hate art? It’s something that makes you happy - If it’s something you like, you should do it,” I said, slightly pissed.

Thank God they didn’t listen to them.

“Best part - they have paintings all over the house,” you snickered.

You sighed, stretching your arms in the process.

“I don’t really care about their opinion about it, anyway. I’m no longer under their wing - I’m my own person. I get money by doing the thing I love, and that’s so fulfilling. The only thing they’re paying for right now is my college education - that’s it,” you said as you pressed a wet cloth to my new tattoo.

“Wait - we’re the same age?”

“Yeah, we are,” you smiled.

“I expected you to be way older,” I say, embarrassed.

“I am utterly offended, sir,” you say, feigning sadness.

“Come on!” I say, laughing.

“I am expecting a tip,” you say, walking towards the door.

You’re amazing, Y/N. I just wish I met you earlier…

⁜

⁜

⁜

“Well, it was nice meeting you, Yamaguchi Tadashi,” you say, closing the cash register in front of you.

“And I you, my friend.”

I walk to the door, gripping on the door handle.

I want you in my life, Y/N. Even if we spent just a few hours together, you’ve made me so happy. If you are open to the idea, I want to be friends with you - and who knows? We might become something…

I walk back to the cashier.

“Oh, did I forget something?” You ask, worried.

“No, no…”

Come on, say it.

“Hey, wanna exchange numbers? I wanna hang out with you - of course, only if you want to,” you say smiling.

Holy shit.

“Yes, please.”

You held back your laugh the minute you saw my face.

How many times have I made you laugh just by you looking at my face?

“Here’s my number,” you passed me your card, “Message me so that I get your number, too!”

“Okay!” I smile.

Holy shit. I did it.

“See you again, ‘guchi.”

⁜

⁜

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[joshstambourine]

Greta Van Fleet as Dad's

Haven't been able to un-see this idea since it showed up on my dash and uggggh. I couldn't get over how cute all of this was.

For this imagine, I'm sort of picturing them with younger children, anywhere from 3-5 years old as they are all still crazy young hehe. Also. All of these imagines work with any gender of child. It's all sorta just what I imagine them having and being like in general 🖤

Taglist: @anditsmywholeheart

JOSH

Josh is such an interesting guy. He is both so deeply smart... but also at the same time he is the equivalent of a conversation between my last two brain cells.

The sheer amount of energy this man has means he'll not only keep up with a kid but also tire them tf out.

There would always be so much screaming and laughing in the house.

Lots of games of tag and the floor is lava

No matter what he has, son or daughter --- there will be so much dancing. Josh would be the kind of dad who loves to hold his kid and just dance around the house with them.

Not to mention all of the goofy songs they would be singing together.

I can see Josh conversing with his kids like adults even when they are little. Meaning there will be some very serious conversations about very silly things. Potato chips can make you a fly? On it. The floor is both lava and also the arctic? Josh is ready to hear all about how that's possible. There aren't mermaids but there are human sharks? Josh needs to know where he can find them asap.

I can very easily imagine him dressed up and sitting at a table that is far too small for him with his legs crossed.

His daughter would have started by putting one necklace on him and it soon escalated to a crown, sunglasses that didn't fit, and a set of fairy wings. Surrounded by many stuffed animals and dolls.

"Mmm, this is great tea! What kind is it?"

"Grape."

He'd look at his tiny tea cup filled with apple juice. "Huh I could have sworn it was Apple. Did you change it on me?"

She would shake her head, "No daddy! We already drank the apple tea!" She'd laugh.

"What?? You drank all the apple tea without me?!" He'd exclaim, "why did you drink all the apple tea with out me?"

Josh would inch over and begin to tickle her, just loving to hear her laugh really.

"Daddy! Daddy no! You can't tickle me, I'm the princess!!"

Jake

Jake immediately strikes me as such a chill laid back dad. The kind of cool dad you'd definitely want during your teenage years.

He'd be the kind of dad to sit and watch cartoons religiously with his kid, there's no way he'd be missing them. Doesn't matter if it's cool or comedy gold, if his little one loves it they're gonna watch it together.

I think Jake would really want to teach his kid how to play guitar. It's something he's so passionate about that I think it would bring him a lot of joy if his kid had at least the knowledge of techniques and things, even if they weren't a huge fan of playing themselves.

Jake as well strikes me as someone who would be psyched about making dad jokes, of course with a straight face.

That is just a long winded way of saying that as a very young child this kid would know more about music than I do now after 20 years of living on this planet.

"What did the Buffalo say to his little boy when he dropped him off at school?"

"Bison!"

For a gender of a kid I'm split right in the middle when it comes to Jake. I think either would be equally as adorable but for this imagine I'm going with a girl to keep things even.

With a little girl I can imagine him sitting quietly as he watches her tiny hands try their best to paint his nails cleanly.

There is pink nail polish everywhere. Everything is a mess. Everything smells of chemicals. But it's fine.

"After I do your nails can I braid your hair too?" She'd eagerly ask, not looking at his hands anymore but she is still trying to paint.

"But your show is going to be on soon...! I thought we were gonna cuddle?"

"....can I braid your hair and watch my show?"

Jake would look at her seriously before smiling, moving quickly to give her a small kiss on the cheek, "of course you can, only if you give me lots of cuddles after."

"Okay daddy!"

*insert a child who is only half heartedly braiding hair while fully enthralled in their show. Head tilted on a 45° angle to see the TV with half of Jake's hair in a frizzy mangled braid.*

Sam

I really think Sam would want his kids to listen to really good music from a young age.

I mean don't get me wrong I think all of the boys would be like this... but I see him being the kind of parent that buys into the "smarter babies listened to music in important development periods"

The ultimate "my kid is so smart" kind of parent that then shows you 20 drawings that don't look like anything, but clearly they look like something to him.

All those drawings get tucked away somewhere safe so he can go back and look at them proudly as his little one grows up.

"Maybe they'll be an artist?!"

He also strikes me as a parent who wants to be really involved in teaching his kid things. ABC's? Sam's baby has them locked and loaded. Numbers 1-20? Still has trouble remembering anything with a nine but we are working on it.

Ultimate joy is achieved when Sam gets to teach his little one how to ride a bike. He feeling like its a right of passage for every kid to have with their dad.

I pictured Sam sitting with his little boy at the kitchen table, puzzle pieces sprawled all over.

"Dad, I have a joke for you." He'd say as he fiddled with a piece.

"Oh yeah? Go for it buddy." Sam would reply as he connects another edge piece.

"Knock knock!"

"Whose there?"

"Banana!"

"Banana who?"

"The Banana man!" Snickering coming from across the table, hands banging on the table and nearly knocking several pieces off the table.

Sam would laugh a long, "Y'know I've never heard that version of that joke---"

"Dad I'm not done"

"Oh I'm sorry, continue." He'd say beginning to look for a few more pieces to go together.

"Knock knock!"

"Whose there?"

"Banana!"

"Banana who...?" Sam would respond slowly, prepared for the same poorly created joke.

"TWO BANANA MEN!"

Sam would have to lay on the table. It was such a freaking terrible joke but so funny to see the amount of joy it brought the little boys features. "You have to tell that one to mom, okay?"

Danny

Danny is such a loving guy in general, I feel like parenting for him would just be so easy. Not saying that there wouldn't be troubled times--- just that he's just one of those people that were born to parent.

The very dependable parent. Always going to make time for any small thing his little one needs.

Danny is going to encourage his kid to do whatever they love with all of his being.

"You like rocks? We should get a rock polisher."

"You're right these cookies are pretty good, maybe we should get the stuff we need to bake them together."

He is going to have a series or specific book he reads to his little one until they fall asleep. Its something he would refuse to miss, they have to do their chapter! Even if he's on tour somewhere he's going to call home to make sure they can read together.

Danny is over the moon to have a little golfing buddy. As soon as this kid could walk he bought them their own set of clubs so they could play along with him. He just couldn't wait to start teaching them.

Golf time is bonding time. They'd get to walk together and talk about anything and everything.

I've been crazy torn about whether to write about him with a son or a daughter, both are equally as cute. For the sake of evenness though I decided on a boy.

"Okay so for your driver buddy you need to hold your arms waaay out." Danny would tell his son holding his arms out.

"Like this?"

"A little more."

Little eyes look to Danny curiously as his arms become fully extended from his body.

"Perfect! Make sure you stand straight, and keep your eyes on the ball." He says with his hand on the middle of the boys back, "And then you just---"

"SWING!"

Danny nearly getting clocked in the head with a golf club but leans back just in time. The satisfying ting of the little one's club hitting the ball sounds,

"DID YOU SEE HOW FAR IT WENT DAD?!"

*Insert the face Danny made when he pretended Sam's margarita's were good*

~ If anyone wants a full fic written for one of these please let me know because I will 100% write out fluffy family fics without hesitation!! ~

[abarbaricyalp]

Idk if you are still taking prompts, but you know the vine two dudes chilling in a hot tub 5 feet apart cause they're not gay, and a girl quoting it in a park about two girls in the distance and one of them hearing and going "Actually I am gay" Like that scenario, only involving them fixing the boat? Maybe Sarah quoting it to give Sam shit when she thinks Bucky cant hear and Bucky goes "Wait, no I'm gay" or something, or just the general gist of that. Sorry if this us too specific, I've never sent anyone a prompt before :P

Hello Friend! Thank you so much for sending anything in at all! I know the vine you're talking about, but I couldn't find it on Youtube. (I did find a two day rabbit hole of old compilations though) This was also my first foray into writing Sarah as a fully fleshed character! I was excited to get the practice 'cause I had an idea bouncing around in my head about her and Bucky talking after he wakes up in the Wilson house. I kept her a little more like she had been in my other fics pre-show here. I so wish we got a little more of her!

Feel free, anyone, to send me Sambucky prompts!

The North American Superhero in a Domestic Situation

Sarah Wilson loved her brother deeply. The kind of soul crushing love that could only be formed through family, loss, and approximately four thousand brawls around the living room throughout their life. She looked up to her brother more than she could ever imagine looking up to anyone. Even when they were fighting or picking on each other, she couldn’t help but feel a swell in her chest when he came into her line of sight.

That didn’t mean she understood him. In fact, from the age of eight, watching her brother interact with the world had become her go-to pastime. Why did he have to roll every pea around the plate individually before eating them? Why did he and his friends spend seven years socking each other in the arm to prove friendship? Why did he talk to himself in the mirror, even when he knew Sarah or someone else was standing in the doorway?

Sam Wilson was just deeply weird. She had no idea how he had tricked the Avengers, a plethora of bad guys, and half of the media world into thinking he was remotely cool. She saw a news story once that had King T’Challa standing on a platform with Sam and the newscasters talked about how impressive Sam’s suit was. It was unnatural, the effect he had on people.

And in all her years, she never thought she’d see anyone weirder than Sam. But then James Barnes had showed up. It was like a complete reversal of Sam. Sarah was taken in for approximately three hours by his charm and face before she realized he too was deeply, deeply weird.

She justified sitting on the edge of the Paul and Darlene, watching her brother and James Barnes spar off about some dumb trivia fact, by deciding it was an anthropological expedition. The North American Superhero in a Domestic Situation. She watched Sam watch Barnes take a long pull off his beer. She watched Barnes kick his feet up near Sam’s legs and then draw them back quickly when a current jolted the boat. She watched Barnes’ fingers tap-tap-tap against the edge of the boat, inching closer to Sam’s shoulder before he chickened out and brought his hand back to his own lap. She watched Sam suggest Bucky take his jacket off, ‘unless you plan on sun blinding me with the robocop arm.’ She watched Sam look away when Barnes did shrug his jacket off.

When she was seventeen and Sam was fifteen, she had found Sam crying in his room, pillow pressed to his face to muffle the noise. They were at the age where going into each other’s rooms uninvited started international conflicts, but Sarah, who watched her brother intently, felt like she knew what was going on. So she let herself in through their Jack-and-Jill bathroom and shut the door behind her.

Sam didn’t stop crying, not even to yell at her to get out, so she sat on the end of his bed and rolled a baseball under her foot for a while. Finally, she’d said, “You don’t have to tell Mom and Dad, y’know.”

Sam had just about wailed and bit the corner of his pillow to stop himself.

“That’s gross, stop it,” Sarah ordered and pushed Sam’s shoulder back enough to yank his pillow free and then reached over to wipe the tears from his cheeks. “I should make you do the laundry this week so I know I’m not touching your snot germs,” she teased softly.

“How did you know?” Sam hiccuped out. Tears were still brimming at his eyes, but they didn’t fall.

“I’m your older sister. I made you. Like a doll. You think there’s something about you that I don’t know?” she joked. And when the tears did spill over his long lashes, she sighed and pulled him closer to her side. “I just know the way you interact with that boy from the basketball team ain’t just friendly.”

“Jesus, do you think he can tell?” Sam asked and she could hear the mortification in his voice.

“Sam, he’s a freshman in high school. The only thing he knows is that he’s scared of everything too. No one’s paying that much attention to you.”

“Screw you,” Sam muttered.

“What’re all these tears for you if you didn’t make a move and get shot down?”

“God, Sarah, can you not say things like that?”

“Watch your mouth,” Sarah warned with no heat in her voice. “Come on, tell me what’s wrong. I’m not leaving until you do.”

“I just…” Sam sat up and worked his jaw for a while. His chin dimpled and his eyes watered but he managed to control himself. “I’m scared, Sarah. I’m scared of never being in love. Of having to leave if I am. I’m scared to say something and I’m scared not to say something. I’m so scared of...losing any of it.”

“Sam,” Sarah sighed and pulled Sam into another hug. “You’re fifteen. You’re not supposed to be in love yet. You don’t have to think about any of that. You just have to focus on passing Geometry, alright? Mom’ll whoop your ass more for failing than anything else.”

“I have a B+, that’s not failing!” Sam snapped. He kept his face against her shoulder for a second long before he sat up and wiped his tears away. “Please don’t tell anyone.”

“Who am I gonna tell? I told you, my friends don’t like you as much as you think they do.”

“Your friends like me more than they like you,” Sam shot back and he almost sounded normal.

Sarah smiled softly and patted Sam’s cheek. “I won’t tell Mom or Dad. Of course not. That’s for you to do. But--”

“I’m always going to tell them when you sneak out the window.”

“No! Sam! You can’t! You owe me now!”

“Going to field parties is not the same thing!” Sam said in a shriek as Sarah leaned over to pinch his sides. They grappled for a second before Sam managed to push Sarah off the bed.

“You owe me,” she reminded him as she walked back to the bathroom.

Sam wiped his eyes again and nodded. “Sure, Sarah. I do.”

Sam almost had the same look on his face now. Like there was something he wanted to reach for that he thought was too impossible to hold. The Older Sister Instinct to Antagonize into a Solution kicked in.

“Two bros, chilling on a boat, five feet apart ‘cause they’re not gay,” she sing-songed. Sam looked mortified again but masked his face into something more irritated with a roll of his eyes when Barnes looked over at him.

“Ignore her. It’s this old video--” Sam started.

But Bucky interrupted to say, “Actually I am gay,” as he looked back over at Sarah. “Sorry if I got your hopes up,” he added with a grin that really did get the hopes up.

“What?” Sam asked and Sarah, ever watchful, could see the beer bottle shaking in his hand.

“What?” Bucky repeated innocently.

“He said he’s gay,” Sarah clarified.

“Thank you, Sarah,” Sam ground out. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Bucky snorted. “When would I have said anything? ‘Sorry for ripping your wings off and kicking you off of a hellicarrier, by the way I’m gay.’?”

“You did what?” Sarah asked.

“‘Sorry for claiming I didn’t bomb the UN only to be reverted back to the assassin who would have done that and then fighting you again. By the way I’m gay.’ ‘Thanks for saving my life. Sorry about the giant undersea prison. By the way I’m gay.’ ‘There’s an imminent battle with weird ass space dogs that want to eat our faces. By the way I’m gay.’ ‘Sorry about Tony Stark, whose life I kind of ruined. Lovely funeral. By the way I’m gay.’ ‘I’m in the middle of being pissed at you about the Shield. By the way I’m gay.’ ‘Maybe don’t take me rolling through a field of flowers. It does things to me ‘cause I’m gay.’ ‘John Walker’s fucking insane. I’m gay, but definitely not for this bullshit.’ I mean, come on, Sam.”

“Flowers?” Sarah asked.

“Besides, why would you care? I don’t make it a habit of telling straight guys I’m into guys.”

“You don’t seem to make a habit of telling many people that,” Sarah pointed out. “I googled you. Nothing suggesting that came up.”

Bucky shrugged. “I’m a guy from the 30s. It was trained out of me.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Sarah said quickly. “Back up away from that because we’re not gonna try to Oppression Olympics our way through our histories. Did you just say Sam was straight?”

“Sarah!” Sam hissed.

“Sure. I mean, I saw him with Romanov. Hill. He has Tinder on his phone.”

“Samuel Thomas, you better not,” Sarah warned lightly. “You’re better than that.”

“He’s a lady-killer.”

Sarah snorted and had to bring her hand up to her face. “He definitely is not. There has been no lady-killing on his end for a long time.”

“Sarah!” Sam tried again.

“You explain it to him then. Mr. 30s is gonna need the long way round explanation.”

Sam sighed and dragged his hand over his face. “Dammit. Fine. I’m not straight either, alright? I’m...bi, or something. It’s been a while since I’ve had to think about it.”

“What?” Bucky asked, not unlike Sam had.

“He said he’s bisexual. Interested in both parties. Swings either way. Hit a homerun and then hasn’t really swung since.”

“Sarah, Jesus Christ,” Sam groaned.

“What?” Bucky asked again.

“I was engaged. To a man,” Sam said.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Bucky asked, clearly missing the irony.

“Oh, it was inconvenient for you but I had plenty of opportunities, huh?” Sam asked. “Ms. Tell-It-All over there wasn’t joking. I haven’t swung any direction in a while. Not since before I met Steve. My fiance died. And then it never came up.”

Bucky blinked at Sam. He kept bringing the bottle halfway up his body and then setting it back on his leg without ever taking a drink. “Fuck, Sam, I’m sorry,” Bucky said, which was not what Sarah was expecting and it clearly wasn’t what Sam was expecting because Sam finally moved closer to Bucky on the bench.

“What for? You didn’t do anything. This time.”

“Yeah, but if I’d known you were into me too, I woulda kissed you in Germany.”

“Oh, I am so not into you,” Sam denied. “And I wouldn’t have our first kiss ruined by immediately running into the government’s roving show monkey.”

“That’s the worst,” Bucky agreed and also finally moved over on the bench until they were pressed thigh to thigh. “Tell me how much you don’t like me again,” he challenged.

“I can’t stand you,” Sam answered and brought his hand up to Bucky’s jaw.

Sarah couldn’t fight down the grin that came to her face and turned to prop her feet on the pier, back to Sam and Bucky. Just this once, she didn’t need to watch her brother to understand him.

Read on AO3 here!

[tumbledfreckles]

No Such Thing As An Easy Mission

There was nothing more annoying, James decided, than rescuing someone who did not want to be rescued. 

It should have been an easy mission. Well, easy was a relative term. Straightforward was probably a more accurate description. Get in, find the mark, get them out. Do it as quietly, discreetly, and quickly as possible.  

Simple. 

That the place he was getting in was an extremely secure, exceptionally well guarded safe house for Lord Voldemort. It was said that the man himself resided there often. Presided over meetings of his Death Eaters. Many an Order member had gone in, never to be seen again. 

Dumbledore had acknowledged the precariousness of the mission when he’d asked it. 

“I wouldn’t normally ask something like this,” his eyes didn’t twinkle, his face sombre and his tone gentle. “But we need them.” 

He hadn’t said who, exactly, James would be extracting. In case he was caught, in case the worst happened, it was better that he didn’t know. But he knew where they would be, that they had some combat experience, and that Dumbledore thought them valuable enough to risk James’ life for. 

“You are the only one I trust with this, James,” the use of his first name surprised him. He wasn’t sure his former headmaster had ever used it before. “But it is unfair of me to ask this of you.” 

“You’re not asking,” James replied firmly. “I’m offering.” 

He’d said goodbye to the boys. As they did when any of them went out on a mission. Hell, the way people were disappearing they should probably do it every time one of them left a room. 

“Come back, yeah?” Remus had clasped his shoulder, so tight James had almost winced at his werewolf strength. 

“Be safe,” Peter had squeezed his arm. 

“Don’t fucking die,” Sirius had hugged him, extra to the last. “Or I’m drinking the last bottle of Dad’s whiskey.” 

“You will bloody not,” James had choked a laugh as he thumped his brother on the back. “It’s mine.” 

“Ours, as Dad would say,” Sirius shook his head sadly as James pulled back. “You never were great at sharing, Prongs.” 

How he wished he was sitting at home, drinking that whiskey with his friends now. 

Getting in had gone to plan. He’d taken down most of the security wards, taken out numerous guards in a way that spoke to the ample practise he’d had in recent months. Being proficient in sneaking had been honed at school, something to be proud of. Being proficient at hurting people, even Death Eaters, was something he struggled with on a daily basis. 

James had made his way to the cell block Dumbledore had described. The masked man they’d captured in the last battle had come up trumps under Veritasium. It was exactly as he’d intoned, right down to the solid door on the final cell, behind which sat the person James was here to rescue. 

It took him longer than he wanted to admit to get the door open. Several spells, unlocking spells, blasting spells, a few curses, a hex or two. He swore several times, counting the seconds it took, knowing each one would reduce the amount of time he had to escape. Hopefully, the person he was rescuing could move quickly. 

He couldn’t have been more wrong. 

“Of all the gin joints, he had to walk into mine.” 

James' jaw dropped as he took in the figure before him. “Evans?” 

“James Potter. Fancy seeing you here,” She stood up, casually, as if they had all the time in the world. Twirled her wand around her fingers, just like she had in school. “I take it you’re the cavalry?” 

“What the fuck -” He stopped. Swallowed. Tried again. “We need to go.” 

“I’m not going anywhere,” Lily shook her head, moving toward him and the door. “Thanks for getting the door open though. They spelled the inside of the room to be impervious to magic. It’s why they left me this.” 

He ignored the wand tip she tapped against his chest, “Come on.” 

“Still not a good listener, huh, Potter?” She stepped even closer to him. He could feel heat radiating from her. “I’m not coming with you.” 

“You don’t have a choice, Evans. You can’t exactly stay here.” 

“Oh, I’m not staying,” she smirked at him.

“Then let’s go,” James shifted uneasily, his ears pricked for any sounds outside the cell. 

“I have a job to do.” 

“No, I have a job to do. We need to go.” He took her wrist, trying to ignore the electric shock that coursed up his arm when he touched her. By the way her eyes flicked down, he was sure she felt it too. 

“I need to finish what I started,” she tugged at his hold, frowning when he didn’t release her. “Come on, Potter. It was cute when we were younger, but surely you’ve learnt by now how to take no for an answer.” 

“I’m not asking you on a date, Evans. I’m trying to rescue you. Now, let’s go,” James couldn’t help the tension in his voice. Any moment now they were going to be discovered. While it was always going to be a stressful mission, it was so much worse now that he knew it was her. 

He needed to get them both out. 

“It seems we’re at an impasse, Potter,” she’d moved forward again, coming shoulder to shoulder with him. He could smell her familiar scent at this distance. It brought a wealth of memories. “You have two choices,” she continued, while he told himself to focus. It wouldn’t do to lose his head over her, like he had when he was young. 

“And what are they, Evans?” He looked at her properly then. He’d been avoiding it. As if he would ever have been able to get out of this without looking at her. 

Lily was more beautiful than he remembered. Either his memory wasn’t as good as he thought, or she’d improved with age, like a fine wine. His expression must have changed as he took her in, for her brow furrowed before she answered. 

“You can go back the way you came. Get yourself to safety. You’ve done your job, you’ve freed me. You can leave.” 

“I’m not going without you,” his voice sounded gravel, even to his own ears. 

She didn’t look surprised. “Option two it is then.” She moved her hand, pulling her wrist from his grasp and placing her fingers in his instead. “You’re coming with me.” 

Before he could protest, she’d started to move, tugging him along behind. James stumbled the first step out of the cell, before his brain caught up and switched back into mission mode. He crept silently behind her as they made their way out of the cell area and up the stairs into the manor itself. 

She knew her way around it, James gave her that. Lily didn’t hesitate as she ducked them down a long hallway and selected the third room on the right. She braced her back against the door, hand on the doorknob, wand ready. He nodded, she opened the door for him to lead through. 

Their preparation was in vain. The room was empty. James lowered his wand as Lily pushed past him to the benches and cauldrons set around the room. 

“What is this?” 

“Snape’s lab,” Lily answered distractedly, lifting books, opening draws, pushing scrolls of parchment around. 

“Snape’s?” James looked around him again, half expecting the vile man to appear at the sound of his name. 

“You remember Snape, don’t you, Potter?” She didn’t even look up, her voice dry. 

“Unfortunately,” he muttered. “So he really is a -” 

“Death Eater,” Lily finished his sentence. “Yeah. Since just after school I think.” 

“I’ve never run into him,” James knew he wouldn’t have missed the greasy git, even behind a mask. 

“He doesn’t really do duels. He’s more of an inventor.” 

“I remember,” James would never forget how he’d suffered at the end of one of Snape’s inventions. Werewolf gashes had nothing on the slicing spell that had seen him nearly bleed out in the middle of a corridor during rounds. 

Lily’s face implied she was also thinking of that night. If not for her quick thinking, James might not be standing here now. “Right. Of course.” 

“So, what is all this? What is he doing for them?” James was eager to move on from that memory. If he lingered too long, he’d recall what had enraged Snape so much that night. As vivid as the pain of Sectumsampra still was, even more clear was the feel of his lips on hers moments before. 

Their first kiss. 

Also their last. 

“Creating potions. For cursing, for destroying. For blowing us all to bits,” Lily opened a notebook, scanned several pages before shrinking it and shoving it in her jacket pocket. “He’s trying to win them this war without needing to cast a single spell.” 

“That bastard.”

“That about covers it.” 

“How do you know all this?” James couldn’t help asking, even as he moved back toward the door to check for signs they’d been followed. The manor was curiously silent. 

“Research. A chance meeting. Some well timed Legilimency.” 

“You saw into his mind?” 

Lily almost grinned at the disgust in his voice, “I washed several times afterwards, don’t worry.” 

“You should get hazard pay.” 

“Oh, believe me, I asked.” 

“Who are you working for?” James’ curiosity wouldn’t settle, despite the circumstances. He hadn’t seen her since school. She’d run a mile after the incident with Snape, blaming herself for him ending up in the Hospital Wing. There hadn’t been enough time left in the year to get them back on track before she’d vanished completely. 

“Same person as you, it would seem.” 

“You’re not at the meetings.” 

“Not enough snacks.” 

“Evans.” 

She sighed, still searching. “I’ve been working on my own. Dumbledore agreed. It was the only way I’d help.” She looked up at where he stared at her. “I couldn’t let anyone else get hurt.” 

“That was not your fault. Lily -” 

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she snapped the book shut and pocketed it. “All done. Let’s go.” 

“Not a moment too soon,” James could hear noise at the far end of the hall. He pulled his cloak out and waved it invitingly. “I trust you remember this?” 

“Only because it broke my poor Prefect heart when I found out.” 

Despite her sarcasm, Lily moved swiftly to him, ducking under the cloak with a practised ease. And she did know it well. When they’d become friends in seventh year, they’d taken many an enjoyable stroll down to Hogsmeade, and made midnight raids to the kitchen for study supplies. 

Her back pressed against his chest as they shuffled slowly down the hall. His arms wrapped tightly around her waist as he pulled them back against a wall to avoid a patrolling goon. Her hair tickled his nose as her head rested just under his chin for several breaths before they edged down the stairs. His lips brushed her ear as he bent to whisper. 

“The door is unlocked, but we can’t open it without suspicion.” 

Her hand rested on his at her waist, as her chin tilted up to reply, “So, what’s the plan?” 

“In about thirty seconds, a diversion will happen upstairs. I set it before we left. We go then.” 

Lily nodded. James felt her twirl her wand in her hand, despite the small space. Then she did something he never expected. 

She relaxed back into him. 

Her hands smoothed along his forearms. Her body melted into his until he wasn’t sure where he finished and she began. Her cheek turned to brush against his chest, nose nuzzling into his neck. He never wanted this moment to end.

“Evans,” his whisper was a question, a plea. 

“Shhh,” she murmured back. “This has to get me through the next few years.” 

Before James could ask what she meant, several explosions went off upstairs. Footsteps from all over the manor thumped against the floor, all heading for the sound. A masked Death Eater came through the front door, and charged past them. 

“Go,” James pushed Lily, but she was already moving. 

The cloak slipped as they moved through the open door. James tore it off them once outside, shrinking it and shoving it in his pocket as they ran. They were almost out of the ward zone, almost safe to apparate, when a shout came from behind. James felt a curse hit him square in the back a second later. He fell over the ward line. 

“James,” Lily had gone several feet before she realised he wasn’t beside her. She came back, falling to her knees next to him. 

“Get out of here, Evans,” he growled. “I’ll be right behind you.” 

“Yeah right.” She made to pull him to his feet. 

“Lily, just go. You’ve got the information.” He could feel strength draining out of him by the second. He was dead weight. 

“Quiet, Potter. I’m being a white knight.” Lily pulled his arm over her shoulders, wrapped hers around his waist, and pulled him into a side along apparition. 

His head spun, his stomach lurched, and when they landed in an empty field, his worthless legs gave way, pulling her down on top of him. His eyes stayed closed as he groaned, a sound loud enough that he didn’t hear the words she muttered next. But the relief was instant. 

“Thanks,” he sighed. 

“All part of the service.”

He expected her to get off him, and was pleasantly surprised when she didn’t. Instead, Lily shifted her weight to her elbows, freeing her hands to gently cup his face. He opened his eyes to see her blinking down at him. 

“Alright, Potter?” she asked. 

He smiled, “Alright.” He brought a hand up, shifting her hair back from her face, mirroring her hold of his head. “But maybe you should stick around, make sure I’m okay.” 

“I only left to keep you safe,” Lily’s thumb brushed across his cheek, his lip. “But it looks like you need me here to make sure that happens.” 

“I’ve always needed you, Evans. Stay. Please.” 

“Well, seeing you asked so nicely.” She smiled as she said the words, but James never saw it. Her lips had pressed down on his, and he was only too happy to oblige with a kiss of his own. 

[dcbutinamrev]

laurloch meeting for the first time perhaps?

Of course! Requests always open!

***

Eighteen-year-old John Laurens sighs as he stares up at the building before him. He presses his lips firmly together as he shifts his bag onto a comofortable position. He readies his hands, rubbing them together before finally gripping a brick from the wall in front of him and lifting his right foot. He reaches his left arm up an inch higher before finally fixing his right foot on the brick. Laurens stares at his goal a few feet above him: a ledge that connects to the brick building. This is where he usually sits in the early mornings or late evenings to clear his mind, to give himself some time for him and just relax.

Laurens grins as he grunts, shifting his body a little over to the left as he lifts his right foot and arm before shifting his body again over to the right as left foot moves up an inch, followed by the arm. His bag thumps against his back with each step he takes as he climbs the brick wall, his fingers burn against the bricks, his muscles straining. But his face remains determined and stern, his jaw clenched as he huffs and puffs.

Laurens glances over to his left where ledge connects and grins. Only a few inches now. Not feet. Laurens grimaces as he lifts his other foot up, fixing it into the brick, some chucks of the brick crumbling onto the streets of Geneva below him. The sun sizzles, causing Laurens to feel a bead of sweat trickle down the side of his face and down towards his chin. There's a faint, cool breeze blowing by, but not enough to fully cool him. Birds crow in the distance and flap their wings across the clear, cloudless rich blue sky. People mill around the streets below him, some chatting and laughing, carriages being wheeled by horses, the wheels clattering against the cobblestone streets, the horses whinning as they come to a stop.

Laurens holds his place for a moment, trying to catch his breath as he glances down below him, watching the other citizens of Geneva go about their day, children laughing and squealing as they race down the sidewalks, chickens gobbling about as they chase after them, the dogs barking with their tails wagging. Men laughing as they sit in front of a tavern, holding out a glass of wine or beer, taking an unhealthy swing. Women in beautiful, flowy, colorful dresses ranging from pink to violet to blue to gold roam about the streets, some having their arm looped through their husbands as they walk or others just stand near the market, giggling discreetly as they eye something. Gossiping to one another.

Laurens rolls his eyes at them before continuing his task, huffing and puffing with each step he takes. Once Laurens has reached the ledge, he wraps his arm around the edge of the building before swinging his leg around so his back is pressed against the edge. Laurens huffs and puffs again, closing his eyes gently as he rests his forearm on his forehead, trying to catch his breath. Laurens opens his only to glance up at the sky, thankfully no where near the sun. Laurens pouts a little, his bottom lip puckering out.

"Wil it ever rain here?" Laurens grumbles to himself as he swings his bag around to place it in between his legs.

He unties it and rips it open, searching for his sketchbook, his ink pot and quill. He mutters a breathless, "Ah ha" when he finds it, zips the bag shut and leans against the edge. Laurens sighs, relieved now and he runs a hand through his honey colored hair, glancing down at the streets below him. Laurens eyes a couple of women chatting to one another lively, spies a couple of men laughing, some whistling to get their horses' attention. Laurens chews on the inside of his cheek, furrowing his brows as he wonders which to sketch out.

Laurens brings his knees up to his chest and flips the book open, unscrewing the inkpot lid and dipping the tip of his feathered quill into the inkpot. Laurens bites his lip. He begins, as a warm up, to sketch his mother, a vivid vision he alway keeps in his mind. He starts off with her eyes, since those seem to be the easiest part for him. He frames out the irises and the pupils, the little dents for the bridge of the nose. Laurens frowns. His least favorite part or the one that's most difficult for him to sketch is the lips.

Laurens tips his head up to meet the sky again before sighing heavily and glancing back down at the paper before him. He chews on the corner of his lip as he draws a straight line with his quill. He refreshes his ink and draws a slight larger curve at the bottom of his mother's lip and a thinner curve barely visible for her upper lip. Laurens then defines her cheekbones before framing out her face. Once that task has been completed, he then does her neck and shoulders. He only does from the neck up. Laurens flicks his quill around as he does her hair, pulled up into a high bun with a few curls dangling in front of her ears. He creates some dots on her earlobes to show her earrings before creating her necklace next and some part of her dress.

Laurens sighs when he finishes, leaning back against the ledge and staring at his drawing, his chest squeezing as he remembers his mother. His sweet, beautiful, trusting, kind, caring mother who loved him more than the world. Laurens blinks his eyes and shakes his head before quickly flipping to the next page.

He glances down at the streets again, wondering who to draw next. Perhaps that woman over there with the purple hat and white feather in it? Or that man over there under the tavern with the rocking chair, his glass of wine in hand? Or those two children in the distanace playing what Laurens thinks is hopscotch.

"Hey!" a voice suddenly shouts, startling Laurens from his thoughts.

Laurens yelps, his book and quill fumbling around in his hands. He breathes fast in and out, his heart thumping as he holds his items to his chest. Laurens frowns, glacing around him with his brows furrowed together.

"Hey!" the voice calls again.

Laurens glances down as he sees a man perhaps around his age, maybe a year older with slick, dark brown hair pulled back into a low ponytail, a black ribbon securing it and a tricorn hat perched on his head. He wears a dark blue coat with a navy waistcoat and tan colored breeches with stockings that come up to his knees, his black boots up to his shins. Laurens stares into his eyes: an emerald green, a beautiful shade of green. A green Laurens has never seen before.

His chest squeezes and his stomach twists.

"You! What do you think you're doing?" the man below him says, his voice distant as he places his hands on his hips. He raises an eyebrow.

Laurens doesn't say a word. He just stares into those eyes, his heart fluttering.

"Well?" the man presses. "Come on, now! What's your name, kid? You have family around? What are you doing up there? How the hell did you get up there?"

Laurens opens his mouth to say something, clutching onto his book close to his chest. His feels his cheeks becoming unusually warm.

"I..." Laurens begins, but he can't seem to find the words.

The man grins. "Come on down, now. You'll hurt yourself."

A pause.

"The name's Kinloch, by the way," the man--Kinloch--says. "Francis Kinloch."

Laurens swallows as he seems to relax, his tense shoulders slumping and he smiles wide.

"Laurens," he says. He clears his throat as he presses his lips together. "John...I'm...John Laurens..."

"My!" Kinloch gasps. "John Laurens?"

Laurens nods.

Kinloch grins. "Well, I've heard much about your father. An aspiring man he is. And he's lucky to have a son like you."

Laurens grimaces, though he tries not to show it. Yeah...lucky me...

"What are you uh...what are you doing here, kid?" Kinloch asks.

Laurens scratches the back of his neck. "Oh, um...my father sent me here to Geneva to search for schools. I'll be schooling here for a couple of years too."

"Really?" Kinloch gasps. "Well. I'm schooling here in Geneva."

"Really?" Laurens says, blinking his eyes.

Kinloch nods. "Yep. I'm uh...I'm at Eton."

"Me too," Laurens mutters, his voice feeble and shy.

Kinloch stares at Laurens for a breath before offering his hand. "Why don't you come on down? You'll hurt yourself and I don't want your father blaming me for his injured son."

Laurens couldn't help but giggle as he nods and packs his things away before he climbs on down. He grunts when his feet reaches the sidewalk, dusting his hands together as he turns around to face Kinloch. Kinloch freezes, his eyes widening as he sucks in a breath.

"Mr. Kinloch?" Laurens says after a moment of silence between them.

"My...Laurens...you have...such...such beautiful eyes..." Kinloch whispers. "A rich blue...blue as the sky. I've never seen eyes so beautiful and vibrant as yours."

Laurens feels his cheeks grow warmer as he shifts on his feet. "Um...I...I thank you, sir."

"Please, call me Francis," Kinloch says, extending his hand out. "A pleasure to meet your aquaitence."

Laurens smiles with his lips pressed together as he shakes Kinloch's hand firmly.

"Call me John."

Laurens sighs as he watches Kinloch turn around and guides him throughout the streets of Geneva, giving him the history of some of the buildings, telling him his childhood, about his future. But what Laurens finds most entrancing in Kinloch's apperance, are his eyes. That beautiful shade of green: not to light not to dark. Just right in the middle.

Laurens smiles and nods appropriately duringt he conversation. His heart flutters and his chest squeezes as Kinloch meets eyes with him or when he laughs or smiles.

Laurens doesn't understand this feeling, but he knows for certain that never in his life has ever been so helpless.

[gotxanyxramen]

Congratulations on the milestone you reached! Ive been wanting to ask, but have been busy ;;w;; I hope it’s not to late to send a request! 🙏🏼

Favorite character: Atsushi 🐯🌙

Hobbies: I love to draw (digital and traditional) 24/7 👀, writing about stories I’ve had since middle school, singing, listening to music, stargazing, graphic design; daydreaming (if that counts as a hobby lol)

Places I would like to go: Am introverted so I tend to get mentally drained of places that are overwhelming, crowded, loud (especially when it comes to noise, it’s very stressing and makes me anxious ;;;w;;;). So I tend to like quiet, relaxing atmospheres like a cafe, bookstore, a library, maybe an outdoor mall is also nice, heck my architectural studios were relaxing (even though also stressing cause of work). But I love being surrounded by people I am familiar with, I love listening to them and just the general fun vibe that they show. Sometimes I talk but most the time I’m quiet and laugh at random funny things. I definitely love being outside too, natural settings and earthly greens are beautiful, heck I even enjoyed it when it rained and poured, if the area was shaded. I love being around animals too, so a nice cat cafe would also be a fun fun time 💖

Personality: I am a shy and quiet, petite lass, who usually keeps to herself unless I am familiar with people around me. Only then am I talkative, I’m lively and loud and teasing and overall feeling excited. Only with a few close friends. Am loyal, I’m attentive and listen, a lot, more so than talking sometimes. Am trying to better myself to talk more to people, but I admit I can be hard and draining. I am sensitive, stubborn and creative! I am a INFJ-T, with a 9w1 wing, she/her/they/them petite little lass.

I expect a lot about myself, which puts me in a very rough place when overworking myself to the bone and practically avoiding basic needs or a break. Am trying to get better, especially with a semester out of school. I admit I struggle a lot with depression and anxiety, I try not to show it a lot as I don’t want to concern others. But I try my best to be enlightening, kind and listening to others. I love learning and getting to know people and their interests, culture, religion or ways of thinking about life. I love the deep connections, making the memory and loud laughter with those am fond of.

I hope this is okay! By all means understand if you have too many asks or busy! I appreciate it nonetheless!💖😊 have a beautiful day!

Hi dumpling!!! Thanks for requesting!! And thank for the congrats!!!

Atsushi loves to see your drawings!

He thinks you can draw really well!!!

He wants you to teach him.

So you both will sit down and draw together 😊😊

He like to hear you sing.

sing to him while you both cuddle. PLZ

This boy will MELT

He thinks your really cute when you day dream!

He wonders what your thinking about it

He'll just sit there and admire your cuteness

He'll GLADLY take you stargazing

He loves stargazing

You both will try to count all the stars in the sky

But you are his favorite star

(ramen, that was cringe 😬)

He thinks your brighter than the sun, moon, and all the stars combined.

And he loves that about you

He will gladly take you to a cat cafe.

(just imagine all the cats surrounding him, cuz he's a tiger lol so cute)

He finds the quiet atmosphere calming

And you seem to be enjoying yourself so I makes him feel even better

He loves to pet all the kitty cats

If you like to be outdoors, he'll take you to pretty forests

You both can hike, or just sit and look around to relax

He'll take you to a library

He likes books

You both have little reading dates

If you get a little overwhelmed in a crowded and loud place

He'll find a place that's really quiet.

Just so you can calm down

It's totally fine if you wanna go home after that

Secretly he knows that if you both go home it cuddle time and he lives for that.

He always let's you know that it's fine for you to come to him if you have a problem

He's happy when you're comfortable enough with him that you get loud and lively

He finds it really cute and fun!!

He's glad that you listen to him when he has a problem

If you drain yourself from trying to talk to more people

He'll comfort you and let you know that it's ok to be drained.

He never lets you overwork yourself to much.

He'll never force you to do anything, but will encourage you to take a break

And he'll distract you with cuddles.

If you ever feel sad or anxious, he'll be with you every step of the way.

He will always support through hard times.

He loves that you try to get to know people

Atsushi finds it intriguing

Y'all's relationship is really sweet and supportive

Hope you liked it dumpling!!!

[pulltothelight]

2020 Reylo Fanfic Recap

With just a couple days left of 2020, I wanted to go back and appreciate all the Reylo fic I’ve written this year. Totaling 24 Reylo Centered Fics.

Like His Father’s Dice: *Puts on Tin Foil Hat* Here’s how Ben Solo can still be alive. Remembering how Han Solo’s dice disappeared in his hand gives Ben the key to surviving the battle on Exegol. G, 1,057 words, Complete.

He Gotta Go Check On Her: a sequel to Rey Has a Cold, where Ben crosses the Galaxy to take care of a sick Rey. G, 2,848 words, Complete.

I Licked It, It’s Mine: Senator Benjamin Organa-Solo is prim and proper and polite. Rey, the scavenger his father picked up on Jakku, is everything but. G, 1,884 words, Complete.

Yes I’m Wearing Your Shirt: You’ve Been Mostly Dead: Ben Solo was only mostly dead, and over the past several months since Exegol, his life Force has been recuperating in the Force. Rey is where we last saw her on Tatooine, working through her grief. G, 1,045 words, Complete.

Rey Crashes a Speeder: Rey and Ben are living a happily married life with peace in the Galaxy. That doesn’t mean that accidents don’t happen. G, 1,065 words, Complete.

Abilities Deemed Unnatural:  Post TROS AU where Ben could not save Rey on Exegol. He's left to pick up the pieces. T, 6,341 words, 5/? chapters, WIP.

Broken Hearts and Healing Hands: A 1 shot that turned into a multi-chapter fic, and then post TROS, it got an epilogue. Rey and Ben fix the Legacy Lightsaber. T, 16,049 words, 16 chapters, Complete.

Dismantled: The Supreme Leader learns that the Force does what the Force wants. He decides he will do his best for the Galaxy, and for the little life the Force placed inside him. Mpreg. T, 13,233 words, 6/7 chapters, WIP.

Putting Down Roots: part 3 of my Scenes From a Sweeter Space series,  Set after the events of Playing in the Snow, Ben and Rey find themselves caring for more than just the plants in their greenhouse. G, 1,590 words, Complete.

The Son & Heir of a Shyness: A modern high school AU, where Rey is the new student, and Ben is horribly shy. G, 2,344 words, Complete.

Down From the Tower: A Rapunzel/Tangled AU where Ben is the one with the gorgeous hair and Rey is our scrappy scavenger thief. G, 5,200 words, 1/3 chapters, WIP.

The Memory That Matters:  The last thing Ben remembers is the fight in Snoke's Throne Room aboard the Supremacy. When he wakes up in a med center, he learns that a lot has happened since his last memory. Canon Divergent from TLJ. G, 2,829 words, Complete.

We Don’t Match:  Ben is on an overnight road trip when he stops at a podunk diner in the middle of nowhere, and the light on his soulmate indicator lights up when the waitress brushes his hand. Unfortunately, she's not wearing an indicator herself. G, 7,995 words, Complete. 

Saving What We Love: When the Supremacy and the Legacy Saber were shattered down the middle, Rey dragged an unconscious Ben back with her. Unfortunately, he wakes up in a cell. G, 747 words, Complete.

Padawans of Ren: Luke refused to teach Rey on Ach-to, and so she returned to D'qar to the Resistance, which was still hidden from the First Order, until Kylo Ren shows up with three new faces. G, 1,167 words, Complete.

Entangled Stars:  Dance Stars: Galaxy was the hottest televised dance competition, and the this week's paired dances draw out the most compelling dynamics. G, 889 words, Complete. 

Always a Woman to Me: Finn is missing Rey, where ever she is in the Galaxy, but his emotions pull another someone who is missing Rey to him through the Force. G, 705 words, Complete.

Palpatine is a Liar: A detour to confirm Rey's lineage leads to Palpatine's defeat and Ben's redemption. G, 2,093 words, Complete.

Written in My Hand: Diverging at The Force Awakens, Ben and Rey are soulmates. They know they are because they have the other’s name written on their arms in their handwriting. Knowing that they are soulmates from the very beginning changes everything. G, 9,884 words, 6/? words, WIP.

The Fire of the Sith: Ben and Rey send their adopted children up to summer camp, the same one that they perform at every Fourth of July. Little do they know, Ben's camping years have sprouted up the Knights of Ren, a group of campers who may very well burn the whole camp down. Part 4 of the Scenes From a Sweeter Space Series. G, 6,660 words, Complete. 

Two That Are One: Ben Solo was the avatar, everyone knew it. Except, he couldn't bend all 4 elements. G, 1,637 words, 1/? chapters, WIP.

Celebrating Rey’s Birthday: Ben knew Rey's Birthday, and he made sure to celebrate her, even though she had never celebrated it herself. G, 939 words, Complete.

Chosen: As teenagers just presenting as an alpha and an omega, Ben and Rose promised that if they turned 30 without being mated to someone else, they'd marry each other. It's fine and dandy until Rey, an unmated omega, sets off Ben's rut. T, 10,323 words, 2/4 chapters, WIP.

The Wings We Stole: Before this Earth, before this life, Rey and Ben promised to find each other. They only agreed to do come to earth so they could spend eternity together. They don't think of themselves as angels or saints. They can't make it through this on their own. A Mormon Flavored Modern AU. G, 11,329 words, 8/? chapters, WIP.

BONUS

A Meta: Today on I fricking Love Ben Solo: A meta concerning the fall of Ben Solo. G, 537 words, Complete. 

A GingerRose Fic: The Rose of The Titanic: Armitage Hux had helped design the massive ship, Titanic, and upon touring his pride and joy before the maiden voyage, he runs into the prized mechanic down in the belly of the ship. A GingerRose Titanic AU. G, 3,153 words, 2/4 chapters, WIP.

[youbloodymadgenius]

Photographs, Cuddles and Hot Cocoa (Modern!Ivar x reader)

A/N: Happy birthday, @flowers-in-your-hayr​ 🎉 May your day be the most beautiful! 🌺 Hope you’ll enjoy this silly thing I wrote. And @maggiescarborough​, thank you for planning this special challenge.

Of course, I chose an Ivar's moodboard. And now it’s Christmas in May 🎄

Once again, I wholeheartedly thank you, @inforapound​. You’re the best beta ever. And my friend 🌷

Obviously, the moodboard belongs to you, @flowers-in-your-hayr​ 😉

Summary: You’re tired and wanted to cuddle but Ivar’s got other plans. You’re not thrilled.

Warnings: fluff with no plot; Ivar may be a little OOC, sorry about that.

Words: 2066

"Ivar, where are we?"

Looking around, frowning, you don't even try to hide how annoyed you are, your head resting against the car window. He gives you an amused smile, the pad of his thumb stroking your cheek.

"You don't remember? I thought you'd recognize this place."

He seems slightly disappointed, which doesn't help your mood. Because you should be the disappointed one. Well, you probably are. More disappointed than he is, anyway.

"No, I don't."

He lets his hand fall back into his lap, clearly surprised by your increasingly irritated tone.

"Just look around, love."

"That's what I'm doing, Ivar! I'm not sure what you want me to say. That we are in the middle of nowhere? Okay, we are!" Blowing up, you raise your voice. "I'm not stupid, Ivar! I know we're on the heights of Kattegat, not far from the chalet since we didn't drive long. But we could be anywhere! It's white, white and white! There's snow everywhere!!! How am I supposed to recognize this fucking place, Ivar???"

"Okay, take it easy Y/N!" Smiling, he squeezes your knee. It's infuriating how he can stay calm on the rare occasions when you're the one who gets angry. "Remember, we're on vacation and we've got all the time in the world. Just tell me… what's wrong?"

You soften in spite of yourself when his forget-me-not blue eyes peer into yours.

"Imtiredandwantedtocuddle." You mumble, suddenly shy and embarrassed, sucking on your lower lip.

You're speaking the truth. Christmas Day with Ivar's family had been surprisingly successful. Sigurd had behaved, Aslaug's cooking had been, as usual, scrumptious and the gifts appreciated. Your somewhat grumpy lover had even been cheerful – well, most of the time. So yeah, everything had gone well. But it had been exhausting. Waking up at dawn, baking a cake, a two-hours drive to Kattegat, a whole day of smiling and keeping the conversation going, you and Ivar eventually had arrived at the Lothbrok's chalet very late last night, for a well deserved week's holiday, just the two of you. And this morning, all you wanted to do was cuddle, wrapped in a thick blanket. But here you are now, wearing your brand new snow suit, in the middle of nowhere, at the insistence of Ivar, your stubborn fiancé.

Ivar stifles a chuckle, scrunching up his nose. "Fuck, I love your pouty face, Y/N!"

Sticking your tongue out at him, you can't help but close your eyes, purring with delight as his hands cup your face. You love him so fucking much.

Still, you're not ready to admit defeat. Not just yet. "I'm not that easily bought, Ivar!"

Flashing his trademark smile, he gives a peck on your forehead, laughing. "I know, love!! If I promise tons of cuddles later, will you be less angry?"

"Maybe." A whisper escapes your mouth while a faint smile appears on your face. As much as you'd like to, you can never stay mad at him for long.

"Then I promise." His voice is soft now, his smile genuine, his eyes full of love, and you know he won. You'd do anything for this man, for his happiness.

Intertwining your fingers with his, you bring his hand closer, kissing it gently while releasing a light sigh. "Okay, let's start again." You stop, glancing around one more time. When you speak again, there's not the slightest hint of annoyance in your voice. "Mind telling me where we are? Because I swear to you, I don't have a clue."

Leaning forward, Ivar points at a snowy tree out on the right side of the car. "Doesn't that oak remind you of anything? Really?" Frowning, he looks truly astounded, maybe disappointed too. Realizing that you probably unwillingly hurt his feelings, you stare out at the winter scenery, paying particular attention to the majestic old tree. And it just hits you. Shit.

"Oh gods Ivar, I'm so sorry… Of course I know where we are. But you know, with all that snow, I had no bearings. Yet I should have known. Oh gods, I can't believe I didn't recognize…" Stopping your useless rambling, you can't help but cringe, mentally scolding yourself. Your hand grazes his cheek, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. Swallowing hard, you lower your gaze, slightly ashamed. "I'm so sorry, Ivar. That's our tree."

Your tree, which regally overlooks a small pond. This is your little paradise. Your secret place, where you first kissed eight years ago, after he gave himself to you like never before, revealing all his fears and insecurities. Your secret place, where he proposed to you last summer, crying in your arms, gobsmacked that you said yes.

"Yes, our tree." Smiling softly, Ivar grabs his camera from the back seat. "I'm glad your memory returned, I was beginning to wonder if this place meant as much to you as it did to me." He winks at you, but you can see concern in his eyes. Ivar will never be completely sure of your love, no matter what you say or do, because he thinks he doesn't deserve it.

"It's the best place in the whole world, Ivar." You reassure him, your hand barely squeezing his thigh. "I'll gladly forego a long cuddle session if it means spending an hour here with you." Tilting your head, you reach out, fingers skimming his jaw, before kissing him tenderly. You're the first to pull away, looking intently into his eyes. "Now tell me, my love, why did you choose to come here today? If this is about asking me to marry you, you remember I already said yes, right?" Chuckling, you pepper light kisses over his face as he wraps his arm around your waist, drawing you closer.

"Actually, I've wanted to take pictures here during winter for a long time." Backing up just enough to show you his camera, he gives you one last peck on the lips. "I've never had the chance since we usually only come here in July or August. So yeah…", he shrugs, looking sorry, "that's why I rushed you a little bit this morning. But just look…" Getting excited, he gestures wildly, showing you the scenery around you. "All this fresh snow, it's beautiful. And the brightness today is amazing. A perfect day for perfect pictures. It would have been a shame not to come."

His words bring a broad smile to your face. You love seeing him like this, passionate and committed. Photography is his happy bubble. A world where his legs don't matter, where he doesn't have to compete against his brothers. A world which taught him patience. And gods, he's good at it! One day his pictures will be exhibited, you're sure of it.

Scratching the back of his neck, he scowls for a second, his hand squeezing yours. "I realize just now that it was silly to bring you here. You could have stayed at the chalet. Shit Y/N, I'm sorry. Do you want to wait for me here? You could stay in the car, so you won't get cold. I promise to be quick. What do you say?"

Shaking your head, you put on your woollen gloves, your pompon beanie already on your head. "No way, Ivar. Of course I'm coming with you."

Your hand on the door handle, you give him a questioning look. "Where do you want to go? At the risk of repeating myself, there's snow everywhere."

"I know that," he giggles at your obvious, rolling his eyes. "We'll go to the pond of course, where else?"

Doing a double take, you stare wide-eyed at him. "To the… pond?" Your high-pitched tone giving away your unbelief, you see Ivar furrowing his brows.

When he speaks again, it's with an expressionless face, apprehension clear in his voice. "That's what I said, yes. Is there a problem?"

A problem? Of course there is. The truth is, there is a problem. A long list of problems.

First, walking in the snow is always challenging for Ivar, his leg braces and his crutch. And right now, even the wheelchair friendly path leading to the pond is nonexistent, covered with a thick layer of snow.

Second, it's too cold out here. Too cold for his legs, which will stiffen in no time, causing him terrible pain.

Third, he woke up this morning unwell, wincing, swallowing with his orange juice a double dose of painkillers while complaining about how the previous day had been stressful and tiring.

You're about to talk, to explain, when you catch his pleading eyes. He knows exactly what you're thinking. There isn't a sound out of him, but it's not necessary, you can't miss the silent question in his gaze. “Please. Don't."

Overwhelmed with mixed feelings, you remain silent for a minute. You hate seeing him in pain, struggling to take a step and knowing he'll pay for it later makes you sick. Yet, you don't want to be the one clipping his wings. You can't be the one restraining him. You're his lover, not his mother. Your task is to trust him, be there for him no matter what, not to coddle him. You have to remember that your high school sweetheart is not as reckless as he used to be. He knows his limitations as well as his abilities. He's learned not to overwork himself.

Biting your lip, you release a shaky breath. "I won't." Your whispered answer to the question he didn't ask brings a faint smile to his face. He nods, closing his eyes for an instant, relief written all over his face. "Thank you."

***

"I'll be right there, love." Leaning heavily on his crutch, Ivar slowly crosses the kitchen, heading to the open-plan lounge, two mugs of cocoa in his free hand.

Getting up off the couch, you rush to him, a warm smile on your lips. "I got them." Reaching out, you quickly grasp the cups, putting them on the coffee table before returning to him.

As soon as you slip your hand on his waist, he wraps his arm around your shoulders, a gesture expressing a sign of affection as much as the need to be helped.

He's in pain and exhausted. You know it, you see it but it was worth it. His radiant face, his joyful exclamations, his childish enthusiasm were worth it. Watching him taking pictures for almost two hours, his eyes full of stars, raving about the pristine white landscape was worth it.

"Here, careful." You don't let go of his arm until he sits down, cursing under his breath. "Don't tell me 'I told you so', please,” he mumbles, hiding a wince as best as he can.

Kissing his forehead, you laugh, shaking your head, “How could I? I've told you absolutely nothing,” before grazing his left leg. "May I take off your braces?" Knowing that he trusts you and he won't mind, you get to work right away, gently removing the heavy contraptions. He gives you a grateful smile as you carefully lift his legs, helping him to settle on the wide couch before snuggling against him, the both of you tucked up under a fleece blanket.

The crackling fire, the invigorating cocoa, the warmth of your man, the love you feel, your two beings radiating happiness and those cuddles you were craving for, everything is perfect.

You're dozing off when Ivar breaks the silence, his fingers brushing your side. "How about a bath?" You lazily raise your head, yawning and stretching. "Hmm… A relaxing bath… Sounds like a good idea,” you say, as your hand lightly rubs his thigh, feeling each and every knot.

Sighing with relief, Ivar sits quietly for a while before grabbing your wrist, his suddenly husky voice startling you. "No… not necessarily relaxing… See… that's what…" sucking on your earlobe, he's hard to understand as he puts your hand on his crotch, "… I was thinking about."

Bursting out laughing, you playfully squeeze his cock. "Is that so? Well, all you can think about is sex, right?"

Hand on his chest, Ivar gasps, playing that he’s offended, making you laugh even more. "How can you think so little of me? Of course not! All I can think about is you, Y/N. I just can't help it, you're so beautiful. And so fucking perfect!"

Gods. This is your man. And he's so fucking perfect too!

🛡⚔️🛡

@honestsycrets​ @lisinfleur​ @saldelys​ @waiting4inspiration​ @hecohansen31​ @a-mess-of-fandoms​ @gearhead66​ @readsalot73​ @lonewolf471​ @milkkygirls​ @ivarthebloodyking​ @fuckindiva​ @tgrrose​ @flowers-in-your-hayr​ @maggiescarborough​

[official-weasley]

The Irreplaceable Charlie Weasley: Pt. 1, Ch. 5

PART 1: WHERE IT ALL BEGAN Chapter 5 - Saving a Weasley

Nova

I felt so bad for Penny having to stay behind and clean the slugs that were without a doubt brought to the classroom by Tonks when she went to the bathroom and were the jelly things hitting the floor.

I wanted to find Tulip and Tonks as soon as possible as I couldn't help but be a bit angry with them, my head still hurting.

I was almost at the Great Hall when I heard someone calling me.

“Nova, over here!” I turned around and saw Tonks and Tulip waving at me.

“Where's Penny?” Asked Tulip, oblivious.

“She got detention because of your slugs!” I said, trying to control my voice. Tonks had to bit her lip no to burst out laughing as I continued.

“I stood up and stepped on one of them and fell flat on my back. Snape, of course, noticed at once and since the slugs made their way under our table and Penny and I were the only ones left in the classroom, he blamed her, took 20 points from Hufflepuff, and made her clean the mess all by herself! I tried defending her but Snape threatened me with detention as well so Penny nudged me to leave.” Seeing that I was angry, massaging the bump on my head, Tulip and Tonks' faces changed.

“Blimey Nova, I'm sorry.” Tonks said sincerely. “Are you going to be okay or should we go to the Hospital Wing just in case?” She added.

“I'll be fine. And it should be Penny you should apologize to because I don't want to know how mad she is at you! Not only is Potions her favorite subject and she asked you not to pull any pranks on the first day, but you also got her in detention on the first day of school!”

“Tonks, I think Nova is right. Why don't we go back to the Dungeons and tell Snape the truth.” I could see Tulip felt really bad, just for thinking slugs in the Potions classroom were funny.

“Alright, alright. You girls will make me a better person if this continues!” She groaned but Tulip and I knew she liked that we made her responsible for her actions.

“Are you coming with, Nova?” Tulip asked me as I was about to head in the other direction.

“Are you kidding? I don't want to be anywhere near Snape until our next lesson on Thursday!” I exclaimed. “I think I am going to the Courtyard to draw. Meet you at dinner?”

“See you later!” They both said and ran towards the Dungeons.

It was weird going somewhere alone. I know I have only been at Hogwarts for 3 days but I always had at least one of the girls with me. I was debating between the Owlery or the Courtyard to relax and draw. I decided to go to the Owlery to check if Pip was sleeping.

It didn't surprise me that the second I stepped in, he was already on my shoulder, hooting happily and nibbling my ear, probably to thank me for the visit.

“What do you say we go to the Courtyard and I draw you, you beautiful bird?” Pip hooted ever so loudly, moved from my shoulder to my arm and we made our way down the stairs.

I was happy it wasn't as full with students as I thought it would be since there wasn't a cloud in the sky.

I sat down on one of the stone benches, putting Pip and my bag down and taking out my drawing book.

“Oh, how I've missed you!” I whispered to the notebook and hugged it slightly. I haven't drawn for about 4 days and I was angry at myself for it.

I sat on the grass next to the bench rather than on it because it was easier for me to use the bench for a table and Pip positioned himself so well as if he was posing.

“Good boy, Pip! Now stay still so that I can at least make a good sketch.” Pip hooted at me and returned to his posing. I chuckled as I took out my brand new pencils, bought by my dad as a 'you're going to Hogwarts and I am proud of you' gift.

It felt like ages to complete the sketch as Pip constantly wanted to peek and see if his portrait was done yet. “I told you to stand still. The more you act like a statue the quicker I can draw you.” I explained to which he replied with a single 'hoot'.

As I started to draw details on the feathers, I heard a rather mean laugh a little away to my left. At first, I didn't put any attention to it.

“Oh, look at that. What a loser!” I couldn't help to overhear a girl say. I tried to mind my own business and went back to drawing.

“What are you doing? Are you reading?” The girl continued, in a baby type of tone.

“And look how old his book is, it's going to fall apart any second now, ha!” A boy spoke this time.

“What's the matter, Weasley? Can't afford a new book and you have to reread an old one?” As the third voice spoke I turned around to see what was going on. I saw 3 Slytherin students that looked at least 2 years older than me standing in front of a boy with a frightened look on his face, clutching the book that I assumed they were mocking him for.

The one on the left was probably shorter than me. She had long black hair, made into a braid on each side. She had an upward crooked nose so that I could see her non-existent brain. The one on the other side was the only boy in the group. He looked fairly normal except for the fact that he was so large that if someone pushed him right at that moment, he would've rolled straight out of the Courtyard. The one in the middle, for which I assumed was the one who started to mock the boy was tall, slim, with thin rat-colored hair that was so greasy that if the wind blew, it wouldn't even move. She had pimples all over her face; one so big that it could easily be mistaken for a boil.

Then I looked harder at the boy. He was the freckled Gryffindor that's in my year! He looked so uncomfortable, looking around to see how he could escape the trio that now surrounded him. He kept pressing his book to his stomach and I could see he would do anything so that they wouldn't take it.

“What, not going to say anything?” The fat boy asked.

“Your parents aren't able to buy you a new one? Are they too poor, Weasley?” Mocked the greasy-haired girl.

“Leave him alone!” Before I realized that the voice came from my mouth I was already on my way towards them. Raising my hand at Pip to make him stay on the bench.

“A First Year defending a First Year. See this Shmeasley, this is your protection!” The greaseball said as all three of them burst out laughing, holding their stomachs.

“That's right, I am a First Year!” I almost shouted at them now, coming even closer. I put my hand in my pocket, trying to grab my wand as I saw their faces get even angrier for disturbing their bullying but I reached for an empty pocket as I put the wand in my bag that stayed with Pip. But that didn't stop me from talking more. “Maybe you should pick on someone your own size, or better yet, your own age!” They laughed at me even more now.

“What are you five? You're sure acting like it.” I continued. Apparently, this was the last straw, as their faces frowned so much from anger that I thought one of the pimples from the girl in the middle was going to burst straight in my face.

“Zip it Ravenclaw! What are you going to do to us? We are smarter than you AND you are outnumbered!” Yelled the boy now as they simultaneously pulled out their wands.

“Flipendo!” Yelled one of the girls. I couldn't see as I closed my eyes but nothing happened. I opened them slowly and all I could see was an emerald cloak in front of me. It was Professor McGonagall and she had to block the spell from hitting me. I stepped on her left side, still hiding a little behind her cloak.

The freckled boy was now staring at her with an opened mouth.

“Miss Bellgrim, Miss Tailbottom, and Mister Morgan, what do you think you are doing!?” She yelled at them, her eyes filled with such fury that I thought I could see little lightning bolts shoot from them. Both the Gryffindor boy and I chuckled when Professor McGonagall said 'Tailbottom'. “Attacking a First Year without their wand! Explain yourself!” She shouted further.

“I...we...well.” The pimpled girl wasn't so loud now.

“I thought you had no explanation for such act of foolishness. 30 points will be taken from Slytherin and I will make sure your Head of House picks good and long detentions for you!” Said Professor McGonagall.

“30 points?” Exasperated the boy, the Professor called Mister Morgan.

“Each!” Professor said, moving her hand to indicate that they should get out of her sight. The trio nodded and hurried from the Courtyard. She then turned to me.

“Are you okay, Miss Blackwood? Why were they trying to duel you?” She asked, concerned.

“They were being rude to him,” I said and nudged my head to the freckled boy, “and I wanted to help. They were really mean to him, Professor.” Her expression softened.

“You stood up to three Four Years to help a fellow First Year?” She asked gently. “The Sorting Hat was right thinking to put you in Gryffindor, you are as brave as you are foolish, Miss Blackwood.” She added.

“If I haven't blocked that spell in time you would've been in the Hospital Wing right about now.” She continued, worry in her voice.

“50 points to Ravenclaw for such braveness and the will to help a fellow student. She then turned to the redhead boy. “Are you alright, Mr. Weasley?” The boy just nodded. She examined us both from head to toe. “Please be careful, Miss Blackwood, Mr. Weasely. And if this happens again, come straight to me. That means you too.” She looked at me again and walked away.

The boy with red hair finally closed his mouth as he realized it was all over. He looked at me, still sitting on the ground, holding his book. “Thank you so much for that. I thought they were going to take my book this time.” He said sadly.

“This time? This wasn't the first time?” I asked puzzled.

“No,” the boy said, lowering his head, “it happened on the train too. I was alone in a compartment, you know reading about Dragons,” he said casually as all anybody ever really does is read about Dragons, “and they came in and started picking on me. Thank Merlin that my brother Bill came to see me and he shooed them away. He then stayed with me just to be sure that they wouldn't come back.” He said and smiled a bit, reminiscing on the memory.

Pip decided that I have left him alone for far too long and he flew on my shoulder and hooted loudly in my ear.

“Is he yours?” The boy asked excitedly.

“Yes, would you like him on your arm?” I asked and sat next to him. I then nudged Pip from my shoulder and tapped on the boy's arm to indicate that he should sit there.

“Wow, she is beautiful. We have a family owl, Errol, but she is more clumsy than my younger brother Ron.” He said as he stared at Pip with amazement.

“It's a he actually and his name is Pip.” I smiled.

“Such a cool name!” He finally looked at me. “I'm Charlie by the way. And in case you haven't heard those Slytherins shout my last name before, it's Weasley. Charlie Weasley.” He extended his hand to me with a look of embarrassment on his face due to what happened earlier.

“I'm Nova Blackwood.” I shook his hand. Pip suddenly flew from Charlie's arm, back to the bench where all my stuff was still laying around. He flew back with everything in my bag and dropped it right in front of us. My drawing notebook flew out of the bag as it hit the floor and opened several pages in, revealing a drawing inspired by my Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Thembook.

“Woah, that's the Common Welsh Green!” Charlie said in awe. “Did you draw this?”

“Yes.” I said proudly.

“Wow, you are really talented. Would you mind?” He asked, shaking my book, indicating if he could go through my drawings. I nodded.

I loved how careful he was while turning the pages. Sometimes he murmured something to himself. He gasped and let out a little squeak every time there was a drawing of a Dragon.

When he was done, he gently closed the notebook, turned to me and gave it back. “Thank you for this. You standing up to those bullies and letting me see all these beautiful creatures you've drawn is the best thing that happened to me so far at school.”

“But the year has just begun.” I said, smiling.

“Unless I see a real Dragon at Hogwarts, nothing can top this.” He smiled back. “Want to see my book?” He offered. “It's about Dragons but it's very old.” Of course, it's about Dragons, I thought.

“I don't mind. The older the book the better the smell and more valuable it is.” I said genuinely.

“I forgot you're a Ravenclaw.” He chuckled and opened the book.

He showed me so many different Dragon species that I haven't even heard of. The illustrations in the book were so beautiful that I couldn't stop admiring them. I don't know what holes those Slytherins had in their brains but to me, this was the best book I have ever come upon.

He then told me that his dream is to work with Dragons and that, even though very ambitious, would like to get a job in the Romanian Dragon Sanctuary. He told me that he has 6 siblings, about which I gasped and said that he is the second child in the family.

“My favorite Dragon is the Hebridean Black. What's yours?” He said, excited. “Oh, don't answer that, I can't expect everyone has a favorite Dragon like me.” He lowered his head.

“Chinese Fireball.” I said before he could say another word. “Has been since I first saw it in the Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. My dad bought me the book. He was hoping it would shut me up about wanting to own a Chimera and a Fire Salamander.” I chuckled.

“You wanted to have a Chimera?” He laughed but I could see he was imagining having one too.

Before we could go back to his book, a voice called for Charlie.

“Charlie?! Charl... there you are! I was worried sick. Why aren't you at dinner? You know that I promised mum I would look after you!” The boy with longish red hair said after finding us, still in the same spot as before. From what Charlie told me, I assumed that was his older brother Bill, who was currently in his Third Year.

“I'm sorry, Bill!” Apologized Charlie. “I was showing Nova my book after she saved me from those Slytherins again.” Charlie said thankfully.

“Those Slyth...again? Charlie, we have to tell Professor McGonagall now!” Bill was furious.

“Oh, I don't think that will be necessary.” Grinned Charlie as he told his brother how I intervened, how McGonagall saved me from the Knockback Jinx, and how they lost the Slytherins House 90 points and I gained Ravenclaw 50.

“What is your name?” He looked at me astonished that I stood up to 3 Slytherins much older than me just to help his brother.

“My name is Nova Blackwood.” I said as I shook his hand.

“Thank you Nova for saving my brother. I don't even want to imagine what they could do to him if you weren't around.” He said with a worried face.

“Bill!” Said Charlie, obviously embarrassed as the pink hue between his freckles started to show. “You are starting to sound like mum.” He mocked him to take attention off himself.

“You know what mum would have done to me if something ought to happen to you. I would receive a Howler and then the whole school would know I'm a bad brother.” Bill defended himself.

“Get off it Bill, you're the best brother!” Charlie said and smiled at him. Bill smiled back and ruffled Charlie's hair.

“Now, as much as I like that you are making friends Charlie, I would like for you two to go to the Great Hall and get some dinner before it's too late.” Bill said, helping us get up.

I turned to Pip and told him to go get some rest in the Owlery. Bill accompanied me and Charlie to the Great Hall. There he thanked me again for helping his little brother. “See you around, Nova. Was nice to meet you!” He ruffled Charlie's hair again and went towards the Gryffindor Tower.

Charlie and I entered the Great Hall together, which by now was half empty since dinner time was almost over. Charlie was called over to the Gryffindor Table by that boy who could barely see through his thick black hair. He turned to me.

“Nova, thank you again. I had so much fun with you!” He said and to my surprise gave me a hug. “We'll see each other around, we have a lot of classes together, we can hang out then.” He said, rather excited and hurried to the Gryffindor Table.

I looked around and saw a blond, pink, and redhead at the Ravenclaw Table. I hurried to the girls and sat down.

“Blimey Nova, where have you been?” Tonks said.

“We got worried that you had to go to the Hospital Wing because of your fall.” Added Penny.

“I almost ended up at the Hospital Wing, but not because of the fall.” I said and they gasped.

I then told them all about how those Slytherins attacked Charlie and how I forgot my wand in my bag, to which Tulip commented that it can happen to anyone. I told them how McGonagal protected me from the Knockback Jinx to which they stared at me with opened mouths. I then told them all about Charlie and how he is as excited about Care of Magical Creatures as I am. Tonks murmured something about how we are all too excited for school and we laughed at her comment.

When I finished my story Penny told me that Tonks and Tulip apologized to her and that they wanted to take full responsibility for what happened in Potions class but Snape wouldn't let them. To my surprise, Tulip said that Penny thanked them both as her detention with Snape enabled her to show him her knowledge of potions and that he gave Hufflepuff 5 points for knowing all the potions she had to sort.

Of course, she is confident that she will never receive such detention again as Snape soon realized that it wasn't a punishment for her at all.

While lying in bed that night, I couldn't believe the day I had. The year has hardly started and I was having so much fun. I would even dare to say that I have made a new friend and I couldn't believe how much we had in common. Nobody I knew loved animals as much as I did, not even my aunt who was breeding Abraxans. Nobody, until I've met Charlie.