#and i can already tell that one joke is gonna overshadow so much of the movie 😭

[steveharrington]

like i’m seeing criticisms that say the menu’s entire thesis is just “rich people bad” which to me is just not true….each table has a specific failing that goes beyond just being rich, that explains how their wealth has influenced their behavior. tyler entrenches himself in food culture and tells erin repeatedly that she doesn’t get it, but he can’t make a single dish himself because his supposed love of food is entirely upheld by other people making it for him. the food critic sees herself as the patron saint of chef slowik’s restaurant because she gave him a good review years back, but she also destroyed other chefs livelihood for the sake of content. she wants credit for the good, but removes herself from blame for the bad. the business guys think that their connection to their boss, who they think is owed credit for keeping the restaurant open while also providing his inexperienced input, makes them above everyone else. the married couple has spent $1500 11 times to eat there, but they can’t name a single dish they’ve eaten. and yes these distinctions are made by class, but they’re specific and the each make a certain point about the way art is removed from the context of its creator (tyler) or torn apart for content (the critic) or used to promote a soulless business venture (business dudes) or consumed only for appearance (the married couple) and to me that’s so much more than “rich people bad”

#the menu spoilers #and while yeah the student loans joke Did fall into that very simplistic rich people are bad because they’re rich idea #it was one joke among several very well thought out plot points #and i can already tell that one joke is gonna overshadow so much of the movie 😭 #BUT IT WAS FUNNY

[redheadspark]

can I request "come on, it's gonna be fun" and "there's no way in hell i'm doing that" with Eddie Munson?

I know most people disagree but I see Eddie would be the sunshine in the relationship. I just want to see him loving making the grumpy reader laugh and have fun

A/N - Perfect for Eddie! Thanks for requesting this, anon!

Chemistry

Summary - Eddie knows how to get you out of your funk with chemistry

Warnings - Nothing but fluff

“Come on, think about it,”

“I have, and I still say no!”

“Babe!”

“Don’t babe me!” 

Eddie snorted as he hopped down from sitting on top of the picnic table, you thumbing through your chemistry text book while scribbling down some notes that you were needing to take for the upcoming test.  The last thing you wanted to do was to be distracted and not get a passing grade since this class was already kicking your ass.  So your boyfriend trying to distract you was enough to made you rip your hair out, but you never could with Eddie.

Even when he was a handful at times, he was your handful.

“Look,” he said as he pushed the textbook out of the way from you, to which you were glaring at him as he cocked his head at you with his signature grin, “You’re gonna break your brain with all the reading you’re doing on a subject you already know,”

“You can’t break your brain,” You corrected him in a huff as his chuckled.

“Say that to the horror movies,” He joked, then swiping the notebook away before you could grab it back,”You’re gonna ace the test!  You’re a shore in for getting the best grade.”

“O’Malley’s tough, Eddie,” you reasoned, reaching out again for the notebook but was foiled when he yanked it away.

“He’s a dick…with a small one at that,” he replied as you slightly smiled, “And that is the actual reason why you need to take a break….and come to one session,”

You glared, “I already said no,”

“Come on, it’s gonna be fun,” He explained as he tilted his head at him.  Eddie had a lot of great traits about him, though it was overshadowed by his reputation at school or even in all of Hawkins.   He was kind, especially to those who were at the bottom of the social totem pole like he was.  Eddie was smart, such a contrast to his laid back personality, but he was intelligent and was passing most of his classes with ease.  

Most of all, Eddie had a heart.  His heart was always massive and tender, never calloused and hardened from past heartbreak or betrayal.  No matter if he wore metal shirts or seemed like a freak on the outside, you saw the goodness in him and the love he would give.  You were one of the very few people he would pour his love out for and still had enough for himself, true boyfriend at heart and someone who took care of you when you need a break.  

Just like now with your chemistry.

“There’s no way in hell I’m doing that,” you wanted him as you knew what he was talking about.  But Eddie simply smiled and wrapped an arm around your shoulder to tuck you in a bit more against his side.  You could breathe in the weed he smoked before he came out here to ditch his study hall hour along with the small scent of leather thanks to his leather jacket and the leather seats in his van.  Even the softness of his hair, thanks to the shampoo you got him a week back to help with the curls, made your head swim for a moment as he was peering at you with his massive brown eyes.

“You need to have some fun, and I love you too much to let yourself get burned out over something as simple as chemistry,” He explained as he kissed the tip of your nose.  You knew he was telling the truth and you hated admitting he was right.  When it came to styling and burning out, both you and Eddie were guilty of doing that every once in a while.  There was no doubt that you both were solid students but tests and exams got the best of you from time to time.  

When one was struggling, the other would catch them.  You’ve helped Eddie plenty of times when he was struggling in math or with Social Studies, rubbing his back and making him get plenty of rest when he was straining in his back and behind his eyes. He would push away the science and English books from you when you were on the verge of tears and make you something good to eat, or mostly hearty so to speak. 

Eddie’s heart was always in the right place, and you felt it then.

“Fine,” You replied, seeing his grin go massive as he peppered you with kisses all over your cheeks, “Easy there, Eds!  I’m only going to watch, got it!”

“Not a problem, sweetheart!” He replied, planting one more big kiss on your lips as you squirmed and giggled.  He pulled away and looked rather victorious as you leaned into his hold, “You’re gonna love it!  I'm surprised you’ve never come to a meeting before anywho,”

“It’s your thing, Eddie.  I never wanted to interfere with it,” You reasoned, yet Eddie rolled his eyes playfully and shook his head.

“You’re always welcome, and I think you’re gonna thoroughly enjoy it.  Trust me, babe.”

Sure enough, Eddie watched from his Dungeon Master Throne as you rolled the dice and cheered in victory while the rest of Hellfire Club looked defeated.  

The End.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x oc #fanfiction #writing #stranger things #stranger things 4 #stranger things fanfiction

[matcha-meow]

TITLE: A Letter of Recommendation from Baji Keisuke PAIRING: BAJI KEISUKE / MATSUNO CHIFUYU SUMMARY: “M’kay.”

But the mild reaction from Mitsuya gets overshadowed by his next announcement, completely shocking the two members standing front and center.

“The guy dating Baji,” says Mitsuya, with a smile, “that’s all I need to know.”

OR

Baji can’t stop talking about Chifuyu to the Toman members - which leads to a misunderstanding that the both of them are dating.

TR Spin-Off Chapter 14: The executive meeting is actually an intervention for Baji Keisuke.

read it on AO3 or read below

You know that part in the latest chapter of the spinoff where Baji brings Chifuyu to the executive meeting in Toman, but they all know who Chifuyu is already? It’s pretty obvious that Baji must be talking nonstop about Chifuyu to everyone…

Also this is very much a crack fic.

I wrote this during my lunch break after getting a gift fic from Pau, and then edited it between work meetings - which means I wrote it very, very quickly and then edited it very, very not at all. If you see any typos, no you don’t.

A Letter of Recommendation from Baji Keisuke

DRAKEN

“And he goes ‘What’s this character? You wrote it wrong.’ ”

Keisuke clearly remembers the way Chifuyu sat down in front of him, cocky at first like he was trying to pick a fight - but instead picked his pencil up and showed Keisuke how to write the letter.

“I thought he was gonna be an ass about it, but he was actually-”

Next to him, Draken pauses his game, a surprised look on his face. He had been listening to Keisuke recount the story without any real interest, but now his hand sharply cuts through air, indicating he needs Keisuke to stop talking immediately. 

“Wait, you don’t…know how to spell Kazutora’s name?”

Keisuke shrugs.

“Anyways he showed me how to write it - the character for tiger. I almost got it right.” - No he didn’t. - “So I think he’s a pretty good guy. Helps those in need, the type of person who probably can’t stay out of other people’s business.”

Draken raises his eyebrow. “Are you complimenting him or insulting him?”

“I’m just saying,” postures Keisuke defensively, “that I met this guy who helped me out. Thought it was gonna be a one time thing. But then I got to pay him back right after!”

He punches Draken’s shoulder like they’re in on a joke together. Draken doesn’t seem as amused, but he also doesn’t go back to his game. Intent now on paying attention to Keisuke’s weird tale.

“Cause as I was mailing the letter, I saw him getting jumped by all these punks! And one of them had a weapon - real fucking shitheads!” Keisuke gets heated at this part, remembering how he ran into the other boy being surrounded by a bunch of older kids in an abandoned alleyway.

“Since Chifuyu is just one guy and he’s unarmed, you know?” Here Keisuke starts imitating the fight, providing sound effects as he alternates his fists. “So I just start fightin’. Pow. Pow. Returned the favor and saved his ass and everything. He was grateful as fuck.”

Draken nods along because he can see that. 

“Did you beat him up afterwards, like you did with Kazutora?”

Keisuke scratches the back of his head, confused. “Huh? No, I invited him back to my place for dinner. It was just instant noodles, though. Nothing fancy.”

Draken stares at him.

For a while, no one says anything.

“Oh…so it’s like that,” his friend says cryptically. “I was wondering where this story was going.”

Keisuke isn’t sure what he means by that, cause the story isn’t even done yet. 

“Anyways, he wanted to join Toman afterwards, but I said “No way, asshole!” cause I don’t wanna keep taking care of him.” Keisuke signs, irritated at the memory. “He seems too much of a handful. I don’t need that kinda guy tying me down.”

“Or maybe you’re just trying to keep him to yourself,” mutters Draken, unpausing his game.

MIKEY

“And this guy is just fuckin’ following me around school everyday and he keeps trying to pick fights with others and then telling me about it for some reason.”

He’s not sure if Mikey is listening or not. He seems really focused on something, but it might just be the taiyaki he’s eating. 

“Then one day, he says - ‘just beat me up until you understand my feelings.’ ” Keisuke pauses here. He thinks maybe he got the wording wrong, but it doesn’t matter. “So I’m like ok, and then I beat him up.”

Mikey takes a bite of his snack and then says, “Nice.”

“But then I felt bad cause he was on the ground and it was raining and I didn’t wanna leave him there…” Keisuke rolls his eyes, annoyed at himself, “and he lives three floors below me so I carried him home-”

“Wait, wait, wait- I thought you said you were tired of that guy?”

“I mean yeah, he’s so fucking annoying.”

“Then why didn’t you just leave his ass?”

Keisuke opens his mouth. Then he closes it.

“His ass was gonna get wet, it was raining, remember?”

Mikey doesn’t look impressed. But he motions him to continue with his story, the taiyaki flopping in the air.

“Right so, after that, I let him sleep it off. Cause he really took a beating from me. Hella persistent, that guy. Can’t shake him. I’ve tried. Then when he finally wakes up I think, fine, ok. Just this one time! I’ll take you on my bike and-”

“Wait, you let him ride your bike? ”

“Yeah, cause it was just easier that way if we were both going to the meeting-”

“You- you brought him to a Toman meeting?! ”

“Why do you keep interrupting me? Anyways he was all-”

But Keisuke doesn’t get to finish because Mikey shoves his second taiyaki in front of his face, almost exasperated.

“God, Ken-chin was right. ” He says, then shakes the dessert insistently until Keisuke takes it, albeit hesitantly since Mikey doesn’t normally share his snacks.

“Uh…thanks?”

“It’s cream flavored,” says Mikey.

“What kind?”

His friend smirks, “Whipped.”

SMILEY

“Chifuyu’s hair was really fucking bothering me so I told him to change it.”

Nahoya looks like he wants to be anywhere but here.

“Why are you telling me this?”

Keisuke gestures between the two of them, like there’s some kind of relevant fact keeping them bound in this conversation.

“Cause you said you wanted straight hair?”

“I just- I just said one thing about my hair! Oh my god!” He throws his arms above his head, waving them angrily. “Why do you always keep making it about Chifuyu?!” 

The other boy is already walking away.

“Hey!” Keisuke yells. “He changed his hairstyle, alright?! So if you just let me finish my goddamn story - I was trying to say that he was able to change his whole lifestyle and everything, so you can do it too if you want! Live out your dreams or whatever!”

“More like your delusions,” scoffs Nahoya. “Alright, which one of you guys is running the betting pool right now?”

ANGRY

“So he just fucking jumps off the roof, yeah? The fuckin’ balls on him. And then he takes out all these guys like it’s nothing. After that he-”

Unlike his brother, Souya is frozen in place, too awkward to outright get up and leave. 

“That’s got to be four floors or something, how did he land? Is he part cat?” Keisuke snaps his finger at the discovery. “He hangs out with a lot of cats. You think maybe he learned from them? Like maybe he’s a cat boy?”

“I think,” says Souya slowly, “that you don’t know what the meaning of a cat boy is...”

“Huh? No way. He’s definitely a cat boy. He loves cats. He owns one too, Peke J, I named him. He’s like our son.”

From somewhere behind them, Souya’s brother puts more money down on the table.

MITSUYA

“Right, so I need you to make another uniform before our next First Division meeting.”

Mitsuya nods. “You mean for your friend, Ryusei? His jacket buttons were getting worn out, I remember you mentioning that before.”

Keisuke laughs sheepishly. “Ah, I meant another one - it’s for Chifuyu. Sorry I forgot to tell ya, I let him join after all and he’s been saying how he really wants to wear the uniform.” 

The boy in front of him slowly brings his hands together, resting his chin on them, and then takes in a deep breath.

“For Chifuyu…”

“Yeah, is that gonna be ok? You got enough time or…?”

Mitsuya levels him with a piercing gaze. 

“Why couldn’t you have asked me this last week?”

Keisuke sucks the air in between his teeth. “Sorry man, I know it’s really short notice. That’s my bad, but I just forgot about it.”

He watches as Mitsuya digs out his wallet. “I really, really, wish you had remembered to ask earlier.” He’s a little confused as Mitsuya irritatedly pulls a stack of yen out, randomly. “If only you had just asked me - one week earlier.” 

Draken appears out of nowhere to collect the cash, a grin wide on his face. 

He decides not to question this, since there’s a more pressing issue at hand.

“Look, if you can’t do it, then it’s fine-”

“I can do it,” says Mitsuya, waving him off dismissively. “It’ll only take me a day.”

“Oh, what was the problem then?” Keisuke looks confused at the whole exchange. He feels like maybe he’s being kept in the dark about something. How come people are always passing money around, especially near him, nowadays? And what’s with all these annoyed looks every time he speaks?

Mitsuya rubs his temples. “I need to change my bets.” 

PAH-CHIN

“So Chifuyu helped my mom move all our stupid furniture around, yesterday and-”

Pah leans back into his seat, resigned. “I get it, huh, it’s my turn today.”

“Anyways,” Keisuke claps his hands. “What do you know about Feng Shui? You said your family was in the whole house thing? What’s Feng Shui supposed to be like for apartments, cause I think maybe Chifuyu might have done it wrong...”

“Feng Shui isn’t real dude,” says Pah, “I know this because my dad said so. It’s just some nice looking bullshit.” 

Keisuke angrily stands up. “You fucking take that back, Pah-chin!” 

“Haa? Why are you so angry, man?”

“Chifuyu spent hours moving all our shit around! Don’t tell me that was all for nothing!”

“Didn’t you just say, you thought he did it wrong? Even I’m not that fucking stupid!”

“Chifuyu isn’t stupid!”

“I said, you were fucking stupid!”

“Yeah, I fucking might be!”

PEH-YAH

“So I don’t know shit about history - but Chifuyu’s been helping me study.”

Everyone moves to the other side of the room, which leaves only Peh to fend for himself. 

He sighs, then says, “I get it, sometimes I help Pah-chin study too. But we’re both idiots.”

Keisuke quickly jabs Peh’s chest in agreement. “Yeah, Chifuyu is an idiot too! But I understand things better when he explains it for some reason. It’s like he gets it - or me.” 

Peh nods. “You guys know what the other is thinking.” 

“Yeah, exactly!” Keisuke yells, excitedly. Finally glad to have someone on the same page as him for once. Well, other than Chifuyu, he means. “He just understands what I’m saying sometimes. Even if no one else does.”

“That’s great.” 

“I don’t know how I would have passed the exam without him. I really- hey wait, where are you going? Peh-yah, uhh?”

EVERYONE

Keisuke really didn’t want this to be Chifuyu’s first exposure to the Toman executives, but he didn't have a choice other than to bring Chifuyu to the meeting. Even if it seems like the blond is currently scared stiff, standing next to him. 

He lightly bumps Chifuyu’s shoulder with his own, raising both his eyebrows to silently ask if the other is ok. 

Chifuyu flushes, looks away quickly, then shyly brings his gaze back and nods.

Their silent communication doesn’t go unnoticed by the rest of the members. 

Draken clears his throat loudly, narrowing his eyes between the two of them, and then says, “Looks like the First Division’s in trouble…”

Keisuke tunes out the rest of the words because he thinks it’s gonna all be recap. Probably just the situation regarding Yotsuya Kaidan - which he knows better than all of them anyway. Instead he pays attention to Chifuyu, who’s sweating under the dim lights, looking nervously between all the members, his eyes wide.

Keisuke moves a little closer to him, hoping his presence will calm down the other boy.

“This is an emergency executive meeting regarding that matter,” continues Draken.

Nahoya coughs into his fist. “Actually it’s more like an intervention at this point…”

Chifuyu audibly gulps, but only Keisuke can hear it from his proximity. He remembers, in contrast to Chifuyu’s first meeting, that this behavior is completely different.

Instead of the boisterous newcomer who didn’t know his place, the Chifuyu standing beside him right now feels more mature. Still as excitable, but able to hide it. More aware of his surroundings. No more acting out.

Keisuke feels a little proud. 

“Let’s get started.”

The room gives Mikey their full attention, only to be derailed as he argues with Draken over the filling of his taiyaki. He thought the comedic distraction might help Chifuyu relax a little, but it has the opposite effect. The blond tenses up again as he looks between the two executives fighting. 

Keisuke is about to reach out, maybe ruffle his hair a bit and push his bangs away from all the sweat gathering on his forehead. He really needs Chifuyu to stop overthinking things like he always does.

“Anyways…” Draken jerks his thumb to Chifuyu and asks, “Baji. Who is that guy?”

Chifuyu startles, like a cat, then straightens up.

Everyone is looking at them and he can already feel Chifuyu freezing. He knows Chifuyu is about to do the whole unnecessary introduction thing again, it’s that typical moment, so Keisuke starts - but is interrupted. “He’s our new guy. I brought him here ‘cause he’s involved in this case.”

At the same time, Chifuyu bows abruptly and yells, “Ah…I’m Chifuyu Matsuno! I’m still a work in progress, but from this point on, I’m determined to work under Baji-san...”

Multiple people start talking at once.

“That’s Chifuyu, huh?”

“I knew it! Pay up, Ken-chin!”

“A work in progress? Does that mean they’re not together yet or…?”

“Under Baji - he says.”

“Yeah, he really said that! He’s so bold!”

“Ahh!! Matsuno!! Damn, it’s really you!”

“M’kay.” 

But the mild reaction from Mitsuya gets overshadowed by his next announcement, completely shocking the two members standing front and center.

“The guy dating Baji,” says Mitsuya, with a smile, “that’s all I need to know.”

For some reason, the entire room doesn’t break out into chaos with this statement, instead everyone just casually accepts this fact and moves on. It’s only Keisuke that feels the turmoil in his heart - and maybe Chifuyu too, if he can even dare to look at him.

He watches, almost like an out of body experience, as Pah approaches Chifuyu and clamps a heavy hand on his shoulder. 

“Thanks for looking after Pochi!” Like an inside joke, Pah cups his mouth but his whisper is so loud, the whole room hears it. “ And for looking after our Baji, too!” He slaps Chifuyu a couple more times, the blond barely reacting. “And for bringing me the big fights!” 

“What.” Chifuyu sounds like his world has been turned upside down.

Pah doesn’t notice that anything is amiss. “You helped Baji build that dog house for Pochi, right? He loves it!” He gives him an approving thumbs up. “You did a bang-up job! Ah, but I guess you’re dating one too, haha!”

“What...” This time Chifuyu is a little bit quieter.

Keisuke knows he needs to speak up, to say anything, to save Chifuyu from any further embarrassment - but he’s not sure how to do it without jeopardizing their relationship or his spiraling reputation. Even though he knows this is mostly his fault.

Pah continues talking, as if he isn’t holding a one-sided conversation on his own. “I’ve been pissed off at Baji for talking my ears off every meeting - but I guess he must be really serious about ya if he brought you to an exec meeting, Chifuyu!”

“Yeah, he didn’t even ask!” Nahoya chimes in.

“It’s been a long time since we’ve seen Baji smile though, so I guess it’s fine.” Souya comments. “It’s nice to see him happy, again.”

Draken claps his hands twice, bringing the attention back to him. “This means the time has finally come, pay up assholes!”

“Righto, I’ll be collectin-”

“Wait.” Keisuke finally finds the strength to interrupt. “Can you please…leave this matter for after the meeting?”

“What, you suddenly so embarrassed now that you have a boyfriend?” Mikey sneers from atop his perch. “Even though you talk about him everyday?”

“I don’t…” Keisuke glances at Chifuyu, and because they’re always thinking of the other, Chifuyu choses that moment to meet his gaze. “...I don’t talk about him everyday.”

He’s not sure if he’s being brave or a coward for not correcting anyone.

But Chifuyu, bless him, always has his back. 

Something in his blue-green irises changes, becomes sharper. It’s in that moment Keisuke realizes Chifuyu has caught on, silently agreeing to play along with their charade.  

He doesn’t even have to ask, he already knows Chifuyu will follow.

“Can this um,” starts Chifuyu, “ information stay within this room? We’re not uh, public...”

Even without explicit orders, Chifuyu can always be counted on. Keisuke doesn’t know what he did to deserve him. Maybe that’s why he can’t stop talking about him. 

And maybe that’s why the two of them are in this mess in the first place.

Not to be outdone, Keisuke speaks up again. “Or maybe just…the First Division.” Since only the two of them belong to said division, it’s essentially the same as asking everyone to back the fuck off. It’s only their business - no one else needs to butt in.

“Baji…” Draken says tiredly. “This doesn’t have to be your secret alone anymore.”

“Yeah, everyone is chill with it, dude.”

“We’ve known for a while actually. No need to freak out. We won’t judge you.”

“You were really down bad for him, Baji. We all knew.”

“And you’re both being pretty obvious about it right now.” 

Keisuke knows his flush is probably matching Chifuyu’s - what a pair the two of them must seem in front of everyone. The other boy is barely holding the act together, but he waits patiently for Keisuke’s next move. He just isn’t sure what it should be.

“I think there’s been a misunderstanding,” he sighs, “sorry, everyone.” 

For the first time, he feels apprehensive about not being able to speak to Chifuyu freely. What if this makes the blond even more uncomfortable? What if this destroys their friendship? At some point, he’s going to push Chifuyu too far - what happens then?  

“I have to put a stop to this...” 

This wasn’t how he thought this meeting would go. But worst of all, maybe, just maybe - this whole thing could be the breaking point to Chifuyu’s loyalty.

“...The truth is-”

 “I get it.” Mikey suddenly says, standing up. “I’ll leave Chifuyu to Baji.”

Their invincible leader jumps down, landing smoothly right in front of the others. He gives both of them a searching look, but his gaze lingers on Chifuyu. “I’ve made up my mind.”

Keisuke has no idea what he means. 

“If the two of them want to keep to themselves, then I won’t push it. The rest of you should stay out of this until they’re ready…” he smirks, “You’re all dismissed.”

“...Mikey.”

But the other boy pushes past him to whisper something into Chifuyu’s ear. It could be his imagination, but it sounds like “If you break up with Baji, I’ll kill you. ” 

CHIFUYU

“Well that was unhinged.”

The two of them loiter outside the entrance, not quite ready to talk about it yet. Keisuke leans against his motorcycle, looking away from Chifuyu as the other boy inspects the vending machine. His throat feels dry, but not in a way a drink can fix.

“They all had such a crazy aura around them that I was shaking just being in their presence,” laughs Chifuyu nervously, probably to fill the awkward silence. “Especially Mikey-kun.”

That’s right. Mikey really did say some weird stuff.

“I know, I’m sorry,” says Keisuke, turning around. 

“Eh?” 

“I’m sorry you have to put up with my selfishness,” he explains. “I didn’t…mean to lead them on like that. Or you either.”

“Baji-san…what do you mean?” Chifuyu says slowly.

Keisuke isn’t sure how to go about this. Words aren’t really his thing. After tonight, that fact seems to especially be true - but usually he can just count on Chifuyu to figure it out for him. Although maybe that’s been making him complacent. Still, he needs to make an effort to right his wrongs.

“I think I talked about you too much with the other guys, so they got the wrong idea about us.” He crosses his arms and lets out a frustrated noise. “I shoulda just came clean from the start instead of dragging you in. Thanks for covering for me, though, but I don’t expect you to pretend forever. So I won’t force you to do anything.” 

“It’s ok, Baji-san!” Chifuyu yells. “I don’t mind. I told you, I’d do anything to remain by your side, right? I can do this for you, too!”

Keisuke gives him a lopsided smile. It’s hard to reason with Chifuyu when he gets like this - his determination is infectious. So is his positivity. Keisuke already feels in a better mood just by being around him.  

“It’s fine, Chifuyu. I can go back and apologize to them, clear things up. Even if I have to do it alone.”

“What are you talking about?” Of course the other boy won’t back down. “I’ll always follow you, Baji-san! I’ll come with you!”

“No…that would just make it harder for them to believe.”

The first signs of frustrations show on Chifuyu’s face, like he’s about to start talking back to his captain. Really now, his obedience just comes and goes. 

Then, suddenly, a huge grin breaks out until it rivals all the stars in the night sky above them. With a look of pure adoration, Chifuyu closes the distance between them and offers Keisuke a fist bump.

“Let’s date for real, then!” Chifuyu says without a moment’s hesitation.

Keisuke feels like he’s been given the whole world, rather than a hand or a way out. 

He can’t help but feel the edges of his mouth stretch upwards. He feels so relieved and grateful all at once. He doesn’t understand it, but maybe Chifuyu does - so he’ll just have to ask him to explain it later.

Chifuy’s smile only gets wider. “That way you’re not lying to anyone - and we don’t have to pretend!” 

It’s a crazy plan. But perhaps he’s a little crazy for Chifuyu, anyway.

Since they don’t have any better ideas, he readily agrees.

“Alright!” 

When their fists collide, it’s his heart that meets Chifuyu’s halfway.

END

Sorry they're idiots.

I’m also sorry this was absolutely Satou Ryusei erasure (love that guy) and the bajifuyu just totally derailed the meeting so it’s not even about Yotsuya Kaidan anymore. I promise they’ll hold another assembly to figure it out!!

Baji POV is really hard for me to write - so if he seems out of character, just remember I’m a crack fic writer.

This is for pau - if you like bajifuyu or kojiryu, please go read their fics!!

#tokyo revengers #tokrev #tokyo revengers fanfiction #tokrev fanfic #tr spin off #spinoff spoilers #bajifuyu #bajifuyu fanfic #baji keisuke #keisuke baji #chifuyu matsuno #matsuno chifuyu #matcha writes bjfy

[narcolini]

when the crows come home, 4

part one / part two / part three & ao3 link

angel reyes x gn!reader, part 4 of ?, 4588 words

a/n: screams. finally get to bring in some angel pov and some spanish AND some OCs. im chomping the bit - also theres translations at the end (thankyou @yourlocalspacewitxch​ love u)!

taglist: @drabbles-mc @cositapreciosa @ashlingiswriting

Angel didn’t mean to fall asleep here. He really didn’t mean to fall asleep here. 

He was talking, no, you were talking, he was listening, for most of the night. Until you weren’t. Until you were asleep. Well, who knows which person went first, it doesn’t matter, really. He doesn’t remember. All that matters, is that he fell asleep in your bed, still dressed, and that was never the plan. He was gonna leave, back out the window and onto his bike before it got too early to be pointless. So much for that. Instead, he fell asleep like he was already home, with your TV flickering over him instead of his own. 

It’s still on now. He’s still in his kutte too, and he fucking hates sleeping in his kutte. Shit feels like sleeping on a saddle, rigid and hot, so hot, once he starts sweating under it. 

God, he hopes you haven’t noticed the sweating. First time you’ve shared a bed and he’s damp under his shirt, behind his neck, across his fucking brow.

He stares at the ceiling above your room. You haven’t moved yet, besides the lift of your shoulders and the push of your breath over him. You don’t know that he’s awake and thinking himself into something like a nightmare.

Didn’t mean to cross that boundary, right, Angel? To fall asleep with you against him, face on his chest, patches probably leaving imprints on your cheek. Santo Padre pushed into the skin in that same blocky font. Way too fucking soon for that, yeah? Why not seal the deal and go have breakfast with the parents, too? 

So much for taking it as it comes, for letting you figure your own shit out, before stuffing himself into the middle of it all. If he’d known this would happen, he’d have rode off last night when you didn’t answer on the first dial tone. 

Fuck. He didn’t mean to leave his bike out in the open all night, either. 

He’s out of the bed faster than he should be, considering you’re sleeping still, but the bike’s there when he looks through the window and the relief of that quickly overshadows any guilt he has about waking you. Thank God, you live in a neighbourhood full of pensioners. No-ones even looked twice at his bike. The helmet’s still swinging from the handlebars. 

‘Angel?’ 

You’re disorientated, obviously. He’s just thrown you onto the mattress like you’re an extension of the sheets. 

‘Hey.’ He wipes his palms against his jeans and turns back to the bed. ‘I just.’ He stops. It must look like he’s trying to escape through the window, caught in the act before he can even touch the frame. ‘You good?’ he asks, hoping he looks relaxed, or as normal as someone can be in this situation. 

You nod and make a noise that’s almost readable as a yes.

That job shit really got to you. This is the longest you’ve gone without telling him something about himself, or cracking a joke that makes him so annoyed, but so glad you’re back. He misses it like you’ve gone mute.  

‘Sorry,’ he explains, though you aren’t awake enough to care, ‘I thought someone might’ve stolen my bike. Forgot your neighbours are, like, five hundred years old.’

You’re propped on your elbows, squinting at him like the sunlight’s blinding you. Your hair’s flattened on one side, your lips are dry from breathing through your mouth—yeah, that’s something he’ll use later—and honestly, you look like you haven’t been awake, or human, in a year at least. But he wants to get back in, he realises. He wants to apologise again, lie down, and put your goofy sleep-struck face back onto his chest like he’d never moved at all.

And that is a very fucking loco thing to be thinking on a Thursday morning. Looking at you, biche.

He puts his hands in his pockets and keeps his feet firmly in the same spot on the carpet. ‘Guess we fell asleep,’ he says, because that’s better than suggesting he stays and wastes the day with you.

‘Fuck,’ you mutter, before rubbing your eyes with your fingers. ‘What time is it?’

His phone’s on your bed still, under your stomach—he can see the edge of it beneath your t-shirt. When he points it out, silently, you oblige, taking it and clicking it once to read the time. 

For a second, his gut tightens, because he know’s you’re seeing it again, the photo Potter sent him. But you know about that now, to an extent. He forces a breath until his lungs deflate. The kid’s not a secret anymore. You don’t even react when you see him shining back at you. 

Annoyingly, it doesn’t feel like a relief yet. There’s still things he hasn’t told you, things that could make you react worse than ‘I have a baby’ did—though, that, you took better than he ever imagined. Freakishly well, really. It’d be weird as fuck if he wasn’t so used to you and your calculated responses. A lot has changed since you went away, but you weren’t a liar then, and you aren’t now. As far as he knows, anyway.  

‘Well, house is empty,’ you say afterwards, words still nudging into each other with sleep. ‘You're good to use the door.’ 

Like that’s what he’s worrying about. He hadn’t even got to thinking about your parents yet.

‘Alright.’ He nods, taking the phone when you hold it out for him.

Should he leave? Is that what that was? Just a polite way of saying, get out please, we made it fucking awkward, right? 

He half expects you to say it out loud, but you don’t. 

Instead, you fold back into the bed, arms collapsing under you, head pushing into the pillow he’d been using. There’s no reason for you to get up, he guesses, but that doesn’t stop him from feeling conflicted about it. He almost wants to drag you up and make you come with him, but Bish would have something to say about that. Fuck, all of them would have something to say about that. Even EZ would find some smart-ass comment to make.

‘You gonna be okay today?’ he asks, watching your face, your eyes closed already.

You murmur a yeah. Lying, clearly. 

He’s never seen someone actually look depressed while they’re falling asleep before, but you’re managing it. He can see you waiting for the bed to swallow you whole. Something about the way your shoulders are sitting, all tucked into yourself. 

He cant help himself; he has to say, ‘Text me when you’re up, alright?’ like he’s got you under 24-hour supervision. Like he has some right to know. 

Your answer is another hum, followed by, ‘Go do your job, Angel. M’not a kid.’

You aren’t. You’ve dealt with worse, without him, plenty of times before. He’s gotta remember that. He shouldn’t need prompting. 

‘Sure, biche,’ he replies, but you’re already asleep, lips parted slightly.

__________

Letting himself out is easier than he expects it to be. Though, really, why would it be hard? House looks the same as it did when he was there to eat pizza and watch WrestleMania on the box TV in your living room. God, that was a lifetime ago now. You taped it for him, when you remembered, and he’d come round to watch it, sitting inches from the screen. Highlight of his week, every week.

That’s one thing that has changed actually, it’s a flat-screen now. Your parents have welcomed more of the 21st century into their home than Pops ever has. He’d still use the black and white set if he could. He didn’t change it ’til him and EZ pitched in for a new one. 

The front door locks as he shuts it behind him, which he’s glad of. Least you won’t get robbed while you sleep the day away. Then, he’s back into reality, down the steps from your porch and over to his bike like nothing has happened. No sleepover, no boundaries crossed. Just back to the grind, same as every day. Feels good. Feels right. He takes a breath big enough to fill his lungs before swinging his leg over.

It’s border work this time, fucking baby seats, of all things. Like he wants to spend his day carting those about, knowing he’ll never need to buy one himself. 

He sighs, back curving as he slouches into the seat. 

Gotta stop thinking like that, man. Won’t make him come home any quicker. 

‘Yo.’ He’s called EZ before even touching his helmet, or the keys in the pocket of his jeans. His brother’s groan cracks into his ear in place of a hello. ‘I wake you up?’ Angel asks, fighting the urge to hang up again. The one time he’s up before noon and every other person he talks to is dead-set on being sleeping beauty.

‘Yeah, actually.’ EZ groans again, then clears his throat until he sounds lively. ‘Thought we weren’t meeting til twelve?’

‘Sooner we start, sooner we get it over with.’ He was already thinking about the beer waiting for him afterwards. Ice cold, condensation up its neck. ‘You gonna be ready when I pull up?’

‘Fuck, no.’ EZ laughs. ‘I gotta shower and eat something first, bro. Gonna be a long fucking day.’

Wrong answer, but it’s too early to argue with him. ‘Alright,’ Angel sighs, ‘I’ll stop by Pops before I come to you.’ He pulls the keys from his pocket and turns the ignition, hoping EZ can hear it through the phone. Hurry up, it says, don’t keep me waiting, hermano. ‘Someone should probably check on him, anyway. Make sure he’s eating and shit.’ 

‘You nearby?’ 

Angel snorts; imagines himself saying, Yeah, I’m near by. Wanna hear a crazy story, bro? Guess where I slept last night.

But that’s another thing it’s way too early for, so instead he says, ‘You’re supposed to be showering, fool.’ Then he pins the phone to his shoulder and reaches for his helmet. ‘You got an hour, no más. Entiendes, carnal?’

‘Alright, relax,’ EZ complains. ‘Man, I like it way better when you’re the one oversleeping.’ 

Yeah, me the fuck too.

                                                          *

Heroin-stuffed baby seats. Ironic even to Angel and he barely knows what the word fucking means. Made to save kids in a car crash and they’re filling them with dope, sending them right past border control with someone playing sweet little Mommy behind the wheel. 

So dumb, but it always works. World’s funny like that. 

‘That all we’re moving?’ he asks, shining the torch over EZ. 

They’re by the tunnel’s exit still, EZ stuffing the load into the cushioning of the car seats they’d brought. Thank fuck, they got to avoid the dirty job this time, left that part to Gilly and Coco instead. He hates going through the tunnel. Shit always sticks to his hair: cobwebs, dirt. He’s the only one tall enough to brush the fucking top of it. 

‘That’s all there is,’ Gilly answers from behind.

Well, fuck.

‘Shit’s not gonna last long out there,’ he says, though it’s obvious, but someone’s gotta say it.

EZ looks up at them. ‘Neither are we if it stays like this,’ he says.

And that’s even more fucking obvious. 

‘Will you hurry up?’ Coco whines, clinging from the ladder still. He’s poking out the hole in the ground like a prairie dog. A prairie dog in his abuelita’s wig. ‘I’m fucking itchy man, this shit is clinging to me like fucking asbestos or some shit.’

EZ ducks his head again, shoving the final package into the seat.

‘It’d be quicker if you helped, asshole,’ Angel says, earning him a, fuck off, go do your part, in return.

Yeah, don’t have to tell him twice. He can’t wait to get out of this shit-hole and back into the open air.

‘Have you noticed Coco’s got cranky lately?’ EZ asks, once it’s just them again, a car seat in each set of arms. 

‘That’s what he’s always like,’ Angel answers, eyes rolling. ‘I used to live with him, remember?’

Used to make breakfast around him like he was cohabiting with a viper. So bite-y until he’d had his breakfast, or a smoke.

‘Probably forgot his morning coffee or some shit,’ he adds, though he can tell by EZ’s expression that he already doesn’t agree with him. He’s got that line between his brows like Angel’s said something stupid again. His favourite fucking expression lately. 

Angel looks away before it can piss him off. 

‘Pops didn’t get out of bed,’ he says after a minute. ‘House is a fucking mess, too. Dirty dishes everywhere.’

When he went, Pop didn’t even return his hello. Didn’t even lift his head to look at him, standing in the doorway. Somehow, it felt worse than arguing does. He’d rather that, Pops telling him how much of a constant disappointment he is, than whatever this is. Silence stings in a way he can’t shake off.

EZ sighs beside him, switching the seat to rest on his opposite arm. ‘What’re we gonna do, man?’

Angel shrugs. ‘Fucking no idea. I’m not good at fixing people, bro. That’s your job.’

‘Since when?’

‘Um,’ he shoots EZ a look, ‘since forever?’ 

Since Angel went to Chino, before he’d even turned twenty-one, since he ruined his relationship with Pop and fucked up every good thing he had going for him. Since he scared you away, right out of Santo Padre. 

‘You’re good with people, Ezekiel. Pops will listen to you eventually.’

‘Fucking hope so.’ He tuts. ‘I hate seeing him like this.’

You get used to it, Angel wants to say. That’s how it was every fucking day when EZ was in Stockton. But he knows what the answer will be. You went away too, you know. We had to deal with the same shit, Angel. Mum as well. 

So, he says nothing, and he sets his eyes on the car of the poor woman who’s gonna take this shit through the border. 

                                                         *

Finally, finally, he gets his God damn beer. He feels like kissing it, but he takes a sip instead. Fucking beautiful. He lets the rest of them fall into conversation, along the bar to the right of him—he took the end seat for a reason—and enjoys the quiet he’s pretending he has. Lets himself think, properly, for the first time today. 

Until he’s interrupted, that is.  

‘You depressed, homeboy?’ Coco laughs, looking down the line, past Gilly and EZ, to target him. ‘Looks like you’re gonna cry or some shit.’

‘I’m thinking. Jesus.’ Can’t have a minute to himself without a fucking interrogation. He rubs a palm over his face, then sets it on his beer again afterwards, rings clinking against the glass. ‘Was thinking if I knew of any jobs going,’ he explains, reluctantly. ‘Got a friend that needs some work.’

Gilly shrugs. ‘Always need more mules going over the border.’

‘Fuck no. Not that shit.’ The idea of it almost pisses him off. No, it does piss him off. The thought of you sitting there, drug-filled baby seats behind you. He’d rather be the one taking that risk. Him and his ‘arrest me’ looking self. So, no, not that. He takes a swig of his beer to wash the sour from his mouth. ‘Something above board,’ he says, ‘legal. Something normal people do.’

EZ laughs. ‘Do we know any normal people?’

‘Ha-ha.’ God, he’s hard to talk to sometimes. So quick, it’s annoying. ‘It’s for…’ He stops himself. Things shared at midnight, in the quiet of bedrooms, don’t usually come with a free pass to tell other people. ‘Don’t worry about it,’ he finishes, head shaking. ‘I’ll think of something.’

Then, right on cue, you message him. He knows, because his phone vibrates against his chest, jumping alive from the inside pocket of his kutte, and no-one else texts him lately. Besides EZ, and that fool’s sitting shoulder to shoulder with him.

Thanks for last night, the text reads, and, yes, I just woke up.

He smiles. Then sniffs and rubs a hand over his mouth to wipe it away again. No problem, he types back. You feel better?

He does, anyway, miles better, in fact. About the baby, about the two of you. About being useful to someone who isn’t paying him to be. 

So much, you reply. Ready to take on the world.

Shit, watch out Santo Padre. He hopes you laugh at that, lame as it is. Hopes you snort in that way you do. The typing bubble pops up again as he takes another drink. 

You staying out of trouble? you ask. 

The answer comes easily. Hell yeah, good as gold, biche.

He didn’t mean for it to be a lie, Gilly and Coco just have really, really bad timing. The moment he hits send, and looks up from your conversation, is the exact same moment that Gilly punches Coco, sending him right into the back of a uniformed soldier. Right into a group of them, even, flattening Coco and the one nearest onto the pool table behind.

Who knows what they were arguing about, who knows who was in the right, or how it went from beer-side talk, to a physical fucking fight—between men who are supposed to be brothers, he might add. Angel doesn’t know, or care, that’s for sure. What he does know, however, is that when a soldier throws a punch at one of his own, yeah, that’s when it becomes everybody’s problem.

EZ turns to him, as he reaches the same conclusion Angel has. ‘Shall we?’ he asks.

Angel swallows the last of his beer. ‘I think we fucking shall.’

And, fuck it, he’ll bring the bar stool too. 

                                                         *

He was getting his ass beat. Not this time, not now, but then, fucking years ago, in Chino. In the fuck-up that took his stay from twelve months to eighteen. It was a fight that lasted all of three fucking minutes and it got his sentence extended, without debate. Could have been worse, of course. Could’ve ended up dead in the yard for running his mouth, again. He hadn’t worked out how to survive in there yet, didn’t know when to joke and when to keep his mouth shut. How to make friends and who to avoid all together. Couldn’t get it right, at all, until Gabe had taught him how. 

That was the first time he’d spoken to him. Gabriel ‘Gabe’ Trujillo.

He’d got to Angel before the COs did, pulled the brawl apart like he was shucking corn. Pulled Angel right from under the guy, Boney—yeah, dumb name, that’s why it started, Angel just had to tell him that—and set them away from each other like children. Got involved before it got too bad, while Angel was still able to stand.

‘Pinshe mocoso cagadero, ‘tás tratando de que te maten?’ he barked, all up in Angel’s face.

He stood in front of him, voice hard like he’d been fighting himself, not watching it happen, and waited for an answer. Like Angel could give him one, like he could even focus on the guy. There was two of him, he remembers, their heads going in and out of each other in the blur. 

‘What?’ Angel parroted. ‘What?’ 

He was bleeding from his brow, dripping red over his eyes. His own head was spinning from the hits he’d taken. He couldn’t understand English, let alone Spanish, but that’s all Gabe ever used with him.

He didn’t look at Boney either, didn’t even address him. Just stood between the two of them, his back to the other man, chiding Angel like a kid.

‘Pues, quieres morir,’ he said, ‘es eso?’

No, Angel tried to tell him, who the fuck are you? No, he doesn’t want to die. 

But before his mouth could catch up, the COs had arrived, and then Angel was against the fence, wrists pulled together behind his back, Boney slammed into place beside him. Somehow, that was the worst part. That shit hurt the most.

__________

Once he was let out of the Hole, Gabe had found him again. He sat down across from him, at the table Angel had been occupying, and put a pill in front of his food tray.

Angel stared at it. His face was still too bruised and swollen to bother with pulling any sort of expression in return. 

‘Aspirin,’ Gabe explained. ‘I get it on a doctor’s note. Migraines.’

Migraines? Angel looked from the pill, to Gabe, to the CO standing in the corner of the room.

‘Figured your head’s hurting more than mine right now.’

‘What?’ Angel asked, looking back to him. 

He still didn’t know the guy. He was shorter than Angel, but older. Forty vs twenty. Thicker too, working muscle with a noticeable belly, and a beard that touched his chest when he talked. 

‘Quieres que lo repita?’ He scoffed, and kept his voice hushed as he continued. ‘Tómalo antes de que vean, plebito.’

His head was pounding, so he took it. And he gagged, of course, because he’s always been fucking bad at taking pills. It sat on his tongue, refusing to go down, until Gabe sighed and passed him the drink from his tray. Like he couldn’t even do that himself.

‘Thanks,’ Angel managed, sounding ungrateful. He didn’t recognise what a lifeline it was, what it meant in the grand scheme of things. Now, Angel would go back in time and tell himself to pull it together. Gabe is giving you more than a fucking painkiller, fool.

‘Mira. Kid.’ He switched to English, thinking Angel didn’t know it well enough to keep up. ‘I’m tired of seeing you get your ass beat. They’re gonna extend your sentence for that one, y’know? Other guy’s lip was split, needed stitches.’

Angel scoffed, like that was his fault. Boney threw the first punch. ‘That’s not—’

Gabe put his palm up. ‘They don’t give a shit. Damage is done, everyone pays for it.’

That’s when Angel noticed the tattoos across Gabe’s knuckles: MAYANS MC. He remembers thinking it was goofy, branding himself like that. Then, here he is now, having covered more of his skin than Gabe has, with the very same name. You don’t get it, until you’re in it. 

‘I can’t sit and watch you ruin your life, okay?’ Gabe said. ‘Too many kids go that way.’

His brother, Angel found out. He told him that later. Apparently, he had Angel’s attitude and stubbornness, made the same mistakes over and over without learning from them. Angel didn’t know at the time, but Gabe had been keeping an eye on him since the beginning, hoping that eventually he’d wise up. The shit with Boney was his limit. Like seeing a ghost, he said. Hermanito. 

‘So, what?’ Angel asked, disbelieving. He’d never had a guy in his corner before then. ‘You gonna make me part of your crew or something?’

‘Pendejo…’ Gabe muttered. ‘You ever think before you speak?’

‘No, not really,’ he replied and, somehow, that chipped a smile across Gabe’s husky features. Sealed the deal for him. 

‘Gabriel,’ he said, putting a hand out for Angel to shake, ‘Gabe, if you’re not my mother.’

He took his palm. ‘Angel.’

Gabe laughed at that, really fucking laughed, and Angel smirked back like he was in on it. 

‘Angelito,’ he said, once he’d wound down again, ‘ah, qué chistoso. You stick with me, you might even start enjoying yourself, kid.’

Yeah, not quite. But, he’d kept him straight after then, and when he got out before Angel did, he sent him mail and called and—fuck, Angel really should ring him soon. It’s been too long. 

You’d like Gabe, really. He’s your sort of person, doesn’t talk until he has something to say. Doesn’t lie either, just gives you whatever he thinks is right, as long as it’ll serve a purpose. If he wasn’t in Oakland, Angel would introduce you to him before anyone else, before anyone in Santo Padre leathers at all. Hell, he’d take you to fucking dinner at his house. Gabe’s approval almost means more to him than Pop’s does. 

But that’ll never happen. You won’t even get close. 

                                                         *

Bishop is in a bad fucking mood. Obviously, news of the fight at the bar hadn’t gone down well and they’d been scolded for it, in front of the whole damn club. Never gets any easier. He never gets any leeway either, no matter how high he goes. Angel’s made it to secretary now and still, when you’ve fucked up, you’ve fucked up. Bish has no problem reminding him, or anyone, of that. 

But, he gets it. He gets it. Scrapping with military men in public does nothing for the club’s rep, but, man, shit happens sometimes. Bishop would’ve acted the same damn way if he was there.

Angel’s outside now, smoking on the clubhouse steps like the cigarette might drag all the shitty feelings out of him, pull it right up from his stomach, into his lungs, off into the fucking air with the smoke. It isn’t working yet. Maybe on the next drag.

‘Hey,’ Bish appears behind him, halfway out the door, ‘I’ve changed my mind. I want bodies tonight.’

Angel nods.

‘Be back here at midnight.’ He holds his gaze. ‘No more fucking about, Angel.’

‘Yeah, got it.’ Loud and clear. ‘Midnight,’ he agrees and then el presidente disappears again.

Fucking attitude. 

Sometimes, he misses Oakland. He even misses Marcus, of all people. The guy had the leash so tight, Angel never got in trouble in the first place, never got scolded for things, because he never stepped out of line. He didn’t know he could miss that until recently.

Marcus you wouldn’t like, he thinks, or maybe you would. He can’t tell. Maybe you’d like him for what he’d done, him and Gabe both. They’d moulded Angel into something worthwhile, after all. Someone worth coming back to.

A whining engine catches his attention, Chucky’s dumb little vespa pulling into the lot in front of him. There’s a box balanced on the back of it, tied down with a fraying bit of string. Knowing Chucky, it’s something edible, in way too big of a quantity, that absolutely nobody has asked for. Donuts, or some shit. He’s always playing housewife when he has actual yard work to be doing. 

Ah, now, that’s an idea.

‘Hey, Chuck?’ He finishes his cigarette, snuffing it beneath his boot before taking the steps onto the gravel. ‘You got a minute?’

Chucky beams, nodding quickly as he kicks the stand down. The unclipped straps of his helmet bounce by his chin. ‘For you, Angel? Always, brother.’

He smiles back and tries to make it look genuine. Chucky has a real talented way of making things sound fucking weird.

‘You ever feel like you need an extra pair of hands around here?’ He winces as soon as he asks it, Chuck’s wooden fingers already up and wiggling between them. ‘Sorry, you know,’ he sighs, ‘you get what I’m saying.’

‘Sure,’ Chucky agrees, nodding again. 

It’s a twitch, it must be. His nerves are rattling out through his skull. 

Angel carries on despite it. ‘We got room to take on someone else?’

‘I think so,’ Chucky replies. ‘Who d’you have in mind?’

------

part five >>>>

‘Pinshe mocoso cagadero, ‘tás tratando de que te maten?’ = Fucking little shithead/kid/brat, are you trying to get yourself killed?

'Pues, quieres morir, es eso?’ = Well, you want to die, is that it?

‘Quieres que lo repita? Tómalo antes de que vean, plebito.’ = You want me to repeat it? Take it before they see, dumbo.

qué chistoso = how amusing/silly

#angel reyes x you #angel reyes x reader #angel reyes #mayans mc #mayans mc fanfic #HOOOOO BOY! #gabe i will die for you i hope the people will agree

[asm5129]

Flash thoughts: A New World, Part 1--Reunions

So it's apparently been almost nine months since Khione announced the pregnancy, that went quick XD

Jokes aside, yeah, that one was real solid. Eric Wallace has almost always done well with Thawne, interestingly.

it was real cool to finally have The Day depicted on our screen. This has always been at the heart of Barry's character--he can't let things go, because of his survivors guilt over his mom's death and his dad's imprisonment.

To let him deal with it head-on, having already learned the hard way a few times he simply cannot change it, and being able to spend time with his parents one last time...it was very poetic, very well done.

And I really like that Barry gave Thawne a chance at an out. But Thawne's petty delusions and his rage that came from it couldn't let him take the path out of his pain.

hell, Barry even apologized for "taking the credit" for his so-called heroic moment., something Barry literally called him out for holding onto that tight in season 8 because of just how petty it is, just to give Thawne the best chance at being able to take that out. But he couldn't do it.

And while it was a little odd to have his Mr and Mrs Allen telling a complete stranger he can stay at their home for a night--not to mention with no concern for their son-- I think it does very much speak to why Barry is the kind of hero he is.

I do find it interesting that the final villain of the show is actually the Negative Speed Force itself. That's a really intriguing idea, and I'm looking forward to seeing how that goes.

I guess a bit of a shorter #FlashThoughts today. just overall, by far one of the better epsidoes this season, and honestly?

I think flash is gonna have a great last few episodes. It should haven been a great last season, especially after last season showed just how great this show could be when the writers prioritize their strengths, but at least it looks like the ending is gonna be pretty cool, cuz this episode shows all the signs of Eric Wallace's better work.

It's an epic Flash event dealing with Thawne and the Negative Speed Force with deep personal and cosmic stakes cutting to the heart of Barry's character by pitting him up against the darkest threats reality can muster.

So we may as well enjoy the ride <3

And hey, at least Grant Gustin isn't a criminal about to be overshadowed in their first headlining feature as The Flash by fanservice. It would be an awful disaster for that to be the case for a Flash actor, don't you think?

#the flash season 9 #flash thoughts #flash spoilers #the flash #grant gustin #eric wallace #arrowverse #arrowverse positivity #the arrowverse #final season #eobard thawne

[cursed-domain]

Dazed

Stoner!Geto Suguru x Reader 

(and implied Geto x Gojo hhehe)

WC ~3.2k

You get higher than intended, and Geto gets more hands-on than expected. Even with his friend (?) sleeping just a few feet away.

Contains: NSFW and DC - dubcon and manipulation. Drug use, degradation, oral sex (both male and female receiving), unprotected sex, and potentially voyeurism 

Gojo is already too high to be of any use by the time you arrive. You see him sprawled across a couch as Geto opens the door for you, eyes lidded over, an unusually tranquil smile gracing his lips. He does still manage to grin when he sees you, waving a lazy hand in your direction.

“He was more fun half an hour ago,” says Geto, sitting you down on the other, smaller sofa as he pulls his lighter from the low table in front of you. “Always gets all giggly for a while before he calms down.”

“Nuh-uh,” Gojo contributes. “Been fine this whooole time.”

“Mhm.” Geto smiles patronizingly at his friend as he hands you the lighter.

You giggle quietly and clumsily flick the silver wheel at the top. It does nothing.

“Have you not used one of those before?”

Embarrassed, you shake your head. “Nope. I’ve only smoked a couple times. Someone’s always done it for me.”

“You’re cute.” Geto holds out his hand, and you place the small black box in his palm. “It’s like this.” He holds it straight up and quickly strokes his thumb across the sparkwheel. A small flame ignites, dancing brightly in the dim, pungent room. “Your turn.”

He extinguishes the flame and hands it back to you. You nod silently, still a little flushed. “And… um…”

“You haven’t used a bong before either, have you?” The condescending smile is trained on you, now. And you don’t mind nearly as much as you should.

“Maybe not… I think I get it, though.” You point to the top of the glass tube in front of you. “My mouth goes there.” You point to the bowl. “And the lighter goes there. And then I inhale.”

“Smart girl,” he purrs. “You figured it out all by yourself.” He leans over you, pulling the implement closer, brushing your thigh as he withdraws his hand. “Want me to go first? Show you how it’s done?”

“Nope,” you say, with much more confidence than you feel. “You already had some before I got here. ‘S my turn now.”

He shrugs lazily, squeezing your shoulder in what you take as a gesture of encouragement. “If you say so.”

You lean forward eagerly. Gojo sits up to watch, laughing as you curl your lips tight around the outside of the tube. “Oy, Geto,” he laughs. “She kinda looks like you did earlier -”

“Shh.” Geto grins crookedly in his friend’s direction, pulling your head back before you can process what’s just passed between them. “Lips on the inside, sweetheart. Not over the rim.”

You nod, heart beating fast in a mixture of embarrassment and excitement and who-knows-what as you try again. You’re proud of how much you manage to inhale, although the feeling of self-satisfaction is diminished by the unsupressable coughs which erupt from your lips as soon as you separate them from the glass.

“Not too bad.” Gojo claps slowly for you, so seemingly sincere that your pride starts to return. “The coughs get better. You’ll learn.”

“We’ll teach you,” Geto elaborates, rubbing your back as you’re wracked by a second, smaller wave of coughs. “You’re gonna be a real stoner pretty soon.”

“Am not,” you protest. “Not gonna smoke all the time like you idiots.”

“Hm?” Gojo’s eyes seem a little brighter now, glinting sapphire as a beam of sunlight catches them through the window. “Nah. I mean - maybe I’m kind of an idiot right now. But Geto’s not. He knows what he’s doing.”

“Yeah,” you say, already slightly dazed. “I know. He just taught me.” You’re vaguely aware of his hand sliding from your back down your waist. It’s warm and soft, and you can’t seem to make yourself care as it brushes your hip bone.

“Yeah.” Gojo’s eyes train on Geto’s movements. They widen briefly, then narrow as the bright light fades, overshadowed by a passing cloud. “Mhm. Man knows how to hold his smoke.” He falls back down onto the couch, folding his hands behind his head. “You don’t, though.”

You giggle as he closes his eyes, a smirk small but plain on his handsome face. “Yup. ‘M already feeling kinda. Hm.” You’re not quite sure how to describe the feeling. And it’s so hard to think at all, with Geto’s long fingers slowly crawling up your thigh. 

“‘m sleepy. You guys - have fun, okay?” You lean your head against Geto’s shoulder. A few minutes later, Gojo’s head drops off to the side, his breathing slowed to a slow and peaceful rhythm.

“He won’t be up for a while,” says Geto. “Just us, okay?

You nod. He’s so warm, and - he seems so much more alert than you. It comes from experience, you suppose. You nod again, absently, shivering a bit as his fingertips slide along your hips. 

“Sensitive, hm?”

“Huh?” 

“I’m barely even touching you, sweetheart. And you’re already getting all… hm.” He exhales gently as you turn your eyes towards his. He’s close enough for you to pick out each individual eyelash, thick and dark, blinking slowly as you lean closer. 

“I smoked too much, I think.” You giggle, high and soft, laying your hand over his as it works at the silver button fastening your jeans. You can practically taste the tang of his breath. “Don’t do this much.”

“Honestly, I didn’t even think you’d come. I thought you might be a little… straight laced. A good girl, you know?”

“Uh-huh. ‘Cause I am.” You lower your face to cough again and then bring it back up, grinning sheepishly, biting your lip. “Maybe not right now, though.”

“Absolutely not.” He takes the back of your head, surprising you - you’d almost forgotten, in your haze, that he had another hand. “And that’s alright. In fact, I want to keep you just like this.” He presses you forward, and suddenly you really can taste him - his breath, his lips, his tongue, almost sloppy against your face as he drags down the zipper of your jeans. “Not too loud, now.”

You glance over at his friend, sleeping soundly just feet away. “I talk quiet. I’ll be good.”

Geto smiles, baring his front teeth. “I wasn’t referring to your talking.”

You suppress a gasp as two of his fingers slide over you, pressed tight against your panties by the denim seams above them. 

“Bad girl. Didn’t I just tell you to be quiet?”

You nod, biting your lip to keep from making another, louder noise as he nudges your panties aside. “‘m sorry…”

“But I know you just couldn’t help yourself. So I’ll have to help you, instead.” His hand wraps around your shoulder and slaps over your mouth, suppressing your whines as the other set of fingers spreads you open. “You are a bad girl, aren’t you? All wet when I’ve barely touched you.”

You squirm, letting out a whimper behind his hand. The movement guides your cunt over his fingers, and you moan again as his fingertips brush up against your clit.

“Don’t wake him up, sweetheart. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind, but - I want you all to myself.” With one last slow, gentle stroke, he pulls his hand from between your thighs, moving the other from your mouth so he can wipe the mess you’ve made on your cheek. “And you want all my attention, too, don’t you?”

“Yeah. Mhm.” You feel almost dizzy, now, struggling to speak even now that he’s allowing it. 

“You wanna be good for me?”

Good, bad. You don’t really know which one he thinks you are, or which one would describe how you’re acting right now. But you want to agree so badly. Just to see him smile at you again. “Yes. Yesyesyes. Wanna be good for you, Geto.”

“Of course you do.” You feel warm all over again as his white-toothed smile makes another appearance, just for you. Especially when he touches you. Right under your shirt, working his slow way up your stomach. “How about you be really good and take this off for me, hm?”

“Yessir.” You open and close your mouth slowly as you pull your shirt over your head. It feels cottony, full and dry. You stick your tongue out and look down, cross-eyed, at your own finger as you run it over your tongue, testing whether it’s really somehow dried up. “Hahh-”

Geto catches your wrist, looking at you with an intensity that almost frightens you. “What’re you doing now, sweetheart?”

“Um…” you cock your head to the side, suddenly confused. His eyes are pretty, his face not nearly as flushed as your own feels. “I don’t know,” you giggle. “Do you know?”

“Not exactly. But I wouldn’t say I mind.” You squeak in surprise as he lifts you from the couch, depositing you on the floor in front of him. “It did get me thinking about some things, though.”

You look up at him, leaning forward, eyes wide. “Whatchu mean?”

“Mm…” He shrugs, rolling his shoulders back into the cushion of the couch behind him. “Take your tits out right now and I’ll tell you.” 

“Oh.” You don’t think he’s joking. Not even a little. So you nod seriously, immediately reaching back to fumble over the clasp of your bra.

He brings his arms forward, latching his hands over yours and deftly separating the hooks from their loops.

“Thank youuuu.” You smile as the cups fall from your breasts, leaving you naked above the waist. “Okay. Now, you have to tell me.”

“Mhmm.” He cups your breasts, running his thumbs over your hard nipples as he squeezes gently underneath. “I was thinking about using your mouth properly. It looked so empty with just a finger inside.” 

You shake your head side to side, trying to clear it of whatever fuzz is inhibiting your comprehension. “What…”

He glances down at your jeans, already undone, their high waist bunched low on your hips, then to his, fastened and peaked noticeably under the zipper. “I want your mouth on my cock.” 

“Oh…” you blink up at him, setting a wary hand on his thigh.

He reaches forward and grabs the back of your head. “Now. You wanna be good for me, right?”

“Uhuh. I do. Mhm.” You place your chin on the couch between his legs, looking up as his palm urges you forward. You open your mouth, sucking at him through the fabric dividing you. 

“Take it out yourself. You’re clumsy right now, and I want to watch you try.”

“No ‘m not…” Your words are undercut by the way you fumble with the metal disk. In a second, though, you manage it, pushing the button and zipper aside. He lifts his hips, allowing you to pull his pants and underwear down his legs, laughing indulgently when you get distracted by the way his cock slaps against his navel. Eager to prove yourself, you lean forward, licking a thick stripe up his cock before swirling your tongue around the tip.

“You can do better than that.” 

You look up, pulling your mouth away with a small pop. “Oh… I really am trying  -“

“I know.” He laces a hand in your hair, ruffling it, letting a few strands fall over your face. “You’re really having a hard time right now, aren’t you? I can tell.” A corner of his mouth twitches at your innocently saddened expression. “Don’t worry. I’ll help you.” His face lights up - he’s making it do that, maybe, or maybe it’s just happening on its own. You can’t tell. “Make it nice and easy for you, okay?” 

“Ah-huh.” You sit back on your heels. “Gonna help me.”

“Mhm.” He stands up in front of you, keeping his grip tight on your hair the whole time. “Just get up on your knees and open your mouth, okay?” 

You quickly pick up your thighs from your heels, lolling your tongue out as your eyes flick up and down, taking in the way he towers over you, the way his hair, half down, frames his face even from this low angle. “All done. ‘M waiting.”

“Good girl.” You beam, wide-mouthed, and stick your tongue out even farther as he closes the distance between you. “Don’t pull back, okay?”

“Ah -ah!” He jerks you forward, shoving into your mouth before you can say anything in response. You’re vaguely aware of his mouth, still - he’s sighing, almost humming with approval, but you don’t really notice. You just try not to gag as he uses you, holding your head still and fucking your mouth, thrusting harder each time you moan around him, each time he sees drool trail from your lips. Finally, it’s too much. You wretch around his cock and tug your head away. “I’m - I’m sorry -” you pant, screwing your mouth up in an expression of disappointment. “Just - need a break.”

“Hm?” Some of the bright glow fades from his eyes as he leans over, replaced by a darker gleam. “Too much for you already?” He grasps your jaw tight in one hand as the other tugs on your hair. “I thought you wanted to give me what I wanted. Are you so dazed and stupid right now that you forgot?”

“No - no, I’m not. I remember.” You want to withdraw into yourself, frightened by his sudden change in tone, but you can’t look away. The nail of his index finger strokes across your lips, willing them to part. “Just - need a second. Please.” 

“Hm.” He presses harder on your mouth, forcing his finger inside. “You’re not feeling bad, are you? You decided to come here today. Right? You decided to get yourself into trouble. Decided to smoke more than you could handle like the stupid little stoner bitch you are.” 

You try to talk around his finger, blinking back tears as your response comes out muffled. “Mm-mmm. ‘M not like that.” What does he mean by trouble? you wonder. Why’s he being so, sooo mean? 

He makes eye contact with you as he sees the confusion rising in your face. You breathe a sigh of relief as his gaze softens, smiling back at him as he wipes his drool-covered finger across your face. “Nevermind, sweetheart. I say things like that sometimes, but I don’t mean anything by it. You know that, right?”

“Oh.” You giggle, suddenly feeling very foolish. “Right. I know.” You lean forward again. “I don’t need more of a break. I’m okay.”

“Good.” He lets go of your hair, letting it fall in strands against your neck. “Isn’t your mouth tired, though? I think it must be. I think you’re ready to try something else.” You open and close your mouth again. It still feels full and dry, stuffed with puffy clouds. “How about you take these off -” he points, guiding your eyes to your half-fallen jeans “- and then we’ll do something new, okay?”

“Yeah…” You get on your back, right between the table and the couch, knocking your foot into a table leg as you do. “Oops…” You glance in Gojo’s direction, but he doesn’t move.

“Shh.” Geto shakes his head as you grin up at him, taking a moment to watch you struggle before lowering himself to the floor with you. “I don’t want to have to share you, do I?”

“Mmm…” It’s hard for you to think as he lifts your hips, pulling your panties down past your knees. “Nope. No. You don’t.”

He wraps each hand around one of your thighs, spreading them wide. “You’re such a smart little thing.”

“Thank - Tha -” You stutter to a stop as he nips at your inner thigh. “Ooo.” He bites again, higher and harder, and you tighten your legs around his head.

“What were you saying?” He looks up, narrowing his eyes as you fumble over your own tongue. “Are you really having that much trouble? I’m only asking you to say a few words.”

“I was - was saying-” You gasp softly as he drags his tongue over your cunt, and lose your train of thought all over again.

“I’ll help you,” he says. He laps at you, long and slow, drawing another soft noise from your lips. “I’m going to do that again. And you’re going to say what you were trying to say a moment ago. Gonna be a good, polite girl and thank me.”

You sit up and nod quickly, letting your head fall back as he follows through on his words. “Mm - mhmm. Thank you, Geto. Ahh -” Your hips chase after him as he pulls away, suddenly grinding against empty air. “Nononono. Please come back.”

“You’re cute.” He circles two fingers around your clit before pushing them inside you, curling back and making you squirm as he continues to talk, his voice slow and calming and steady. “I could give you more than my tongue, if you wanted.”

“More?” You’re staring so intently at his hand that you have to force yourself to blink. “You - ahhh - you wanna give me even more?”

“Mhm.” His two fingers split inside you, stretching you open. “I’m being very generous, aren’t I? Letting you take my cock even when you’re acting like this.”

“How I’m acting? Oh...” You really don’t know how you’re acting. And at this moment, you feel like it doesn’t matter. As long as he’s really going to let you -

“Answer me, sweetheart.”

You push your hips forward, forcing his fingers inside of you to the hilt. “Uh-huh. You’re gonna give me your cock. Gonna feel sooo nice.” You look up, remembering something as he tilts his head. Remembering what he likes to hear. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure.” He squeezes your thighs harder as he lifts them, pushing them back as he swells forward, splitting you open in a single stroke that leaves you feeling even more dazed than before. “Don’t close your eyes, sweetheart. Look at me.”

“Ah - ah -” He doesn’t need to tell you. You can’t look away. Your eyes are too wide, too big, overwhelmed by the sight of his face above you as your body is overwhelmed by the jolts and shivers he sends through you. You’re moaning, you think, or maybe just gasping for breath. He might be, too, but you’re not focused on what you can hear. Only what you can feel, vibrating through your core and your legs, flowing through your entire body, its warm intensity at odds with the static of your mind. You let go, let it flow through you, only slightly aware of the way Geto’s cock pulses inside you, letting go in just the same way. 

A moment later, he lets your legs lower to the floor, falling over you and meeting your mouth with his own. “Such a good girl. So good.”

“You’re good,” you whisper, quiet and flushed.

You’re confused when he laughs to himself. “You think so, huh?” he mutters. 

“Yea. Mhm.” As he eases off of you, you sit up and reach for your jeans, still crumpled carelessly around your ankles.

“Whatever you say.”

You bend forward, trying to catch his gaze as he turns from you. As you’re trying, you see Gojo’s face in the corner of your eye, looking just suspicious enough to make you turn completely in his direction.

The blue eye closest to you winks shut. Half a second after you notice it staring.

#▪️new content▪️ #▪️dark content▪️ #jujutsu kaisen #jjk smut #geto suguru #gojo satoru #geto x reader #geto x gojo #stoner geto #geto smut #jjk fanfic #geto fanfic

[jishyucks]

It's the Thought that Counts ‣ njm

‣ genre: implied f2l, fluff, pining, female reader

‣ wc: 1.3k

‣ summary: In which you're Jaemin's plus-one to a wedding and questions start to run through your head rent-free

‣ an: (pretend Jaemin and Jaehyun are cousins in this)–idk if this is cute, but it was cute to me (◕‿◕), it's lowkey cliche but who doesn't like cliches... anyways, gonna start writing 'shorter' scenarios so I can post more frequently, enjoy!!

There was no denying that you’d rather be at home binge-watching a kdrama right now instead of attending a wedding. But because Jaemin had asked you to be his plus one ever so cutely, you couldn’t help but give in to his pleas before he could even begin his nearly endless tangent about why attending weddings was somehow significant to other events in life.

You had nothing against weddings, in fact, you’ve watched the Crazy Rich Asians scene so many times you can’t even count every single time you did, but it was the formality that made you not want to go. Though it was understandable why it was a formal occasion, you wished you didn’t have to care so much about what you wore just to go. Yet here you were, sitting in the passenger’s seat of Jaemin’s car all glammed up to go to his cousin, Jaehyun’s, wedding

“The guys are going, too, so not everyone will be complete strangers,” Jaemin mentioned, “I wanna see your reaction to them in suits and ties.” He turns into a parking lot in front of a venue that was completely packed. You could see other guests making their way into the building, smiles plastered effortlessly on their faces. You figured that this wouldn’t be that bad, especially because of how joyful the occasion was.

Jaemin pulls into a free parking spot, double-checking his reflection in the mirror, “Why didn’t you tell me my hair is all weird?”

You shrugged, “I didn’t think it looked bad.” And it was true, Jaemin looked good no matter how he was styled, but you swore to yourself you were not going to admit that out loud. Especially not to Jaemin.

You hear him huff before reaching up to fix tufts of his hair to look neater. He pats it down before nodding in satisfaction and turning to you, “Are you ready?”

“Yeah, especially since it took you long enough to fix your hair,” you joked. Pulling the car door handle, it pops open, allowing you to slip out easily. Jaemin follows in pursuit, dusting off his suit as he stands up.

“Ya! Na Jaemin!” You look around almost instantly, trying to pick out who called your best friend from the fairly large crowd of people. After a short while of searching, you finally identify them. Among those entering the wedding’s venue, you find the one and only Lee Jeno waving his arms shamelessly to catch yours and Jaemin’s attention, “Over here! Jaemin! Y/N!

You smiled and waved back, trying not to laugh obnoxiously at how ridiculous Jeno looked. As you and Jaemin begin making your way to him, you could see Mark and Chenle join Jeno at the curb, waving along.

“You guys look handsome as always,” you compliment, wondering why Jaemin wanted to see your reaction as if you’d be laughing your ass off at the sight of boys in suits.

Mark beams, “You look beautiful, as always.”

You miss Jaemin throwing a look at Mark before turning to you, “Hey, you didn’t say that to me…” You turned to find Jaemin looking back at you with a pout and a puzzled set of eyebrows, “Don’t I look good?”

You feel your heartbeat quicken in pace at your friend’s wish for a compliment, “Only a little.” A lie. He looked the most attractive out of basically everyone present, but you knew that if you did end up telling him that he looked handsome as hell, it was you who was gonna be losing your shit and not Jaemin. Jaemin would use this opportunity to tease you, and any boosted attention from Jaemin was basically someone asking to be punched in the gut (and hard).

Ignoring the stank glare Jaemin gave you for your reply, you turn back to Mark, Jeno, and Jeno, “Anyways… Where are the others?"

“Inside getting seats,” Chenle replied, “I guess we should go in and join them.” The rest nodded, all turning towards the building and following the other guests through the many entrances. You stuck by Jaemin’s side, who had suddenly gone quiet at the sight of all of his relatives and family friends

“Jaeminie! Is that you?” Out of nowhere, an older boy approaches your small group on the way to the main ceremony area. Jaemin motions for you all to go ahead of him, “Wait! Who’s this? Your girlfriend?” Before you could leave Jaemin’s side to follow the other three, the curious look Jaemin’s relatives had been giving you stopped you in your tracks. He was talking about you.

Jaemin abruptly chokes on air, brows raising in a slight panic. His attention shoots towards you, eyes wide at the assumption, “Oh! Nononono, this is my–uh–really good friend, Y/N!” He laughs awkwardly and turns back to his relative. Did you notice the way his ears turned red?

You would be lying if you said that that hurt a bit, but it was true. You nodded, “Nice to meet you!”

“Y/N this is my cousin, Youngbin,” Jaemin introduces, “Well, Youngbin, nice talking to you, but we really need to get to our seats before they’re gone.”

“No problem,” he smiles, “My mom��s holding my seat, I just had to go find something.” Jaemin nods before maneuvering you towards the actual ceremony area, leaving Youngbin without hesitation.

“I’m sorry about that,” he mumbles, “He’s always been really blunt and stuff.” You two spot the others sitting closer to the front but still in the middle seats.

“It’s okay, Jae,” you say, “It happens.”

Jaemin could only respond with a smile before you both were settled in a spot together between Donghyuck and Jisung.

“You two look cute~” Donghyuck whispers into Jaemin’s ear. There was a hint of a joking tone lining his words, yet Jaemin could sense he was serious.

“Hyuck, shut up,” he whispers back, poking his thigh, “My cousin already mistook her as my girlfriend and she looked offended.” The guests were quickly getting settled, meaning that the ceremony was about to begin.

“You do look like a couple, though, not gonna lie,” Donghyuck shrugs and shifts away into Mark’s side before Jaemin could even attempt subtly poking at him again.

“Yeah, whatever,” Jaemin mumbles. I wish.

The ceremony soon begins, shutting up any ongoing. conversation within the room. Everything went as planned. It was just like they were in movies or shows or books. The groom’s reaction to the bride’s entrance was your favourite part; the reactions of the guests to the bride was a beautiful experience too.

Throughout the entire ceremony, you couldn’t help picture how your wedding would be like or how you would want it. Yes, it was somewhat selfish thinking about yourself during the joyous occasion of another, but there was no stopping your active mind, especially since you were currently attending a wedding.

Would it be better for there to be many guests or only limited to close family and friends? What about the colours? A theme? Which of your friends would you choose as the maid of honour? Where would want it to be?

You let your thoughts run free while miraculously still paying attention to the emotional ceremony. At one point during the vows, you felt a tear threaten to fall, but you sucked it back in.

If someone had been able to read your mind, they were probably drowning in countless of your questions to yourself. It was then the final question had somehow overshadowed the previous ones.

At that moment, the minister spoke with his chest, “You may now kiss the bride!

Watching the two newlyweds lean kiss, you feel yourself unconsciously turn your head up to look at Jaemin, who had been completely stuff throughout the wedding.

Who would your groom be?

As the guests all begin to clap for the couple at the front of the room, your eyes settle on Jaemin, heartbeat skyrocketing.

Jaemin was already looking back at you. And little did you know, he was asking himself who his bride would be.

#nct #nct 127 #nct dream #wayv #nct imagines #nct dream imagines #nct 127 imagines #nct scenarios #nct dream scenarios #nct 127 scenarios #na jaemin #jaemin #jaemin nct #jaemin nct dream #jaemin imagines #na jaemin imagines #na jaemin scenarios #soulmate au #jaemin scenarios #Kpop #Kpop imagines #Kpop scenarios #my writings #my nct writings

[6sakusa]

‘broken’ miya atsumu.

a/n : lol i almost cried writing this so enjoy.

warnings : angst, physical violence (slap), mentions of cheating, mild swearing, me not proof reading.

“y/n, i love you and i want to spend the rest of my life by your side, so will you marry me?” you watched your boyfriend of four years get on one knee. he had told you earlier on to dress up nicely as it was a ‘special’ occasion. you assumed the only reason was the fact that the two of you were going to one of the best resturants in the city which would no doubt produce a bank breaking bill. but you were wrong, the occasion was special and you could easily name it as one of the best moments of your life.

it was hard to imagine that anything would be able to overshadow this, the feeling of bliss in your heart as he said those words to you, the sparkle in your eyes as you watched him pull at the ring which he clearly spent a fortune on, the round of applause ringing in the background from the on-lookers who were also dining. perhaps the only thing that would be better than this would be the birth of your first child, or all your children in fact.

you’d always imagined a life with miya atsumu the moment he asked you to be his girlfriend, you knew that he was more of the apartment type, specifically penthouses since his professional volleyball career allowed him a generous pay. you on the other hand had always been a house type, you longed for something big enough to nurture a family in, the two of you had been bickering about this for years since high school since the both of you were so sure that you would end up being his wife.

“yes, yes, yes oh my god of course i’ll marry you.” you squealed in excitement leaping into his arms with the biggest smile you had ever flaunted in your entire life. and those were the words he wanted to hear more than anything because he too had imagined a perfect life with you.. if only he could abide by it.

you rested in his arms, only pulling away to run your fingers over the pricey ring he had bought you. and of course he knew you’d love it when you had it saved to one of your pinterest boards for years.

“congratulations.” an array of customers proclaimed giving in to the celebratory atmosphere. truly, this was everything you could have asked for in life, you had a wonderful fiance, a beautiful place to live, you were thriving in your career and your social life was buzzing, curtesy of many of atsumu’s friends.

“do you like it?” he asked taking your hand to admire how beautiful you looked under the lighting positioned directly under your table. in addition, the stunning dress you had picked for the night was making you anything but resistible. how badly he wanted to tear the fabric off you and pound into you until sunrise was something he was struggling to hide.

“it’s beautiful.” you were mesmerised by the sight of it and your fiancé’s thoughtfulness, there was a love erupting in you that you weren’t even aware it was possible to feel for another person.

“let’s go home and.. celebrate.” he smirked with a smug expression on his face leading you towards the car. you knew exactly what he was thinking and how needy he was getting but tonight especially you would allow him to indulge in his lewd thoughts.

he held the car door open for you, he noted how much you loved this model, in fact it was your favourite one. it was one of the many things he noted about you as he planned to buy all the things you liked. maybe then you would forgive him, right? he hoped so.

he tapped against the steering wheel as the two of you drove down the night streets of tokyo, you assumed it was out of impatience because you were too distracted by your own thoughts to be as observant as usual with your boyfriends emotional state.

“y/n.. i need to tell you something.” he looked out of the window avoiding making eye contact with you as his drumming got louder. you turned to face him, readying yourself for him to make one of his usual silly jokes, or maybe one of his lewd speeches that would often come out when he got particularly riled up by you.

“what is it?” you asked with a light chuckle, the atmosphere of just a few minutes ago still buzzing within you.

“i- there’s no right way to say this but .. a couple months ago i slept with another woman and — i can’t bear the thought of you marrying me without knowing.” his words spilled out, there was barely a space between them and to any one else it would have been completely incoherent.

“what are you talking about ‘tsumu? that’s not funny.” you rolled your eyes with a smile leaning back into the passenger seat feeling the way the car moved on the smooth roads beneath you. there was a brief pause before atsumu decided to speak again, and between those seconds you thought absolutely nothing of his words. how you wish he would have just laughed along and stayed quiet, why? why did he have to tell you?

“i’m being serious.” he clenched his jaw causing you to whip your head in his direction, his eyes were still ahead on the road but he could feel your glare boaring into his skull. he couldn’t bare to face you, no — he didn’t deserve to face you.

“what?” your expression faltered, a new atmosphere dawned between the both of you. one that was a lot thicker — almost suffocating and heavily juxtaposed the one from the resturant. there was a million thoughts going through your mind right now, how was this possible? how did you not notice? how long had this been going on? why was he just telling you now? it was almost impossible to process it all at once with the feeling of your heart pounding out of your chest and your stomach getting ready to reject the food that you had eaten just minutes ago.

“i’m sorry i just, i got carried away that day you know? it was only a one time thing but i—“ his voice was cut off by a harsh slap to his cheek. you watched as the surface of his face turned red, he didn’t bother reprimanding you for getting physical, if he was being honest he expected it from you, actually he expected more. it was almost scary the way you weren’t shouting and screaming at him, the way you weren’t kicking and clawing away at him, it made him feel all the much worse.

you sighed to yourself, your breath was shaky as your heart was shattering in your chest and you hadn’t even noticed that you were crying. maybe it was because you were too occupied realising the way your life had all come crashing down in a matter of moments. your fiancé had cheated on you.. what does that mean for your relationship? would you even call him your fiancé anymore? and what about your home with him? not to mention the friendships you had with an array of his friends. what did this all mean?

“why?” your voice was below a whisper, you could barely muster up the voice to speak, there was a sickening feeling in your chest that you were way too focused on instead of your words.

“it wasn’t you.. it’s never been you, you’re perfect you’re everything i’ve ever wanted, i don’t know why, i’m just an idiot i was so stupid and i’ve regretted it everyday since... but i’m gonna fix it i promise i’ll fix it.” his voice was shaky and uneven, you could tell without looking at him that he was on the verge of tears. but that was nothing compared to what you were feeling. the fact that you had laid next to him for months without knowing that he had bedded another woman. did he touch her the way he did you? did he prefer her to you? was she prettier than you?

“how? how are you going to fix it?” you turned to him, tears staining your mascara and eyeliner, there was no doubt know that you looked like a mess. what you didn’t know is that atsumu still thought you were the prettiest girl in the world but you were too occupied being hit by the crushing realisation that the best moment of your life had just turned into the worst. love had so easily turned to hate and all your time together meant absolutely nothing to you anymore.

“well we’re going to get married right? and you’ve always liked this car right babe? i’ll buy you one. and there’s that house you always wanted, i can put a down payment on it today—“

“no.” you buried your head into your hands at the thought of your next words. four years? what did four years of your life mean now? what did you have left? “we’re not getting married.”

“wha— but you already said yes, come on don’t be like that, don’t you remember it was just a few minutes ago, you were so happy.” he spewed out words frantically, desperate to say something, anything, that would make you stay. he was prepared to sell his soul if it meant keeping you by his side, the only woman he had ever loved, the only one he had ever imagined a future with, the only one he wanted to start a family with, you were his everything.

“that was before you told me that you cheated on me and here you are throwing all these material things at me, a car? really miya? four years together and you’re here treating me like some gold-digging whore after breaking my heart? that’s why you proposed to me isn’t it? you think this ring will make me stay.” you were crying uncontrollably now and nothing atsumu could say to you or offer you would ever make you feel better.

“miya? y/n please i don’t know what else to do i’m trying to be honest with you—“

“pull over.” you interrupted him once again and he had no choice but to oblige. he knew that right now he was in no position to deny your wishes. but this was all temporary.. because you would come around right?

“i don’t understand why you would do this to me.” you bit down on your lip hard enough to draw blood, your head was spinning and it felt like your throat was closing up. you needed to leave, because miya atsumu was now too suffocating for you to be around.

“i know, i know i’m sorry, please y/n i’m so sorry — look i’m getting the house now i still want a future with you.” he tugged on your arm begging you to look at his phone where he was already entering his account details for the place you had been fawning over.

“don’t fucking touch me.” you swatted his hand away. you didn’t want him to be anywhere near you knowing how close he had been with another.

“i’ll give you space if you need it, i’ll give you whatever you want just please — don’t leave me, please don’t.” his hands were shaking now as he tried entering various different numbers into his phone, he didn’t care if he had to buy the entire house now, he’d pay for the whole thing this second if it meant he could walk you down the aisle in a couple months time.

“i don’t need anything from you.. i don’t want this anymore, forget about that house, forget about a family together, forget about marrying me.”

“no no no y/n you’re just angry right now but please don’t say things like that you don’t know how it makes me feel.” he turned to face you and his heart clenched at the tears running down your face. your makeup was smudged and you had pushed yourself to the very edge of the car just to make sure you were as far away from him as possible.

“and what about how i feel huh? did you think about that when you were fucking some other girl wherever the two of you were? you have no idea how i feel, you have no idea..” you brought your hands to your face, concealing your weak figure from his eyes.

“i don’t want this.” you removed the ring from your finger, the same one you had saved to your pinterest board for years, the same one you had imagined atsumu using to propose to you countless times, the same one that had featured in both the best and worst moment of your life.

“y/n please..” his words were stuck in his throat now, he was finally realising that there was nothing he could say — nothing he could do to make you stay. you wouldn’t come around, you respected yourself too highly for that, he would never be able to call you his again. what did his life mean?

“i hate you miya atsumu.” you pushed the door open walking out of his car despite how much he begged you to stay. you didn’t care how he chased you down the road, you didn’t care what he said to you, you didn’t think you would ever care again.. you didn’t have it in you.

and the curse placed upon atsumu? he would never be able to find love again, because he betrayed the only person to stay by his side with unconditional love for years .. there was no one on the planet who loved him the way you did.

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[wavesmp3]

you jump; i jump

sunwoo x reader 

requested from sensory prompts #46: the waver in someone’s voice when they’re stressed genre: spy au, exes (ish) to lovers wc: 5.6k  warnings: cursing, tiny bit of gore/blood

Sunwoo used to pride himself for being able to keep his cool, in even the most unimaginable situations. He kept his exterior when Haknyeon turned out to be double crossing their agency, Creker, and secretly sending information to a rivaling one the whole time. Sunwoo didn’t crack when his entire mission in Sydney blew up right in his fucking face, never even flinched when his gear malfunctioned dumping him in a hospital for a week. But all those instances seem to fall flat now. All the times where Sunwoo stayed strong seem to disappear the moment he feels a tap on his shoulder and turns around only to come face to face with you. “What are you-“ he falters, grasping at the last bits of crumbling pride and hanging on to the dip in his voice. “What are you doing here?” 

“You forgot this,” you continue, ignoring him entirely, “forgot it in Vienna specifically.” You dangle a watch in front of his face. The same watch he lost somewhere in Austria three months ago, at the same time that he was in the middle of the most intense and longest mission the agency had ever given him, and more notably, around the same time he met you. “Don’t look so shocked.” You scoff when he fails to respond. “You told me you were gonna be here.” 

Sunwoo laughs, except it’s less of a laugh and more of an exhale of pure disbelief. “I know what I said, but you’re…” his voice trails off, some part of him unable to finish the sentence and another part of him still too disturbed to believe it. 

You tilt your head with faux confusion. “I’m what?”

Sunwoo gulps. “You’re supposed to be dead.”

VIENNA, AUSTRIA  THREE MONTHS AGO 

Sunwoo remembers, with a starling amount of clarity, all that happened three months ago. He can recall every day he spent roaming the streets of Vienna with you despite the way he’s been trying to drown out the memories and douse his lingering feelings. 

When he met you at a pub on one of his first nights there, he told himself he entertained your conversation because, well, to put it bluntly, he thought you were cute. Although the small tug in his gut doesn’t help justify why he found himself stumbling back to his hotel room with you by his side. And there’s really no good excuse for the tiny sting of disappointment Sunwoo feels when he wakes up alone the next morning. 

It’s two days after that night when Sunwoo sees you again, sitting on a bench with a book in one hand and a to-go cup of coffee in the other. It’s an odd coincidence that he should see you in Vienna again, but the small pang of doubt is quickly replaced with a more promising burst of elation. Sunwoo can’t tell if it’s exhilarating or terrifying.

“Ah,” you mutter when you notice him approaching, “Sunwoo right?” It’s a facade, Sunwoo thinks to himself, he knows you remember his name, knows you only pretend to forget. But he doesn’t mention that, instead he nods rather lamely, shoving his fists into his pockets and burying away the voice of reason in the back of his head telling him this is a mistake. “Sit.” You say, moving your things to the other side of the bench and patting the now empty spot next to you. “I’ve been waiting for you.” 

And in retrospect, it’s quite obvious that Sunwoo should have found the words alarming. Really, he should have begun to put his guard up the second he spotted you in Vienna again. But at that moment in time, the only thing Sunwoo can think to ask is if he was worth the wait. 

Your tongue darts out, swiping at your bottom lip in thought for the smallest of seconds, before disappearing into your mouth again. “Yeah,” you say, lips turning up into an intrigued smile, “you were.” 

—

Sunwoo doesn’t think much of the way he comes to trust you so easily, telling you the truth about his job in the darkness of the hotel room. He doesn’t think anything of the way you hang onto his every word without ever sharing much about yourself. And when one day, you sit down at the cafe booth across from him and ask, “what’s your current mission,” Sunwoo doesn’t think twice before telling you everything about his objective to infiltrate Pegasus. He also doesn’t notice the phone call you make soon after. 

—

When the truth does come out, it comes fast, like water rushing off a cliff and crashing into Sunwoo sitting unsuspecting at the bottom. It comes in the form of a charity event that he only attends as part of the mission which sent him to Vienna to begin with. The truth arrives, like a rock in his gut, at the same second that Sunwoo sees you across the hall. You, who he last saw at the hotel, and you, who’s supposed to be on a train to Paris right now. And when your eyes finally catch his, there’s something unmistakable swimming in them. You’ve been caught, Sunwoo thinks, finally placing a name to the familiar way you swallow and dart your eyes around the room. Sunwoo recognizes the feeling, vaguely remembers the rush he felt once in Santiago and again in New York. 

“I can explain,” you hiss, quiet and breathless, finding him outside the hall after a few minutes. 

And Sunwoo knows he should be dying for an explanation of what you’re doing here or who you’re really working with. Some small part of Sunwoo knows that he should already be replaying every conversation and trying to determine how much information he’s given you to use against him. But another, larger part of him, that’s poking at his heart and prodding at his brain, chooses to stare at your lying eyes, study the face he’s come to memorize, and lamely ask, “how much of…” his voice tapers off, gesturing to the empty space in between you two, “of this was a lie?”

You don’t respond, but in the silence Sunwoo finds the answer anyways. 

All of it.

—

It’s not long after that night that a new message from the case officer shows up for him.  

You’re on thin ice. New mission: get rid of that Pegasus agent. 

PRESENT TIME  THREE MONTHS AFTER VIENNA

“You still haven’t told me what you’re doing here?” Sunwoo asks you again, shifting in his plastic red chair and keeping his gaze focused on the street you’re both seated beside. He hadn’t planned on hanging out after crossing paths with you earlier today. In fact, the only thing he wanted to do was put as much distance between the two of you as possible, but when you offer him a meal in exchange for a conversation, his rumbling stomach agrees before he can even consider the offer. The scene you lead him to is a busy one, filled with people rushing down the road and bustling behind each of the food stalls. It’s a mosh-posh of neon signs, kicked up dust, and the aroma of food being fried. More importantly, it’s a loud area, one where you and Sunwoo can talk freely without the worry of being heard by someone seated nearby. He takes a bite into his skewer, waiting for your response. 

“And you still haven’t told me why you didn’t follow through with the mission,” you counter, twirling your lime green straw with the tip of your finger. “The one where you were supposed to kill me.” 

You say it plainly, but something in Sunwoo’s stomach turns hard at the reminder anyways. “We’re spies,” he mutters behind clenched teeth, “not assassins.” 

“I don’t know,” you shrug, taking a sip from your coke, “the job description is pretty vague.” 

The words are met with a taut silence, a snap of Sunwoo’s eyes towards yours, and a search for any implication of murder behind the sentence. 

“It’s a joke,” you choke, wiping the coke that slips from your mouth and quickly shaking your head, “I haven’t killed anyone.”

“Well anyways,” Sunwoo continues, “I tried to finish the mission. Even hired someone to find you.” And as soon as the words leave his mouth, Sunwoo realizes he’s told you too much, realizes he’s let the truth slip too easily--again. Biting his lip, he thinks this must be what people mean when they say ‘old habits die hard’. 

“He didn’t follow through.” You tell him as if to fill him in on how exactly you’re still alive and sitting across from him right here, right now, miles away from Vienna and months after Sunwoo’s hire took his money and ran. “But you knew he wouldn’t, didn’t you?”

And this you say with a taunting smile, catching his eyes like there’s a private joke concealed behind them. Sunwoo only gulps and pulls his focus back to the busy street.

“So what do you want with me?”

“I left Pegasus.” You answer, clearing your throat.

Sunwoo waits. He waits for you to take it back, for you to laugh at his widened eyes and say it’s a joke. The punchline never comes. “You’re an idiot.” He settles on.

“And I’ve got two agencies who’d prefer me to be dead right about now.” You grimace. “But despite the bounty on my head, I’m still here which means you’re probably not on great terms with Creker either.”

“Get to the point.”

“We both have people who want us dead. We both have next to nothing to lose at this point. So let’s team up.” You pause, checking Sunwoo’s reaction. He watches you intently, body pushing against the creaking plastic table in an attempt to hear you better. With an almost mischievous glint in your eyes and a satisfied quirk, you continue: “Let’s take back what we stole for them.”

There’s a long moment where Sunwoo just stares at you, deciphering what to make of the proposition. You appear genuine, Sunwoo decides leaning away from the table until his back hits the chair, but Sunwoo isn’t exactly sure how much he trusts his own judgement considering the last time he decided you were sincere you had been lying to him left and right.

Sunwoo lifts his hand to the vendor of the food stall you’re sitting by. The previous glint in your eyes is gone, overshadowed by a darker shade of doubt. “What are you doing?” you finally ask, voice lower and less excited than it had been a second ago.

With a tired sigh, he replies, “I’m gonna need more food while you explain your plan.”

Sunwoo has to swallow back the smile that nearly emerges at how happy you get.

--

It’s a simple enough idea. Clear our names, you had explained, wipe ourselves entirely from both agencies. And it’ll work too, Sunwoo realizes when you begin the second explanation on the logistics of the whole operation. The only downside to your plan is you. Because the last person Sunwoo wants to start a new mission with is the same person who broke his heart three months ago. And it’s bothersome, almost, how calm you are and how collected you appear, especially compared to how scattered Sunwoo feels just to be around you again.

“What do you think?” You ask once you’ve explained your plan completely, tapping anxiously on the table.

“I think,” Sunwoo starts, inhaling deeply, “you’ve thought about this way too much.”

“Well, yeah,” you scoff, gulping down some more coke, “three months is kind of a long time.”

And yeah, he thinks, it is. But despite the time that’s passed since you’ve last seen each other and despite the way Sunwoo thought he was over you, his stomach still flips each time you look his way. He just prays that the past three months have at least somewhat watered down how he used to feel about you.

“How do I know you won’t ditch me after we clear you?” Sunwoo asks, pushing away the thoughts of lingering heartache to a corner of his mind.

“We’ll do you first.” You state simply. “Steal your file off Creker and get the bounty off your head first. Then we’ll do me.”

“And then how do you know that I won’t ditch you?”

You falter at that, frowning for the smallest of seconds, then say, “I don’t.”

Sunwoo nods, pretending to contemplate your offer. But in all transparency, Sunwoo knew he’d agree to your plan despite the bile that turns up at your name because with the way he’s been hiding in a crappy motel and eating instant ramen every night, it’s kind of hard to refuse any proposition that gives him the slightest chance at an out from Creker. 

“Okay,” he finally utters, wiping the crumbs of his second skewer off his hands, “let’s do it.” You meet his eyes expectantly. Nodding, he says,

“Let’s team up.”

//

You and Sunwoo clash more than anything else on the first day of prepping for the mission, crammed in a corner of Sunwoo’s dingy motel with two half finished cans of red bull sitting forgotten on the table, fighting about even the smallest details.

“I know the building,” Sunwoo argues, pointing to the floor plan you have pulled up on your laptop, “and this is the entrance we should use.”

“But using this entrance,” you refute, dragging your finger across the screen to show him exactly what you mean, “will give us better access to security and admin. And trust me, I know the building better than you do.”

“How do you—” Sunwoo stills. Something seems to register in your eyes at that moment as well, a small recognition of the tiny slip up, a barely audible acknowledgement that comes in the form of a cough. And all at once, Sunwoo’s reminded of the time he spent spilling his heart to you in Vienna under more covers than he was aware of. Sunwoo’s harshly thrown against the realization that you must’ve been watching him, surveying him long before you ever found him in that Austrian pub.

“See, I knew this wouldn’t work.” He grumbles, shaking his head. “You know too much about me. No, actually, you know everything about me. And I--” there’s a dip in his tone, “I know nothing about you.”

“Fine then, ask.”

“What?”

“Whatever it is you think will even the playing field between us. Whatever it is you want to know about me,” you shut the laptop and turn your body to face him completely, an action that exudes largely frustration but more faintly, guilt, “just ask.”

--

Sunwoo learns more about you than he had intended to. He learns about the origin of the scar that runs along your spine. A fucked up operation in Shanghai, you tell him, writing over the lie you told him three months ago about it being from your childhood. He learns about your old partner Younghoon and about the shadow falling over your forehead at the sound of his name. He’s told about how you got involved with Pegasus to begin with, a similar story to Sunwoo’s beginning with Creker: an unlucky concoction of desperation and coincidence. You tell him, with reluctance, your most embarrassing story, followed by a long list of firsts and favorites. So by the time night falls, with two empty red bulls at the foot of the bed and the building’s floor plan now forgotten behind the black screen of your laptop, Sunwoo learns enough to rebuild a fraction of the trust he lost.

//

Everything goes smoother after that. You and Sunwoo seem to fall into a rhythm, meeting at a café in the morning and at the motel in the afternoon, planning out the missions with far less difficulty than before. A rather quick adjustment, from both of your ends, and an even faster allocation of responsibilities. He finds himself looking forward to sitting in front of your open laptop each day and conjuring new ways to distract you every hour. 

And it’s after meeting up with you one night, not as partners but—perhaps more cruelly—as friends, that a dangerously familiar warmth blooms in his chest and refuses to wilt away when he sees you again the next day. Sunwoo knows that he should be doing something, anything to blow out the flame, but instead he feeds the fire and prays that this time it spreads from his heart to yours.

//

“Where’d you get all of this?” Sunwoo questions one day when you show up at the motel with a suitcase full of equipment. An assortment of laptops, earpieces, weapons, and randomly picked gadgets.

“Took it from Pegasus before I left,” you smirk, pulling out an earpiece and holding it out in front of his ear. “You’re usually on the field, right? The one in action?” He nods. “Good, you can be the agent for this mission then,” you mumble, setting down the earpiece and holding up another. “I’m usually the person behind the computer anyways. Was even a handler for a mission in Seoul once.” You place the earpiece in his palm and begin to pull out the other pieces of equipment from the suitcase.

“What about Vienna?” Sunwoo says, inspecting a certain gadget from the case. “You were on the field then.” And it’s a question that would’ve been asked with malice if it had come up a couple weeks ago, but right now, there’s nothing but curiosity behind Sunwoo’s words.

“Oh,” you hesitate, a small smile appearing briefly, “I guess I do both.”

Sunwoo doesn’t ponder over your answer for long.

It’s later that day, right as you’re about to leave, that you frown at Sunwoo’s head, matter-of-factly saying, “you should change your hair before the mission.” Then, with a laugh bubbling behind your teeth, you add, “again.”

(Sunwoo changed his appearance a lot. One of the tactics that had stuck from his training days. Never really in big ways, but small changes here and there every couple of months. Sometimes it was a new piercing that he’d wear for a year and let close up in the next, and other times the change came in the form of a temporary tattoo imprinted on his neck whilst in Vancouver with Kevin. When Sunwoo met you in Vienna his hair was a light brown that he had gotten done in Tokyo and hadn’t bothered to touch up since. So when the time had come to change something again, he headed to the hair salon.

“When’d you do this?” you asked him that night, running a hand through the new red hair. 

“Just today.” He answered, hoping you wouldn’t ask for a reason. 

“I like it.” 

“More than the brown?”

“Way more.” You whispered, leaning in until he felt the breath of your words on his lips. 

And in the moment before you closed the distance, Sunwoo had made a silent vow to never change his hair again.)

Sunwoo gets his hair done the day after you suggest it, and when he returns to the motel from the salon, he finds you already there.

“Oh good, you’re back.” You mumble, arms full and an extra key card to his room that he had given you out of convenience a while back held between your teeth. “I just came to drop these off because I have to go to—" you stop, straightening yourself and eyes fixated on him. “You got your hair done.”

It’s an observation, a small, stupid thing really. A comment made in passing that should feel routine with as much time as you and Sunwoo spend together and one that should feel even more mundane considering you were the one to suggest it. But there’s something about the way you say the words that makes Sunwoo feel slightly breathless anyways. “Yeah,” he finally affirms, running a hand through his now black hair, “I did.”

You nod in acknowledgement, setting the things in your hands down, then turn to leave. 

“Wait,” he calls out. You do, pausing three paces away from the door and give a long look to the hand he’s placed on your arm to stop you before turning around to face him. And the next words seem to fall off the edge of Sunwoo’s mouth at that moment, tumbling back down his throat and landing heavily in the pit of his stomach. “Do you still…” he hesitates, attempting to smooth over the nervousness folding up in the corners of his mind. 

“What?” 

“Do you still like my hair?”

You consider it for a moment, bringing a hand up to tug at the new black fringe. And there’s something unmistakably domestic about the way you tilt your head in concentration, eyes fixed on Sunwoo’s hair as if there’s nothing more important for you to be doing in this moment. He watches you evaluate his hair closely. 

“Yeah,” you finally say, eyes meeting his and something like a double meaning swimming in them, “I still like it.”

//

The first mission goes smoothly thanks to you sitting back at the motel instructing Sunwoo which turns to take and what files to download. So with a flash drive containing all the information he needs to free himself from the agency stuffed in his pocket, he turns to leave, whispering into his earpiece, “is the exit path clear?”

“Shit.”

He stops walking. “What?”

“It’s blocked. I think I can get you out another way, but you’re not gonna like it.”

“Just tell me.”

“Okay, go one story below. Take two rights and then a left.” He does as you say, feet hitting the ground as quietly and as quickly as possible. The less time he spends in the building the better. “At the end of the hall, there’s a window.” You say once he’s near the place you directed him too. His stomach drops. “Jump from it.” 

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” He breathes, studying the drop with grimace. “I really hate heights.”

“I know.” And there’s a misplaced softness when Sunwoo hears you mutter, “I remember.” You wait a beat. “Do you trust me?” 

“Do I trust you?” He echoes, dread and disbelief coating his words. “I don’t even—”

“Just answer the question, Sunwoo. Do you?”

“I—” he studies the drop again, thinks and overthinks the newfound steadiness in your voice. Quietly, he mumbles, “yeah.”

“Then jump.” You tell him how exactly to do it as well, where to find the rope you packed and which hook is best to use. He does as you say, preparing for a jump he hasn’t decided to take yet. And once everything is prepared, the only thing that passes between you and Sunwoo on the intercom is silence. “Hey,” you mutter after a long while, something like a joke audible in your voice, “you jump; I jump, jack.”

“Except you aren’t jumping.”

“Technically, yes, that’s true but—”

“Okay, okay, okay. Shut up.” Sunwoo inhales deeply, closing his eyes and letting silence fill the intercom again. The silence, however, is interrupted the second he hears a group of voices travelling from somewhere down the hall. His eyes snap open.

“Sunwoo—”

“Fuck it.”

He jumps.

— 

“You’re bleeding.” Is the first thing Sunwoo hears when he walks through the motel room’s door, quickly followed by you rushing to him, tilting his head with a finger against his chin, and inspecting the cut above his eyebrow. 

“Yeah well your little jump stunt didn’t make for the smoothest of landings.” 

He means it as a joke. A bad one he realizes when you pull your hand away, eyes dropping from his face and guilt hanging over your head. “Sorry about that.” 

He shrugs. “It didn’t kill me.” 

“Come on,” you beckon, grabbing the first aid kit and heading to the bathroom, “I’ll help you bandage them.” 

Sunwoo sits on top of the closed toilet lid, folding up his pant leg to examine the gash running across his shin. The cut, he realizes, isn’t nearly as bad as it feels, but you make a small face at the sight of it anyways. It doesn’t take you very long to clean the cut on his leg, quickly finishing it while kneeling on the cold bathroom tile and asking him questions about the mission.

“No stitches?” He wonders when you pat a bandage in place.

You shake your head. “You should be fine. Nothing more than a gloried scrape really.” You add teasingly while rearranging the objects in the first aid kit. And when you laugh at the look he gives you for the comment, Sunwoo does his best to ignore the fluttering that appears in his gut at the sound. 

You move on from the cut on his leg, placing the first aid kid on top of the counter and poking the bruise that’s forming above his knee before getting up yourself. He smacks your hand away.

“How’d you know about my fear of heights by the way?”

“You told me one night in Vienna.” You answer, tearing open an alcohol wipe packet. “Do you not remember?”

He shakes his head.

Frowning, you let out a small, “oh.”

Neither of you say anything after that. And Sunwoo’s so focused on the frown that’s yet to leave your face that he barely registers the way you lean towards him for better access, propping your knee on top of the toilet and between his legs for balance. Although he does notice the warmth that radiates off your body. And a minute after that, he notices how much longer it takes you to clean this, smaller cut than it took to clean the one on his leg.

“Sorry.” You quickly apologize when you press against the cut too harshly. Sunwoo waves you off. “I am sorry though.” You repeat, seriously, lips still turned down in a frown and brows knit together.

“It’s really fine.” He chuckles, amused by the amount of gravity in the apology. 

“No. For Vienna.” The amusement dies in the back of his throat. “I never apologized for…” you falter there, fingers paused against his forehead, “for that. But I am sorry.”

“It was your mission.” Sunwoo gulps. “You were being a good agent.”

“And a shitty person.” You say, no hint of a joke laced in the statement. “In fact, the mission was just to observe you. Make sure you didn’t find out anything too important about Pegasus. Meeting you was mostly on accident. And everything that followed,” you bite your lip, and Sunwoo can’t tell if you’re biting back a smile or a frown, “all those other parts just sort of came naturally.”

The flame in his chest from before bursts into a bonfire, filling his lungs with a hopeful smoke. “Naturally?” He echoes.

“Yeah,” you repeat, tongue darting out in concentration while you complete the last step of smoothing out the bandage. You don’t lean away when you finish. You don’t remove your knee from between his legs. Don’t pull away the hand you have holding back his hair or the one resting against the side of his face. Nothing but your eyes move, trailing down until they find his, visibly gulping, then wandering further below. “Naturally.”

And the word is like a spell, lifting his chin and drawing him towards you until his lips are brushing against yours. It’s barely a kiss, a small hesitant press of lips that lasts no longer than a second, but one that has Sunwoo’s heart pounding wildly in a way it never did three months ago. He pauses there, lips unmoving and hovering just below yours, waiting for you.

You don’t move. Neither leaning in nor away. His gaze flickers up to your eyes, finds them half open, focused on the upper curve of his lip. He captures your lips between his again, a second attempt that is met with response when you lean into it, inhaling him in for a tiny blissful moment and exhaling him out in the next, pushing him back by the shoulders and stepping away yourself.

“I should…”

“Fuck.”

“I should go.”

And you’re gone before he can say anything else. 

// 

The kiss is ignored by both of you while prepping for the second half of the mission. A silent agreement to act like it never even happened and another one to not discuss whatever misplaced feelings led to it. It’s almost sickening how easily you and Sunwoo fall back into being just partners. Especially considering the fact that Sunwoo’s feelings haven’t faded, the bonfire in his chest still burning with the same brightness. So Sunwoo spends his days with you, attempting to put out the fire between his lungs, and he spends his nights alone, replaying the kiss you both pretend to ignore.

“Tomorrow’s the big day.” You mutter on the last night, a trail of anxiousness slipping off your tongue. “And then we’ll be done.” 

Sunwoo only nods, watching how your tongue pokes the inside of your cheek and mulling over whether you mean done with the mission or done with him.

--

The Pegasus mission doesn’t go nearly as smoothly as the Creker one, complications toppling around Sunwoo from the moment he begins. They start small first: a locked door resulting in a change of entry and a janitor straggling in a hallway that should have been clear. He makes it to his first destination eventually, quickly shuffling through the room of file cabinets until he finds your physical files, slipping them into his bag, and heading to the next room with you whispering directions into his ear. The next room is empty when Sunwoo arrives. He works quick, bypassing the security system and fingers flying across to find your information.

“Faster.” He hears you mutter over the earpiece. A hasty reminder of what you had told him earlier that week: the room never stays empty for long.

“Got it.” He exhales, finally pinpointing your files and beginning the process of downloading and deleting them.

“Sunwoo,” he hears an elevator ding from somewhere outside the room at the same time he hears you, “someone’s coming.”

He doesn’t move. Keeping one eye on the closed door and the other on the still-pending status of your files. “I’m almost done.”

“If you leave now, they won’t see you.” Voices fill the hall. “But you have to leave now.”

“I’m not done yet.”

The voices move closer, louder. “It’s not worth it. Please, just go!”

He hears them behind the door. “It’s you.”

There’s a jingle of keys. “How will you—”

“Hey,” the door unlocks with a click, “you jump; I jump, right?”

“Sunwoo—”

He pulls the earpiece out at the exact moment that the door swings open.

-- 

The rooftop is obscenely pretty at this hour, with the golden sun partly hidden by a high-rise building but still growing in the distance, scattering its light across the sky, and casting a golden shadow on everything it touches. It’s a gorgeous sight, and yet, there’s no one but Sunwoo here to appreciate it.

“You’re okay.”

He whips around only to find you standing on the rooftop with him, body trembling and hands clasped over your mouth. Behind you, the door to the roof is still falling closed. Your eyes are red, dark circles hanging under them that make it look as if you haven’t slept days. Silently, Sunwoo wonders how he’s just now noticing your sudden restlessness, and a small part of him hopes—no prays that whatever’s chasing your sleep away is the same thing chasing his.

“I got it.” He says, pulling out the flash drive he stayed to retrieve. Your eyes never flicker off his. “How’d you find me?”

“How’d you get out?”

Neither of you answer. Instead, you begin to walk towards him, asking if he’s hurt with a voice that’s too soft and too concerned for Sunwoo to make out an answer. You ask it again.

“No, I’m not hurt.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

You stop in front of him. Close enough for Sunwoo to see the tears welled up in your eyes. “You’re okay.” You repeat, voice wavering with a sudden gust of wind.

“I am, but I—” he hesitates; you take a step towards him, “I miss you.” He succumbs to the fire in his chest; lets it fill his lungs, burn up his throat, and throw the sentence, “I just miss you so much,” out of his mouth without bothering to hide the crack in it.

He meets your eyes and finds a starling amount of clarity in them. “I missed you too.”

“Really?”

You laugh at that, nodding your head and stepping closer to him again. “I missed you before we ever met.”

He stares at you. For too long probably. Watches a smile grace your features, spreading like a fire. The flame feels familiar. And for the first time since seeing you after Vienna, Sunwoo doesn’t have to hold back the urge to ask, “Can I kiss you now?”

“Please.”

He does. Lips crashing into yours, and you meeting the motion halfway, leaning into his lips, his body, him. A fervent want present in the way you pull at his neck and grab onto the collar of his shirt that would’ve probably been surprising if it wasn’t matched completely by him. He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling your body flush against his and deepening the kiss for a second more.

You both pull away, just barely, faces still close and bodies pressed against each other.

“Hey,” you begin, breath hot against his lips and a knowing smirk appearing briefly, “was I worth the wait?”

And suddenly Sunwoo’s in Vienna again, sitting on a bench, and asking you the same question.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, smiling, “you were.”

//

a/n: i apologize this request took me forever to get around too. and if the actual spy aspects to this fic make zero sense then my bad i was spit balling here. brownie points if u can find the scene inspired by queens gambit and the other scene inspired by the office lmao

#the boyz scenarios #sunwoo scenarios #sunwoo x reader #the boyz x reader #the boyz imagines #sunwoo imagines #sunwoo fanfic #the boyz fanfic #the boyz fluff #sunwoo fluff #sunwoo angst #the boyz angst #tbz scenarios #the boyz drabbles #sunwoo drabbles #kim sunwoo #the boyz #mine #you jump; i jump #lowqualityseventeen #was gonna make a banner or something for this but then got lazy and thot its not that deep :] #also i have zero graphic design skills

[oliviayamaoka]

The Roseville Murders (Chapter 2)

Hi, just wanted to say I adjusted the plot slightly and will go into more detail with the story next chapter! This was a bit experimental and I wanted to write the growing relationship / rivalry between Y/N and Danny. I also wanted to write Y/N as a girlboss and to be just as witty as Danny!

Anyways, please comment any ideas or suggestions you may wanna see in future chapters! I have this planned out but would love any ideas or stuff I can add into the story! Tysm for reading!

It rained softly outside as you took a seat at your workplace. The desk was a bit cluttered with your art, notes, junk, and your papers regarding your current investigation.

One of the drawings on your desk was a sketch of Ghostface’s mask, attached to it was a few notes regarding the origin of the mask. Did Ghostface care for the history of it, anyways? You already theorized he was a narcissist who took pride in his work. Perhaps, he admired Edward Munch and his infamous “The Scream” artwork? Or maybe he based his persona off of it? You weren’t too sure but you did research the distribution and the company that made the masks. It wasn’t a particular popular company but it only distributed to the USA, Canada, and Brazil.

Ghostface didn’t seem too caring when it came to where he stabbed victims. As long as there was a lot of blood and something only he could perceive as art. And maybe you too. You felt excited, you already had a three year timeline. Maybe, you could get ahold of other states and ask if there’s been similar killings. Maybe even Brazil and Canada? You had to pinpoint a location and see if you could find just one name, any name.

Three years. Three countries. A part of you doubted he was Brazilian. Maybe Canadian? You weren’t so sure, you were pretty sure he was American. Y/N would probably have to go to the library tommorow to do research and use the slowly growing internet. Your research was suddenly halted when you knocked your sketchbook over.

Our slid a page. You kneeled down to pick it up, holding it as you examined the dark sketch. On the paper was a sketch of claws? No, they also looked like tentacles. Ever since the incident, you had dreams of these tentacle claws grabbing you and pulling you away from life as you know it. It must’ve been a sign of trauma or maybe it represented what happened through the nightmares? You slid it back into your sketchbook, deciding not to dwell on it. It would only make your room feel more depressing.

Beside your sketchbook was your leather journal. Y/N wrote everything in there, for mental health reasons. You included the incident and what Jonathan did for you. Your previous therapist said journaling your thoughts helped the healing process. It worked but journaling about how you killed your abuser was hell.

Your thoughts were suddenly interrupted when your phone rang. It was a chunky, black mobile phone you got about a week ago? Y/N reached for it and answered.

“Hello?” You answered, using your other hand to organize your desk.

“Hello?” A voice answered, it was a male by the sound of it.

“Hi, who’s this?” Y/N asked, paying no mind to the phone call as she started to put some of her stuff away. Art supplies.

“Who’s this?” He replied.

“Y/N L/N, am I who you’re trying to reach?” You asked, sitting back down.

“Ah, you’re no fun, detective.” He chuckled as you stopped, furrowing your eyebrows in confusion. Who was this?

“My apologies but, this is my personal phone. Can I ask who gave you this number?” You questioned him.

“Why does it matter, gorgeous? I know it’s you now.” He responded.

“Please don’t call me that. And yes, I am indeed a detective but I’d feel more comfortable discussing anything with you on my work phone.” Y/N said sternly.

“Oh, yeah… Detective L/N, huh? Think you’re some sort of hotshot because you’re new? Where did you come from? Washington? Gonna take more than the feds to catch me.” He said to you.

You listened intently and stopped for a moment. Catch him? Must be a stupid prank. Although, not a funny one since he had your personal phone number. An eyebrow raised as you looked at your notes on Ghostface.

“You still haven’t told me your name. Let’s not be rude, yeah?” You responded, being a little more cocky since you were off-duty.

“Awe, don’t tell me you forgot my name. I’ll give you a hint… I’ve been quite famous lately. In fact, I think you’ve taken quite the interest in me, Y/N.” The man teased. It was 100% Danny.

“I asked for a name, not an alias.” You said.

“Maybe after dinner, hotshot.” Danny said to you as you furrowed your eyebrows.

“I’m not in Roseville to play games. Either verify you are who you claim to be or quit wasting my time.” Y/N spoke with a stern tone.

“My last victim had three stab wounds to the throat. It was going to be two but their scream wasn’t as satisfying as I thought it would be. And they had a tattoo on their upper thigh. Bella Smith.” He said as you froze for a moment.

It was true. The latest murder victim was a middle-aged woman named Bella Smith who worked at a convenience store. She had multiple stab wounds but it was pretty much impossible to see she had three wounds on her throat just looking at photos of the crime scene.

“Okay and how did you get my number? I imagine the infamous Ghostface doesn’t have access to these types of things. How do I know this isn’t some sort of elaborate prank orchestrated by my coworkers?” You questioned.

“Honey, I am Roseville. Also sounds like you have experience with these kinds of things. You ever get humiliated like that?” Danny asked, grinning widely.

“No, it’s just a very logical conclusion. And why would you be talking to me anyways?” You asked him.

While you spoke to him, you quickly wrote down what he said and what he sounded like. You quickly speculated what his age may be, maybe 25?

“I keep tabs on the cops who are investigating my work and to be honest? They’re all stupid, it’s pathetic. Although, I noticed something about you. You come from one of the big cities, don’t you? You’re actually smart compared to those other pigs.” He said.

“Those pigs you speak of have tried their best in pursuing you. They have families too.” You responded.

“Really, huh? You’ve only been here three weeks? I think you should just trust me on this one because those other officers really don’t know what they’re doing. If you actually find out who I am, are they gonna give you credit? The newbie? A woman?” He asked.

“I don’t understand why gender is an issue. And why would they try to steal credit?” You questioned.

“They’re stuck in this shit hole city and I bet they could just really use a promotion right now. They want so badly to be the hero that arrests me… but first, they’ll let the freshly graduated detective do the work. It’s so easy to overshadow women in this world.” Danny said.

“Well, I don’t care. As long as you’re put behind bars.” Y/N responded.

“The bars at this station? I must say, your desk is quite cute. A bit plain but I like your style… interesting files too.” He mused.

“Huh?” You responded, furrowing your eyebrows.

“Your lil’ office at the station, I like it. This place has always been easy to break into. You noticed it too, didn’t you? Their security sucks and their morgue is just too damn small.” Danny said as you frantically looked around, shoving your shoes on.

“I’m going to call them right now and tell them you’re there. That was a stupid move on your part.” You said, practically yelling.

“So young and naive. I’ll be long gone.” He responded, chuckling as you hung up.

“Fuck, shit!” You said, quickly dialling the number to the police station.

You practically flung your door open, sprinting down the hallway and out through the front doors of the apartment complex after three flights of stairs. Your heart rate increased as you continued running down the sidewalk, feeling more frantic when there was no answer.

“Answer…!” You yelled, calling the emergency number.

“911, how can I help you?” A staticky voice answered as you continued running.

“I’m Detective Y/N L/N! Please inform the police station that there’s an intruder! He might be armed and dangerous! Do not touch anything since there may be forensic evidence!” You instructed.

“Oh—yes, right away, ma’am!” The dispatcher answered as you hung up, continuing to focus on your running towards the station.

Back at your apartment complex, there stood Danny with his own mobile phone. It couldn’t be traced back to him since it was stolen and he didn’t leave any DNA on it. If anything, it had the previous owners. Bella Smith. Your apartment complex had fire escape stairs outside your window. Easy enough, he thought. His outfit was black and had some stuff hanging off it. Strings? Ribbons? Danny was quite quick and extremely quiet when it came to climbing the set of stairs.

He reached your window, pulling it open gently and hoisting himself through, landing gently whilst kneeled down. For precaution, he had his knife gripped in one hand. This was purely for investigation and to see what you truly had on him. His head tilted curiously as he noticed your desk. Your art and notebook. His gloved hand reached out to your sketch of him.

Danny was truly impressed at how detailed and good it was. He read through your sticky notes and theories. Other than the fact he was blown away, he knew you were a threat since you successfully guessed his age range and height. Wait, his height? You did a careful examination of the footage he was in, looking at objects around him and his boots to correctly guess a height.

“What the fuck…?” Danny muttered as he looked at your notes.

The Scream by Edward Munch and a costume company? He skimmed over your notes and the psychological profile you built on him. He felt somewhat panicked since you were indeed no joke. His gaze averted towards your leather notebook. Eagerly, he grabbed it and opened it. Most of it was your thoughts and causes of your stress and anxiety. He stopped flipping through when he saw a darker page. It was dark because of the writing and how crumpled it seemed.

December 23rd, 1992

I was walking down an alleyway two weeks ago. It was cold so I had a jacket over my uniform. I suppose that’s why the man didn’t know I was an officer.

At first, I thought that he was going to try and rob me. It took me a while to realize that my money and belongings wasn’t what he was after. I suppose it would be appropriate to say that I was in shock for a moment. He never finished what he started. Despite being in shock, I was able to feel everything and the adrenaline only helped my rage.

Why? Why did this have to happen to me? After getting him off, I pulled my gun out and he stopped. I still remember the look on his face after I shot him. He was scared and pathetic, as he was in life. I don’t regret killing him. I never will. I just feel utterly violated. Never once have I been touched like that so violently. Is this what this fucked up world has come to? What if I didn’t have my gun and training?

He definitely did this to other women… he deserved to die. And I would do it all over again to him and to other men just like him. Of course, I had to call the police. They were going to charge me with manslaughter but they said that they would push this all under the rug, just as long as I never tell anybody. Did I contribute to corruption in the police force? This getting out would ruin everything. I don’t know but I do know that this was my gift.

Freedom was my gift for killing that man. It felt oddly exhilarating. I hope nobody remembers him, I hope his family know what kind of monster he was. Anyways, I’m being reassigned somewhere. They said they’ll give me my first investigation. In a smaller city.

Danny’s fingers trailed over the page. He felt angry and sad for you. That this happened to you. But, something arose in him when he kept re-reading that paragraph. You… enjoyed it? Behind the mask, he had a soft expression on his face. He imagined your beautiful face full of blood with you and your gun. He smiled gently as he kept the notebook.

He did indeed feel bad for you but he wasn’t satisfied with his limited knowledge of you. Danny decided to use this notebook of incriminating evidence to hold some leverage over you. Not only that but he figured he’d get to know you better if they had something interesting to talk to you about. Danny couldn’t help but grin when he thought about your journal entry and the sketches you made of him. So smart yet so naive.

Danny quickly took a look around your apartment to see all points of entry. He took a peak into your bedroom, it was neat and tidy. He seemed somewhat paranoid so quickly went back to your living room window, making his swift little escape. Not without taking some of your notes on him and your sketchbook.

About two hours later, you rubbed your eyes in frustration as another officer came to talk to you. There was a forensic team still investigating your little office space. Apparently, there was nobody here and your office seemed untouched. For about thirty minutes, you inspected any points of entry and tried to look for out of place shoe marks since it rained outside.

“Detective, are you certain it was the killer who called? We get prank calls a lot.” He said as you nodded.

“Yes, I’m certain. It was him, he knows I’m going to catch him soon.” You said as he nodded a bit.

“Okay, well, we’ll take it from here. Come early tommorow.” He said as you sighed.

“I will but please, don’t miss anything. I’m starting to think he was lying. It was him though.” You said as you turned, walking down the hallway towards the exit.

It seemed to be evening at this point and the rain stopped pouring. It was slightly humid but the city looked oddly beautiful when it was wet? You couldn’t stop thinking about your phone call with Ghostface earlier. Y/N already had some tech professionals try to track the number he called from and all of the information regarding the phone company. You’d have to wait two days at the latest for the results to come back.

As you walked through light puddles, you felt more and more tired. All the running and frantically searching for him was enough to just make you exhausted. It was all last-minute too. Y/N stopped dead in her tracks when she felt her mobile phone ring. You pulled it out of your pocket and answered it.

“Hello?” You asked, tired.

“Hey, gorgeous. Just wanted to apologize for my little deception trick earlier.” He responded as your eyes widened.

“Ghostface…” You responded, shocked that he had the courage to call you again.

“God, hearing that from you…” He said with a slight husk as you took a deep breath quietly to calm yourself.

“You know I’m close, don’t you?” You questioned him as he chuckled.

“Of course, I do… only these hands of mine can do wonders for you.” Danny said to you as you scoffed.

“You’re disgusting.” You say to him.

“Don’t lose your temper now, detective. There’s… things we should discuss.” He cooed.

“Things? Seriously?” You asked him, already tired of his bullshit.

“Yeah! Like, this lil’ notebook of yours! Really deep stuff… Victor Houston, was it? The serial rapist? Must’ve felt real good to put him down, didn’t it? Did it feel as good as you said it did in this thing?” He asked as you froze.

You probably let out a small whimper of shock as your hands trembled. Your heart pumped hard and fast. It was all you can hear as you felt your face heat out of pure embarrassment and shock. He… read your journal? This wasn’t good, this wasn’t good.

“W-What…?” You asked as he cackled.

“God, you’re so hot when you sound scared. Don’t be offended though, babe. You still sound real sexy in your cop tone.” He said as he continued.

“Yeah, I read all about the guy you killed. And how it was all covered up to accommodate you. Are you a star student or something? It’s hard covering up murders… or has it always been easy for you?” He asked.

“I-I, um… how did you get that…?” You asked him, trembling.

“You see, Y/N… we’re the same. You and I are too smart for Roseville. It’s just that I got the upper hand this time. While you rushed to the police station, I took a quick trip into your apartment.” He said as you let out a light gasp.

“Yeah, that’s right! I know where you live, I know where you’re from, and your number. I know who you truly are, Detective Y/N L/N.” Danny said mockingly.

“And what are you going to do with it?” You asked him.

“Always so straight to the point. I might give that annoying little journalist Jed Olsen. You’re trying to work with him, aren’t you? You mentioned in one of these notes… you also think he’s handsome.” He said as you covered your eyes.

You fought tears.

“Why? Why would you do this?” You ask.

“I should be asking you that. I’m a bit jealous you find someone like Olsen… attractive. He’s so boring, so normal, so… ugh, I hate talking about him. Still though, nice to know I have another fan besides him.” He said to you.

“Where are you going with this?!” You snapped as he chuckled darkly.

“I won’t tell anybody. Just as long as you halt your investigation for a while. I still want to have fun in Roseville here and well… get to know you.” He said.

“Go to hell.” You muttered.

“How original… so what’ll it be? I kinda need to know now since I’m also on a bit of a time crunch.” Danny asked you.

“W-What the fuck do you want me to do? Sit back and watch as you kill more innocent people?! I won’t let you.” You said with a venomous tone.

“What are you gonna do? Stop me behind bars?” He asked mockingly.

“Fuck you.” You said.

“I’m sure we will. But first, I just want you to sit back and not do anything stupid. We’ll see each other eventually. I’ll call you from another phone soon.” He said, hanging up.

You held your phone in disbelief and quickly made sure you had your gun. How the hell could you have been so dumb?! It was genius, leading you away from you apartment and finding such leverage against you purely out of luck. Your breath trembled as you walked back to your apartment, having your gun ready in your pocket as you did so.

#dbd x reader #ghostface x reader #the ghostface #ghostface dbd #danny johnson x reader #jed olsen x reader #jed olsen #danny johnson #dead by daylight x reader #dead by daylight

[speuradair]

Makoto, Byakuya, Izuru Getting Stuck In A Locker With Their S/O

Request: “Can I request Makoto, Byakuya, and Izuru getting stuck in a locker with their s/o?”

Makoto is definitely the most flustered of the three 

He’s painfully aware of how close you two are and how much you two are touching right now

He immediately begins to apologize, even though it isn’t his fault 

Kinda feels like he’s being creepy or too forward, even though he doesn’t have anywhere else to stand that isn’t practically on top of you

Please assure him that you aren’t mad at him, because until you do, he’s going to be stammering out apologizes

That being said though, if you seem stressed or scared by being trapped in such a small space, he’ll cut off his own rambling to comfort you

“H- hey, it’s okay! I’m right here, babe, don’t cry..”

He’ll wrap his arms around you as tightly as he can, trying his best to comfort you

Makoto isn’t claustrophobic himself, but he understands why you might be freaked out

He hates seeing anyone upset, especially his lover, so he’s gonna use his Ultimate Hope to keep you as calm as possible while you both wait for help

(Definitely calls Kirigiri to come let you out)

Tries to distract you by telling you joke and funny stories about what happened in class earlier that day

His jokes aren’t very funny, but he’s trying okay

And since you love him, you appreciate it

Will definitely keep his arms around you reassuringly, rubbing your back in an attempt to soothe you 

Probably doesn’t even realize he’s doing it

He just instinctively wants to comfort his lover

Over all very sweet and considerate boy, making sure to still respect your boundaries and be there for you even in a situation like that

10/10, would get stuck in a locker with Makoto again

Also very flustered, but won’t show it

Contrary to popular belief, Byakuya isn’t against physical contact in general, but it has to be on his terms

His terms include it not being in public, and it not being in a locker

Whoever is responsible for this is absolutely going to be getting an earful from him whenever you two get out of here

We all know he has quite a temper, so he probably kicks the door a few times in frustration

Byakuya is also very tall

This man is 6′1

Lockers, however, are only about 6 feet tall

He literally has to lean down a bit

Which only adds to his frustration 

Though, similarly to Makoto, his own discomfort is overshadowed by his concern for you if you seem upset

You two are already squished against each other, but he’ll sigh and wrap his arms around your waist and coax you to lean against his chest

“It’s alright, love- we’ll get out of here. Until we do, I’m here.”

Byakuya is pretty stubborn and won’t want to admit he needs help, but he ends up calling Makoto to come let you out

While you’re still stuck in the locker, he’s focused on trying to keep you as comfortable as possible 

Byakuya has an intimidating presence when he’s not close with someone, but to you, the one he loves and cares for, he just has this calming effect on you

He’s very in control and powerful, he always makes you feel safe

How could you not be comforted by Byakuya protecting and taking care of you?

Just him holding you against him, as if sheltering you away, is enough to keep you from getting too upset 

As soon as Makoto comes and opens the door, Byakuya goes to find whoever closed you two in there, and he’s ready to yell at them

Overall very grounding in intense or stressful situations

10/10, would hide in Byakuya’s chest while stuck in a locker

Izuru is completely unbothered 

Just kind of sighs

“Hm, well this is unfortunate.”

It doesn’t make much of a difference to him, honestly

He was going to be bored in his dorm room, he can just be bored in this locker instead

What does bother him, though, is how upset and uncomfortable you seem 

He doesn’t really say anything about it, he just automatically reaches out to pull you closer and smooth your hair out

“There’s nothing to be scared of, (Name). I will get us out.”

He doesn’t actually need to call for help, he can figure out how to open the locker door from the inside

He is, technically, the SHSL Repairman, after all

In the meantime as he works on getting the door open, he’ll let you wrap your arms around him, and he’ll tell you about any talents or hobbies you find interesting

Izuru knows so much about so many things, he has enough information to keep you occupied for hours

Luckily you aren’t stuck for that long, of course

He puts one of his many talents to good use, and is able to mess with the hinges and lock enough to get the door to pop open

When it finally does open and you let out an audible cry of relief, a slight smile actually creeps across his usual stoic features

Izuru may not show it very much on the outside, but he’s very glad that he can be useful and comforting for you

Overall, very handy to be stuck in a locker with

10/10, would trust Izuru to get that door open

#makoto naegi #byakuya togami #izuru kamukura #danganronpa #x reader #danganronpa imagine #self insert #one shot #headcanons #fanfic #rae writes #requests

[blossom-hwa]

fashion major!kevin

ANYWAY THERE WAS LIKE ONE PERSON WHO CALLED FOR A FASHION MAJOR KEVIN SPINOFF OF THE COLLEGE MODEL JUYEON AU I JUST POSTED (linked below) anyway! hope you enjoy, please reblog if you did, and check out my other dumb overly long blurbs in the stream of idiocy tag on my blog <3

pairing: kevin x gender neutral!reader

wc: 2.5k

genre: fluff, university!au

triggers: cursing

college model!juyeon

TBZ Scenarios Masterlist | TBZ Drabbles Masterlist

kevin moon is known on campus for two things: 1. his bright personality literally everyone loves him and if you don’t you’re jealous of him like sorry not sorry i don’t make the rules you know i’m right and 2. his.... unorthodox fashion sense. like eric thought his snake patterned shit was weird as hell?? but there are weirder things in kevin’s closet i swear to you. anyway this unorthodox style is what got him accepted into the fashion program at the university and even though there are a few assholes who stick their noses up at kevin’s work the vast majority of people are cool w his outfits even if they personally wouldn’t wear them and kevin is v well-liked in his major and on campus in general bc he knows everyone and is nice and polite and really a v cool person to be around when he’s not being a fucking idiot

and on campus there are fashion shows a few times every semester to show off the fashion majors’ work, and let’s just say that this university if p well know for its fashion major so some famous people sometimes come along to these events so EVERY TIME a fashion show rolls around the fashion majors get nervous as FUCK and there’s a lot of speculation on who will get noticed and whatever and everyone is secretive about what they’re working on and just. everyone goes fucking haywire and kevin is always v happy when the stress winds down after a show

(no one knows it but kevin has gotten offers from several companies to work with them after he graduates. he hasn’t told anyone except a few friends like juyeon/jacob and his family)

anyway you are also a fashion major who secretly really admires kevin’s stuff?? like you just think he’s so daring and creative and all of his work is absolutely amazing even if it’s a little weird and honestly you don’t even feel overshadowed by his talent and hard work you just feel in awe that you can be in his presence at all. you’re p sure kevin has no idea who you are bc even though you have a lot of the same classes you’re always too shy to sit or work near him bc even though he seems so nice and approachable he’s also just.... god he’s so good

BUT THEN. one of your professors announces that for the next fashion show they’ll be modeling projects that he’s assigning right now. which is weird asf bc usually you’ll all take your best clothing and like fix it or tweak it for the next show, like sometimes people will make something completely from scratch but that’s nerve-wracking and not many people do it unless they’re in a real pinch but it gets even WEIRDER bc this is not a regularly scheduled fashion event?? it’s like a smaller event apparently that they’ve organized just for this project AND THE WEIRDNESS TAKES THE CAKE when your professor says that YOU ARE GOING TO BE THE MODELS. YOU ALL ARE GOING TO PICK SOMEONE IN THE CLASS TO MAKE CLOTHES FOR AND THEY WILL MODEL YOUR OUTFIT

and this SENDS EVERYONE FREAKING THE FUCK OUT??? bc oh god you can’t rely on the models you’ve been using all semester now??? and you have to make flattering clothes for someone you might not even know v well and it’s just. holy fuck holy fuck holy FUCK

meanwhile you already know who you want to create for (/ahem kevin moon/) but you’re also chicken so like??? you’re just sitting in your seat looking over at him but not saying anything until your friend chanhee just pushes you out of your seat in kevin’s direction and is like GO ASK HIM BEFORE YOU LOSE THIS CHANCE and you’re like JESUS FUCKING CHRIST CHANHEE but kevin’s noticed your movement and he’s looking over with a smile on his face and you’re like jfc i can’t do this but chanhee shoves you again and so you kinda smile (you really hope it looks like a smile) and your voice is LITERALLY shaking when you go over and ask if it would be ok to use him as a model for this assignment and he’s like.... oh my god yes

because what YOU don’t know is that kevin has been ogling your designs all year?? like he enjoys his own style and is comfortable in it but he loves your work as in LOVES IT. he thinks your designs are absolutely flawless and original and you combine styles so effortlessly that he just wants to look into your brain when you come up with ideas bc what the fuck?? you may have different styles but kevin knows how to admire art AND YOUR DESIGNS ARE ART. 

so you’re reeling a day later bc now you have kevin moon’s number and he has yours and he’s now texting you on when you think you’ll have the first preliminary designs ready and when you can meet up so you can get each other’s measurements and all that and when you eventually meet up your hands are shaking so much that you can barely take his measurements and kevin is screeching in his mind as well bc oh my god you’re going to model his clothes YOU’RE GOING TO MODEL HIS CLOTHES

most people are again being secretive about their designs and even though someone in their class is modeling for them this time so there’s a bit less secrecy they’re still working alone so you get a shock when kevin asks if you want to coordinate your outfits. like work on designs together and maybe make something that matches a little though ofc retaining your own styles and you just shriek when you get the text and poor childhood best friend younghoon spills his coffee (you have been friends since basically birth and there are no romantic feelings whatsoever ok it’s strictly platonic like you watched younghoon vomit after eating too much bread when you were like 10 and he watched you get tangled up in a soccer net when you were 13 there are no romantic feelings stemming from any of that)

needless to say you reply yes yes ye sYES and kevin is grinning so wide on the other end that juyeon wonders if he’s gone slightly insane (which he has but we’re not gonna dwell on that) and both of you show up to the work rooms nervous as all hell (i’m not a fashion major i have no fashion sense i still think t-shirts/leggings are the way to go so idk how any of this works do not sue me) but kevin has a natural ability to defuse any tension in the room so within minutes you’re comfortable and laughing with him and wondering why you were so scared to approach him before and THEN YOU’RE REMINDED WHY when he shows you his design for you because... oh god.... it’s unbelievable. like it has a distinctly kevin feel to it but he’s clearly been paying attention to what you wear and what you design because it’s something you would like to wear and something you even think you could look good in. holy shit

and you just blurt out like kevin what the fuck this is so good did you like stalk my designs or some shit?? and you mean it as a joke ofc but kevin just goes beet red and mumbles something about how he really likes your work and how it’s so sharply elegant but also insanely creative and you’re just. open-mouthed like. dude i’m in love with your work too oh my god i’m gonna cry my fashion idol just said he likes my designs i’m gonna screaM

kevin stops you from screaming though even though he also feels like he’s gonna scream and this is the start of a very productive partnership between the two of you like most of the fashion majors are friendly despite the competition but you and kevin are on a whole other level?? and you start hanging out more and more often even when you’ve finished designing and are actually sewing (you ask him if this part can be secret bc you want to add a few things as a surprise - he ofc says yes and winks and tells you he has things he wants to add too which just makes you want to scream out of excitement)

and it’s a week before fashion show day and you and kevin are finished with putting together the designs and you’re excited as all hell and kevin is literally about to burst from his own skin and you insist that he goes first and when he pulls the outfit from the bag you’re just. in absolute awe. the colors match the design you made, it looks like it’ll fit, and even though it screams kevin moon it also has a distinct vibe from your own fashion style and you just yell KEVIN MOON YOU GENIUS as you snatch it from him and go change

(you don’t know obviously but kevin is blushing like a tomato while waiting for you to finish changing)

it fits almost perfectly, kevin marks a few places to fix and is debating whether or not to compliment you bc??? that sounds like he’s complimenting his own work and that’s egocentric as hell but then you say something like does it look fine and he just blurts out more than fine. you look great

AND YOU’RE SO FLUSTERED THAT YOU ALL BUT THROW YOUR OWN BAG AT KEVIN and are like GO CHANGE 

so he takes out the clothes and goes silent and you’re like.... oh my god does he hate it i mean we worked on the designs together and he said he liked it then but what if he changed his mind but then he looks at you and his eyes are sparkling and he’s like y/n this is perfect. literally perfect and he rushes to go get changed and when he comes out your eyes are bugging out of your head bc holy hell you pictured kevin in these clothes obviously since they were made for him but he looks so much better than you ever imagined

and then you blurt out something like holy shit you look beautiful

and kevin blushes again

anyway you both take your measurements and run out and then the day of the fashion show rolls around and both of you are freaking out backstage but the instant you two go on it’s like you both are literal gods bc you feel so confident in each other’s clothing and the crowd can feel it THEY CAN FUCKING FEEL IT and they go nuts when you two walk out!!! and even though it isn’t like a huge major fashion show, it’s just for this one project that your professors cooked up, you and kevin are both beaming like the sun when it’s over despite the fact that it wasn’t an important event bc holy shit you two had fun and everyone’s complimenting your clothing and it’s great it’s just great

finally all the chaos is over and the clothes have been put away and the makeup removed and you and kevin are now standing outside the venue in a kind of stunned silence that all of it’s over. it’s all over. and then you suddenly thrust out the clothes you made that kevin wore and tell him to keep it. it’s a present. and kevin takes it but he also forces you to take the outfit he made for you. and then there’s silence again

but if there’s anything you’ve gained over the past few weeks it’s a bit of courage. courage that let you talk to kevin, courage that let you design clothes for him, courage that let you become friends (and maybe something more) with him. you’ve also learned that kevin is a massive dork and a lovely human being and you’d really love to at least stay in contact so in that the moment you smile and say ‘if i asked you on a date, would you wear that outfit?’

poor kevin looks like he’s about to have a fucking aneurysm and you start to lose confidence but then he’s nodding like there’s no tomorrow like yes ye sYE S OH MY GOD YE S and omg you now have a boyfriend whom you like very very much and kevin has a partner whom he likes very very much

you two may not be a pda couple but you ARE that couple that matches every outfit they wear, you make jewelry and accessories for each other and also make each other clothes every so often. everyone is jealous of your combined fashion sense bc even though the outfits might look outrageous, you two both manage to pull them off and look fabulous at it, but also they can’t even be that jealous bc you two are the sweetest couple and are absolutely lovely 

both of you do wear the outfits you made for that show on your first date which is to like a musical or smth bc theatre kid kevin is something you can pry out of my cold dead hands and everyone’s staring but you two are in your own little world and it’s amazing

kevin admits at one point that he was afraid to ask you out bc he thought younghoon was your boyfriend and you just snort and tell him everything stupid younghoon’s done and by the end younghoon is done with you, kevin is about to vomit he’s laughing so hard, and you are smirking like no tomorrow

for the end of year fashion show you and kevin fix up and accessorize the outfits you two made for the show that brought you two together and there is absolutely no surprise that several different fashion companies scout both of you (and a couple modeling agencies too since you and kevin decided to model your own clothing again - younghoon whines that you’ve replaced him but you shut him up with chocolate bread)

kevin’s a sucker for romance (you CANNOT tell me this isn't true) so your first kiss is on the roof of the fashion building at sunset when kevin does the cheesy thing where he says you look more beautiful the view and you almost slap him but you’re laughing so hard and kevin’s cackling and somehow it turns into a kiss

you are a dork and kevin is even more of a dork and it just works out beautifully bc you’re so absolutely in love that it makes people fake vomit from the sides (looking at chanhee right here) but it’s also really sweet in that you two trust each other completely and would do absolutely anything for the other except murder. kevin made that v clear but really only bc blood would stain his clothing and he doesn’t need that. you agree wholeheartedly (younghoon/juyeon are looking from the sides like what the fuck is this couple do they need help and you two are like just go away and let us be the weird couple we are ok). the conversation ends in a v soft v sweet kiss and just. ik i said it with juyeon but kevin moon is also best bf ever ok you cannot convince me otherwise. 

and that’s how it goes :)

If you enjoyed, please don’t forget to reblog and leave a comment to tell me what you thought! Thank you for reading and have a lovely day <3

(1 reblog = 1 prayer for this weird-ass couple)

#destinyverse #kpopscape #tbznetwork #the boyz #tbz #the boyz kevin #tbz kevin #kevin moon #the boyz scenarios #tbz scenarios #the boyz kevin scenarios #the boyz x reader #tbz x reader #the boyz kevin x reader #tbz kevin x reader #kevin moon x reader #kevin #drabble #fluff #tw cursing #university!au #stream of idiocy #scriptura-delirus

[dex-xe]

BBC Ghosts x Eurovision

No one asked for this (and I’ve already seen a few people discussing this but haven’t seen anyone go into much detail) but here are some headcanons about the ghosts watching Eurovision 2021!! Eurovision has been one of my special interests since I was a little kid so combining it with my current special interest just seems right!!

(Also pls comment your own headcanons or even better send them to my inbox AND also send new headcanon topics for us to chat about cause I’ve missed doing that!!)

- Firstly it’s definitely Mike’s doing,, Alison jokes it’s a bit tacky and kinda cringe and Mike is *deeply* offended insisting the tack is what makes it fun.

- Alison also really enjoys it but also enjoys teasing Mike about his affinity

- Alison shows the ghosts a few YouTube clips of old years

- Kitty, Mary, and Humphrey are all well up for watching straight away,, also Pat but we’ll talk about him in a minute.

- Robin doesn’t really get the point (countries are a stupid idea according to him so having a country based competition where people actually get serious about it is just daft).

- Thomas and Fanny both hate the clips they’re shown and call it the “lowest form of entertainment” they’ve ever seen.

- The Captain is also above it... or so he says but he finds his foot tapping along to Emmilie De Forest and is *horrified* at himself

- Julian is straight away racist,, a comment here about EU bureaucracy, another snipe there about Russia. Alison shuts his complaining down very quickly and tells him he can’t say anything he wouldn’t be happy someone saying about the UK or else his phone privileges will be taken away.

- Pat is the only ghost who has seen Eurovision before (Julian has always refused on principle).

- He used to watch it with his family and put on a proper spread for everyone (cause we all know Pat was the family cook). I’m talking mini sausage rolls, tiny sandwiches, a cheese and pineapple hedgehog (totally not what my family does for Eurovision every year... hmmm) and then also a trifle cause it’s the most English pudding ever and you gotta support the home side.

- (I’m hungry,, can you tell??)

- Once Alison has explained to them how the show works, most of them agree to watch - Thomas once he learns of the beautiful women competing and Fanny the same with the men.

- The Captain however begins taking it very seriously once he starts to realise the tactical elements of it,, while he likes the performances, he spends the entire afternoon rewatching previous years scoring segments making mental notes of what gets support and who votes for who.

- The evening comes round and everyone gathers to watch in the TV room.

- The second the flag parade starts everyone is engrossed - even Fanny can marvel at the spectacle of it.

- (I’m not gonna talk about every performance cause Jeez that’s long but here are what I think everyone’s favourites would be.

- Robin really loves Finland and Italy,, anything loud and rocky he’s straight up off the floor and jumping along (same Robin, same) but he falls completely silent and watches in awe at the Spanish entry because of the giant moon (he then also asks Alison to buy a huge moon for the living room - she’s says she’ll think about it).

- Kitty is fully rooting for Malta - Lizzo girlboss vibes is what Kitty lives for. It’s also helped that Alison expressed quite an interest for that one as well.

- Thomas is expecting to like the pretty girls but absolutely falls for Switzerland straight away. Curly haired, blouse-wearing emotional guy with incredibly dramatic dancing is just 😍😍 for him (same Thomas,, can’t decide if he’s very attractive or if it’s gender envy or what??).

- Julian supports the UK... he thinks the song is shit but cannot bring himself to compliment anyone else.

- Pat is an Iceland kind of guy (ily dadi,, you were robbed #eurovision2020winners) and he fully finds himself trying to dance along, smiling all the way through their performance. He likes the weirder ones,, the ones were everyone is clearly just having a blast.

- Humphrey likes the emotional ones,, Bulgaria is a favourite. Righttttt up until France - he picked up a little French from his wife, enough to figure out what Barbara’s talking about and is just in tears by the end.

- Mary actually finds herself enjoying the more folky, traditionally European ones. This comes back to my Morris/folk dancing Mary so I feel like she’d appreciate like Ukraine and Russia - also for the like strong woman aesthetic.

- Fanny is abhorred by the outfits and music but does join Julian in his reluctant support of the UK, she instead prefers to mutter her abuses of the skimpy outfits to the Captain.

- The Captain is also drawn in by the emotional ones like Humphrey, specifically France again. However, a shaggy and shirtless Damiano David jumping about the place in eyeliner and tight trousers awakens something in him he didn’t know was there. He’s horrified by the group and the loudness and the outfits and everything but is also very much intrigued in a way that disturbs him.

- Mike also likes Italy quite a bit cause he’s an Arctic Monkeys/Killers kinda guy (he is,, don’t @ me cause me tooooo Mike) and Alison tends to agree with him but also, like I said, agrees with Kitty on the girl power ones.

- Once the scoring starts, the ghosts start getting noisier and talking amongst themselves about the acts and who they would vote for (they’re not allowed to vote cause Alison refuses to pay for her dead housemates to get a vote each).

- The Captain edges closer to the TV as the others talk over his beloved scoring system, completed overshadowing the research the Captain has done.

- It ends with the Captain sat cross legged in front of the TV with Humphrey in his lap explaining precisely what was happening to Humphrey.

- When it gets towards the end everyone hushes up and they all watch as Italy win. Most of them celebrate.

- Fanny is greatly disturbed by the winners and laments the state of music these days. The Captain vocally agrees but also can’t draw his eyes from the screen.

- Julian has some very choice words for the public for giving the UK a big fat 0.

- Kitty says she’s just glad that everyone had a good time and enjoyed their performances. She also wishes that she could go to the show (don’t we all).

But yeah that’s my collection of headcanons for Eurovision,, once again proving I am a massive nerd who spends too much time putting together little stories.

Anyway,, if you have any more Eurovision headcanons feel free to comment them or send them to my inbox so I can reply and add to them. Similarly, if you have any other shows/music/events/literally anything that you think I should make ghosts headcanons for or that you have hcs for then send them over to my inbox as well!! Love yall stay safe, drink some water if you’ve managed to read this far :)

#bbc ghosts

[swan-of-sunrise]

Spellbinding (Chapter Five)

Summary: After a flirtatious sparring session with Loki and a troubling encounter with Peter Parker, (Y/N) confronts Tony and struggles to control her magic around the billionaire.

Pairing: Loki X Reader

Word Count: 5.3k

Warnings/Disclaimers: None

A/N: I hope that you enjoy!

Chapter Five June 10th, 2015 Avengers Tower, New York City (Previous Chapter)

The sound of the arrow hitting the edge of the bullseye was overshadowed by the loud applause filling the cavernous weapons training room. Grinning triumphantly, (Y/N) lowered her bow and headed over to the two figures standing near the doorway.

“Nice job, (Y/L/N)! You’re comin’ along pretty good!��� Clint patted her on the back, a playful smirk on his face. “Not as good as me, obviously, but pretty good.”

Natasha gave him a small shove. “Clint, be nice!” He only giggled to himself and she gave (Y/N) a kind smile. “You’re doing really well, (Y/N). Maybe you could replace this idiot as the team’s resident archer someday.” Over the past couple of months, the two women had slowly gotten to know one another; Natasha was almost always away on missions but whenever she was free, they bonded over their training sessions and their statuses as the only female Avengers on the team.

(Y/N) chuckled. “That’s okay, I’ll let Hawkeye here keep his job; besides, I have a feeling I’ll be even more comfortable with a sword than a bow.” She set her bow back on the weapons rack and picked up a familiar blade. The hilt was decorated with intricately designed etchings, and it felt perfectly balanced in her hand; Loki, with Bruce’s help, had created it for her in the lab, explaining that it would be better to learn swordsmanship with a well-matched blade and that it would be easier to create one rather than search for the perfect fit. It really does feel natural, she thought with a smile, easily twirling the sword around in her hand. “Do either of you know when Loki’s coming down for practice?”

“Nope, haven’t seen him since breakfast.” Checking his watch, Clint’s eyes widened almost comically. “Shit, we’re late for that meeting, Tasha, Fury’s gonna kick our asses! We’ll see you later, (Y/L/N)!” He grabbed Natasha’s arm and began dragging her out of the room.

“Good luck with your first sword fighting lesson, (Y/N)!” Natasha called over her shoulder as she and Clint left and sprinted down the hall, desperate not to be reprimanded by Director Fury yet again. “Ow, quit trying to pull my arm out of its socket, asshat!”

Giggling, (Y/N) wandered around the room and occasionally swung her sword, silently enjoying the sounds it made as it cut through the air. She was excited when Loki and Steve told her she’d begin training with a bow and sword; she’d never told anyone before, but guns made her nervous and she was glad she’d never have to use one. And she couldn’t help but feel that learning to use the weapons of her mother’s culture would bring her closer to her somehow, but she was too embarrassed to say it aloud. The others might scoff at her sentimentality, but she knew that Loki would never do that.

At the thought of her best friend, she sighed in frustration and began pacing around the room with more purpose. It was becoming harder and harder to suppress her feelings for him, especially after he helped her through that horrible day two weeks prior, but she was determined not to lose the fight for their friendship. Shifting his focus from romantic literature to mystery novels certainly helped; it was easier to set her feelings aside as he read aloud from novels such as The Hound of Baskerville than when he read aloud from ones like Sense and Sensibility. Maybe I should have him read Mary Shelly next, she thought with an amused smile, that’ll really calm the romantic thoughts.

But just as she reached the opposite side of the room, an unsettling feeling put her senses on high alert. Quickly spinning around, she brought her sword up just in time to meet her attacker’s blade with a reverberating clang.

“Your senses are improving, Lady (Y/N),” Loki grinned, pushing her blade away with his own and stepping back. “I’m impressed.”

Before she could reply, he swung his sword at her abdomen and she was quick to clumsily swipe the attack away and block his next from clipping her shoulder. “I thought we were having a formal lesson today?”

Her best friend shrugged as they started to circle one another. “We were, but I concluded that unlike magic, swordplay doesn’t need to be taught formally. You have generations of Light Elf blood flowing through your veins, which means that you already possess a natural skill with swords; besides, I feel that using weapons takes considerably less concentration and caution that using magic.”

“Oh, I don’t know, if I wasn’t concentrating right now I’d never realize that you’re only trying to distract me.” She suddenly raised her sword and swung, but Loki disappeared as soon as the blade made contact with his; a heartbeat later, the cool edge of a training knife was at her throat and a sword-wielding arm was wrapped tightly around her waist, holding her securely against a strong form. “Clever, Loki…”

“My brother isn’t the only Asgardian-trained warrior in this tower, you know.” His warm breath tickled the side of her neck, and (Y/N) swore she could feel his nose nuzzle into her hair while her heart fluttered in her chest. “Now, try and break free of-”

Before he could finish his sentence, she elbowed him hard in the stomach and used his surprise to duck under his loosened arm, quickly straightening and parring away his fast sword strike. “You mean like that?”

“Precisely,” Loki sheathed the dagger and twirled his sword in his hand, an amused gleam in his green eyes. “Now, let’s see what else you can do.”

For the next half hour, they were at a stalemate; neither of them had been able to disarm or knock the other down, no matter how hard they tried, but (Y/N) knew she was tiring. Her strikes were becoming slower, it was becoming much harder to dodge his attacks, and she had a nasty feeling that Loki would quickly take advantage of her weakness at any minute. In desperation, she parried his sword away and swung hers at his head, but she immediately regretted her action; Loki easily blocked the strike and used his sword to twist hers out of her hand. It landed on the ground with a loud clang, and before she could reach for it, he kicked her leg out from under her and she landed harshly on her back. A moment later, he was hovering above her, one hand pinning both of hers above her head and the other holding his sword to her throat. The sounds of their heavy breathing filled the silence of the room, and (Y/N) couldn’t help but giggle in equal amounts of amusement and embarrassment.

“Well, it looks as though you’ve won fair and square, Loki. I’d shake your hand, but they’re a little preoccupied at the moment.”

Loki’s triumphant grin widened at her joke. “Your apology is accepted, Lady (Y/N), though I personally prefer your hands right where they are.” When she gave him a questioning look, he continued. “Now I can finally enact my revenge upon you for your heinous crime. You know which one, of course.”

(Y/N)’s eyes widened and she began struggling against him. “L-Loki, I told you, it was a complete accident, Steve and Bucky were there, they’ll tell you the exact same thing…!”

“I’m not quite sure that I believe your story; you’re telling me that the other day at dinner, you accidentally tripped over Steve’s foot, you accidentally fell on me and you accidentally began tickling me? You have to admit, it doesn’t sound very convincing.”

She tried in vain not to smile guiltily as he spoke. The truth was that she was curious whether the Asgardian was ticklish or not, so when she noticed Steve’s foot sticking out from under the table she decided to test out her theory. It turned out that the Asgardian did make the same sounds as the Pillsbury Dough-Boy when tickled, just as she suspected. “I honestly don’t know what you’re talking about, Loki!”

“Lady (Y/N), you should know by now not to lie to the God of Mischief.”

In one quick movement, he tossed his sword to the side and attacked her stomach with his free hand. She shrieked with laughter, tears rolling down her cheeks as she squirmed under him. She felt his hold on her wrists loosening, so she hurriedly tugged a hand free and began tickling him back. As expected, he laughed loudly, the cheerful sound mingling with hers and echoing off the walls as they rolled across the floor.

“Miss (Y/L/N), is something-? Oh man…”

They immediately stopped, Loki quickly rolling off her and helping her back on her feet when they noticed a familiar figure standing in the doorway. “Hello Peter, um, Loki and I were just…practicing our sword fighting.” (Y/N) blushed scarlet, embarrassed at having been caught in such a compromising position by the fifteen-year-old.

“Yeah, um…sorry if I interrupted you guys, I’ll…just…come back later, I guess.” Peter Parker’s eyes were flicking nervously between her and his black Converse sneakers, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jeans and a light blush spreading over his ears.

“Actually, I need to…I need to speak to my brother about our, um, mission tomorrow. I’ll see you later, Lady (Y/N).” After she murmured her goodbye, he gave Peter a nod as he brushed past him and left, his usually pale face turning more and more crimson by the minute.

(Y/N) picked up their swords and placed them back on the weapons rack. “So, what can I do for you, Peter?” During her two months in the tower, she’d only spoken to the teenager once and that was when Tony briefly introduced them; the billionaire had infuriatingly introduced her as ‘Galadriel, but if Galadriel was a total book nerd,’ something he was extremely lucky he said when Loki wasn’t around to hear. The teenager was in awe of her magic and heritage, and she was equally impressed with his incredible knowledge of math and science and how he applied his skills to his intriguing powers.

Peter shuffled from foot to foot and briefly made eye contact with her. “Well, I-I was just talkin’ with Doctor Banner and he mentioned you used to be a librarian before joining the Avengers, and…I was wondering if you could help me write my final paper for my English class?”

“Of course, I’d love to!” She led him out of the weapons room and down the hall to the elevator. “What’s the topic of the paper?”

They stepped into the elevator. “That’s actually what I’m having trouble with. We were supposed to read The Great Gatsby, but I never got a chance to, and now we have to come up with our own topic and finish the essay by Friday, and I’ve got absolutely nothin’.” He sighed and slumped against the wall of the elevator as it rose. “I understand if you’re too busy training for a mission or something, I know it’s a lot to ask but it’s worth like twenty-five percent of my final grade…”

“It’s okay, Peter, I said I’d help you; I haven’t been assigned a mission yet, so my schedule’s wide open.” The doors opened and she led him down the hall to the dining room table next to the kitchen. “Besides, I loved helping people with papers when I was a librarian, and it’ll be nice to continue using that college degree I paid a lot of money for.” Peter laughed and sat down next to her. “All right, since you haven’t read the book and you only have two days to write this essay, I’ll start by giving you a short summary…”

(Y/N) had absolutely no idea how long she spoke for; explaining the plot of F. Scott Fitzgerald’s most famous novel reminded her of how much she missed being a librarian. Not that she regretted joining the Avengers, of course, she just missed being able to use her extensive knowledge of literature to help people. She was glad to see Peter listening with rapt attention, and he even pulled a notebook out of his backpack and began taking notes while she continued. By the time she was finished, he was looking more relaxed than ever.

“Thank you so much, Miss (Y/L/N), that really helped!” He flicked through his notes one last time before turning to a blank page. “I think I’ll write about Daisy; she sounds like a pretty interesting character.”

“You’re welcome, Peter, but promise me you’ll try not to procrastinate next semester? It’s just that it’s so much easier to finish assignments well before the due date…”

Peter grinned. “I know, I know, Aunt May always tells me that! And I didn’t mean to procrastinate this much, it’s just that I suck at English and me and Mister Stark have been workin’ on my new suit a lot and, well, I guess I just got distracted.”

She smiled, but the wheels in her head began turning. “It’s okay, everyone has that one subject they struggle with and everyone gets distracted from time to time. I’m going to go get cleaned up and change, and I expect to see an introduction written by the time I get back, okay?”

“Yes, ma’am!” He chuckled and turned his attention back to his notebook.

(Y/N) took a quick shower and changed into a pair of jeans and a green blouse, quickly toweling off her damp hair before hurrying down to the lab. Just as she suspected, Tony was there, snacking and chatting away with Bruce as the doctor peered into a microscope. Taking a deep breath, (Y/N) opened the door and entered.

“Hello Bruce, Tony.”

“Oh, hi (Y/N),” Bruce looked up and smiled, whereas Tony only rolled his eyes and continued eating his blueberries. “What can I do for you?”

“I’m actually here to speak with Tony, if that’s all right,” Both men looked at each other in surprise and she turned her attention to the billionaire as Bruce quietly excused himself. “Tony, I know that we got off on the wrong foot when we met and I’m not going to apologize for turning you down when you asked me out, but I am sorry if I’ve been rude to you ever since.”

Tony sighed, popping another blueberry into his mouth before answering. “Well, I’d be an asshat if I didn’t try and follow that up, so I’m sorry for being rude too. Now that that’s over, can we get back to work?”

(Y/N) gritted her teeth but remained calm. “That’s not all I came down here for; I just spent over an hour helping Peter write a final paper for school that’s due in two days. He told me that the reason he didn’t write it sooner was because he’s been too busy working on his new suit down here with you. Is that true?”

“Yeah, so what’s your point?”

“My point is that since Peter listens to you, you should remind him that his education is very important. If he continues putting Spider-Man before his schoolwork, he’s not going to have a future.”

The older man only sighed. “Of course he will; when he decides he doesn’t wanna be Spider-Man, he can always have a job at Stark Enterprises.”

“And what if he doesn’t want a job with your company? What if he decided down the road that he wants to be a lawyer or a firefighter or a photographer? Without an education, he’d never be able to live the life he wants!” Realizing that she was speaking loudly, she took another deep breath and adjusted her glasses. “Tony, all I’m asking you to do is help him be a normal high schooler for as long as possible. I’m not saying you should take his suit away and forbid him from being Spider-Man next semester, just…let him be able to study for tests or hang out with his friends or go out on dates. Just try to help him find the balance his duties between being a high schooler and being Spider-Man.”

Tony only raised his brow and smirked. “Why’re you being so pushy about this, Hermione Granger? Is it ‘cause you’re trying to live vicariously through him? Let him experience the things that you never did?”

(Y/N) felt her anger beginning to build up inside her. “This has absolutely nothing to do with me, Tony, this is about making sure you don’t ruin his life in the long run. Need I remind you that not everyone is as privileged as you are and can make mistakes in life without there being consequences?”

“And need I remind you that if not for my ‘privileges,’ there’d be no Avengers and you’d be stuck in a Hydra lab somewhere being experimented on?”

“Are you going to talk to him or not?”

Tony shook his head, an unusually serious look on his face. “Parker can do whatever he wants to do. It’s his life.”

She nodded, her jaw clenched tightly. “Fine, then, I’ll go and speak to Steve about it.” Giving the man one last glare, she turned on her heel and headed for the door.

“You know, you’re starting to sound exactly like your boyfriend did when he tried to take over the world. Must be an alien thing…”

Without a moment of thought, (Y/N) turned around and thrust out her hands, her anger finally boiling over. A familiar purple aura surrounded Tony as she used her powers to swiftly lift him into the air and slam him into the wall behind him. Her unfiltered fury kept him in place, and she was sure to keep his mouth magically shut so he was unable to call out to J.A.R.V.I.S. for his suit. “Don’t you dare speak about Loki! He’s doing everything he can to make up for what he did, and maybe if you started caring about other people besides yourself you’d realize that!”

“(Y/N)!” Bruce appeared in front of her after running in from the hall, his hands raised in a submissive gesture. “(Y/N), you need to listen to me!” When she made no move to attack him, he slowly inched forward. “I need you to breathe, can you do that for me, (Y/N)? Take a deep breath and just relax, find control over your powers!”

(Y/N) struggled to control her breathing as she listened to his words, but just when she felt her muscles and powers begin to relax, Tony stretched his fingers and pressed a button on the metal bracelet he wore. One of his security suits burst through its storage container and aimed its repulsor beams at her; without a second thought, she allowed Tony to fall to the ground in a heap and thrust her hands towards the suit, effectively knocking it into the opposite wall with a swirling cloud of purple magic before it could fire. The suit immediately got up and just as Bruce shouted “No!” it shot its repulsor beams directly at her. Acting on instinct, she pushed Bruce out of the way and crossed her forearms in front of her, deflecting the beams and making them ricochet off her magic and back towards the suit, causing it to explode in a ball of fire.

The entire room shook violently with tremors and the ceiling began to tremble; panicking, (Y/N) thrust her hands upwards and concentrated on stabilizing the concrete with her magic. After a tense moment, the ceiling tremors began to calm down and stop altogether, which was when she realized that the emergency sprinklers were on and the lab was filling up with dark smoke as the fire alarms blared. Where’s Tony and Bruce, she thought, coughing as she stumbled through the wrecked lab in search of the two men.

“Bruce! Tony!” She called out, her voice shaking with worry. “Bruce! To-!” A hand on her arm caused her to turn and gasp; standing before her was a soaked and worried but unharmed Bruce Banner. “Bruce, thank goodness you’re all right!”

“C’mon, I already got Tony, we need to get out of here!” Bruce grabbed her hand and quickly led her through the smoke and smoldering remains of Tony’s suit to the exit. When they finally got out of the lab, the doctor slammed the door behind them and leaned heavily against the wall. It was then when (Y/N) noticed that Tony was laying on the ground, his chest heaving as his eyes stayed focused on the ceiling, and that there was a distinct green tinge to Bruce’s jugular that was slowly fading away.

“Thank you, Bruce.”

“…Fury’s gonna be pissed, isn’t he?”

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

Director Fury looked up from the security footage on his computer monitor with a disapproving frown on his face. After rushing up to the lab and having them thoroughly checked for injuries, Director Fury ‘requested’ (Y/N), Bruce and Tony join him in his office several floors below; (Y/N), who had only ever spoken to the director once before when she first joined the Avengers, was scared out of her mind, something she was sure Bruce knew when he gave her hand a comforting squeeze. She felt guilty that she lost control over her powers and scared of what her punishment would be; she didn’t want to be kicked off the Avengers team all because she’d risen to Tony’s childish bait. I wish Loki were here, she thought as she pulled the blanket the firemen had given her tighter around her shoulders for comfort.

“So, you’re telling me that several S.H.I.E.L.D experiments were compromised, thousands of dollars’ worth of our equipment was destroyed, the Hulk was nearly unleashed and an entire floor of your tower is temporarily condemned all because you couldn’t put a sock in it, Stark?”

Tony smirked. “Sounds about right.”

Deciding she needed to speak up for the billionaire, (Y/N) quietly said, “It’s not all his fault, Director. I went to the lab and asked Tony to speak to Peter about how important his schoolwork is when I should’ve spoken directly to Steve instead. And it was me who lost control and destroyed the lab in the first place, not him.”

“Thank you for your honesty, Miss (Y/L/N), but I’m not pissed off about you losing your cool or even about you two destroying the lab; I’m pissed off because your guys’ petty arguing’s keeping you all from functioning as the team I believe you can be.” Director Fury stood and leaned against his desk. “Now, Doctor Banner and I are gonna leave to check in with the clean-up, and if this stupid-ass fighting isn’t resolved by the time we come back…well, let’s just say that you’re not gonna like the consequences.” The director gave them one last glare and gestured for Bruce to follow him into the hall; the doctor flashed them a sympathetic look before leaving, and (Y/N) flinched as the door slammed shut.

The billionaire lounged casually in his chair, twirling a small screwdriver around his fingers over and over as he made fleeting eye contact with her; he looked sincerer than she’d ever seen him before. “I, ah, guess I should apologize…I’ve been treating you kind of unfairly over the past few months and saying some harsh things, and I’m really sorry about that…”

“Then why say them in the first place?”

His fingers stilled as he looked down at them, remaining silent for several moments before answering. “I guess it’s ‘cause I didn’t like the fact that you’re such good friends with Reindeer G – I mean – Loki.”

His answer took her by surprise. “Why not?”

The older man looked out the window and smiled humorlessly. “Well, for starters, the guy tried to take over the world with a hostile alien army and is responsible for the deaths of at least eighty people over two days, not to mention he threw me out a window and I…well, my heart stopped when I came out of that wormhole and I would’ve been a goner of not for the enormous green rage monster out there. Can you really blame me for not wanting to become best buddies with him or anyone who actually likes him?”

“Yes, I can, at least a little bit.” She ignored the confused look on his face and continued. “Loki’s here on Earth to make up for everything he did; he joined the Avengers, the people he was once sworn enemies with, of his own free will to do good. Loki’s my best friend and I believe wholeheartedly that he deserves a chance to redeem himself for what he’s done, just like Natasha and Bucky. Everyone else in this tower has put the past behind them and accepted him as their teammate except you, Tony. I’m sorry about what happened to you during the battle, I really am, but you can’t change what happened in the past so it’s pointless to keep hyper-focusing in it.”

“I think Capsicle’s been rubbing off on you, (Y/L/N); that was some speech,” Tony chuckled, then grew serious. “But you’re right; I haven’t given either of you a fair chance.”

(Y/N) nodded. “And I’m really sorry I lost control and said those things earlier, it was wrong of me to say them. You’re not a selfish person, Tony, and it’s unfair to degrade you because you happen to be more well-off than most, it’s not your-”

“It’s okay; seriously, I was definitely asking to be talked to like that. And don’t worry, I’ll speak to Peter about balancing being a friendly neighborhood Spider-Man and a high schooler; Banner’s been bugging me about it, too.” His usual grin returned. “So, can we agree to start over and maybe be friends from now on? ‘Cause you actually seem like a pretty cool person to be around, (Y/L/N).”

“I think I can agree to that, Tony.” She accepted his outstretched hand and shook it, a cheerful smile finally making its way across her face. Not the way I expected this day to go, she thought to herself, but I’m glad we’ve finally made up.

Just then, the door opened to reveal Director Fury and Bruce. “Great, now we all can get back to work. Except for you, Miss (Y/L/N), I want a private word.” Without wasting a moment, Tony and Bruce left the two of them alone. (Y/N)’s hands began to shake, so she started tugging at the sides of her blanket again to keep them occupied. “I believe congratulations are in order, Miss (Y/L/N).”

“C-congratulations?”

Director Fury made his way over to his chair and sat. “You showed real control over your powers today.”

Frowning, (Y/N) stopped fiddling with the edge of her blanket. “But Director, I almost killed Tony, a-and what about almost unleashing the Hulk and all the damage…?”

“The key word there is ‘almost’. Sure, your emotions clouded your judgement, but you were able to reign in your powers and stop yourself from doing anything too serious.” The director’s eye twinkled slightly. “In my book, that’s something that deserves a congratulation and not guilt, Miss (Y/L/N). Wouldn’t you agree?”

“I suppose so, Director.”

Director Fury nodded. “Good. And as for the damages, Stark has more than enough money to fix them within a day, this time with even stronger fortifications. Now, you’d better go change clothes before you catch a cold; we wouldn’t want one of our newest Avengers getting sick, would we?”

Blushing, (Y/N) stood and smiled shyly at the director. “O-of course not, Director. Thank you.” She quickly left the office as he returned to the paperwork on his desk, hardly believing what had just happened; she’d been absolutely convinced that she’d be kicked off the team for her actions. It was kind of Director Fury to give me another chance, and I don’t intend on throwing it away, she thought with determination, hurrying down the hall to the elevator.

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

“To make a long story short, you lost control over your magic, regained control with the help of Doctor Banner before you could kill Stark, destroyed one of Stark’s suits in self-defense and stopped the ceiling from collapsing on all three of you, correct?” Loki asked, his lips already curving into a proud smile. Only minutes before, (Y/N) had found her best friend in a fit of rage and the only thing keeping him from confronting Tony himself was Mjolnir resting on his lap; the moment she entered his suite, however, he ceased arguing with Thor and immediately asked her if she was all right.

Despite her best efforts not to see too far into his actions, his obvious concern over her well-being caused her heart to flutter and her cheeks to redden, but she was quick to hide her feelings by giving him and Thor the full story of what happened; all they knew of the incident was that her and Tony’s argument led to an explosion in the lab, so Loki had immediately assumed Tony was at fault and went into a rage. Luckily Thor had enough foresight to prevent him from doing anything too serious, she thought to herself.

Nodding, (Y/N) relaxed her aching muscles against the cushions of the couch. “Correct, and Tony and I had a good talk. I think we’re going to get along from now on.”

Loki nodded, directing his attention to his brother and gesturing to the hammer. “Now, can you please remove this infernal thing from my lap? I promise I won’t go after Stark.” Although his face was relaxed, she could see a glint of anger return to his emerald-green eyes so she quickly laced her fingers through his slightly colder ones. He looked at her in surprise and the anger seemed to melt away the longer he stared into her eyes. “I swear on our friendship, Lady (Y/N), that I won’t harm Stark in any way.” He glanced back at Thor with a brow raised in expectation. “Now will you move it?”

“All right, all right, don’t get your cape in a twist, brother,” Thor chuckled, standing from his armchair and easily picking up Mjolnir. “I’ll go and see if Banner and Stark require assistance in cleaning up the laboratory. Again, I’m relieved you’re unharmed, Lady (Y/N).” He gave her what he apparently thought was a gentle pat on the shoulder and left before he could see her nearly topple off the sofa.

Rolling his eyes, Loki helped her right herself. “Such a brute, honestly.” He glanced down at their intertwined fingers as his face once again grew serious. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

“Well, it would be a lie if I said I didn’t feel guilty about losing control…”

To her surprise, Loki’s face broke out into a bemused grin. “You Midgardians are so odd; you pen sayings such as ‘to err is human’, and yet you always blame yourselves for your mistakes. It’s perfectly acceptable to make errors, Lady (Y/N), and you should be extremely proud of the fact that you managed to rectify yours so easily. Trust me, as someone who has fought against and alongside Doctor Banner, regaining control over oneself is no easy feat.”

“You sound exactly like Director Fury, you know, but you’re right.” (Y/N) elbowed him playfully in the side and grinned when he suppressed a giggle.

“Is it really wise of you to begin this again, Lady (Y/N)?”

“Well, it’s not like you’re brave enough to do anything ab-” She was cut off when she was struck on the side of the head by a throw pillow.

Loki burst into laughter, clutching his sides and his pillow tightly as he looked at her. “You should see your face!” He choked out between breaths. “You look like-!”

At that moment, (Y/N) grabbed another pillow and smacked it against his face, giggling at his stunned expression and mussed hair as she adjusted her crooked glasses. “You were saying?”

“Um, Miss (Y/L/N)?” They both hastily lowered their raised pillows and looked at the doorway where Peter Parker stood, once again as red as a tomato, holding his notebook. “I-I, um, need some help on my body paragraphs…”

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

A/N: Thank you all so much for reading and commenting! I’ve created a Spotify playlist inspired by this series, and I’ll be updating it every time I upload a new chapter. Enjoy!

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2wx8TZwpDN0l33tES3W3Nk

Chapter Six

Spellbinding Masterlist

Tagging: @nexiva @ravenclawbitch426 @cminr @confusedfandomwriter @momc95 @nickkie1129 @austynparksandpizza @brooke0297 @destructivebliss @outoftheregular​ @itscomplicatedx​ @0-artemis​ @vivloki​

#loki x reader #loki odinson x reader #loki laufeyson x reader #loki #loki odinson #natasha romanoff #black widow #clint barton #hawkeye #peter parker #spiderman #tony stark #iron man #bruce banner #hulk #nick fury #director fury #thor odinson #marvel cinematic universe

[astrovian]

the official ranking of RA photoshoot outfits (pt. 1)

as @dykethorin​ said when I first proposed doing this particular ranking,  “Some real Decisions™️ were made” with these shoots y’all

all photoshoot outfits (for part one) under the cut

the official ranking of Daniel Miller outfits here

the official ranking of Adam Price outfits here

the official ranking of Claude Becker outfits here

guys, I’m crying with laughter

hey quick question: what the fuck was this photoshoot??? (and also I need current RA in these poses)

it’s real nice to see a fun, loosey-goosey RA (before he established himself in the broody-character archetype) but there are so many questionable fashion choices here

when I started this list I had two options:

1)     allow some leeway to the older photoshoots because, let’s be real, the early 2000s were an atrocious time for fashion that a lot of us would most rather forget we participated in

2)     judge them by today’s standards, which is harsh but some of these outfits deserve it

naturally, I chose option #2

It’s so hard to even pick where to start. the too-loose pants? the ill-fitting suit jacket? The untucked dress shirt that is for some god-forsaken reason undone in two separate directions??

I have chosen one thing that sums the outfit up as a whole: what monster decided to put the shirt collar over the suit jacket????

the jazz hands scream “hey I’m a FUN guy” but the suit screams “I’m the yo-pro asshole at the office who is so unreliable you’re pretty sure some nepotism must surely have had an influence during the hiring process”

I originally said ‘I guess we should be glad there’s no surfer necklace’ but then I had the horrifying realisation that it’s a 50/50 shot as to whether that would improve this outfit or make it worse. and you know when there’s even slimmest chance a surfer necklace could improve an outfit somehow that it’s time to take a good hard look at yourself

1/10 just because this photoshoot made me genuinely laugh out loud

wait I’m sorry, what-

how on god’s green earth is this the same photoshoot (?) as guys, I’m crying with laughter????

the great thing about these lists is that you are getting my genuine reactions as I progress down the images. I had no idea this was the same photoshoot (?) until approximately 10 seconds after writing guys, I’m crying with laughter

this perfectly encapsulates the duality of man – one moment it’s all goofy jazz hands and the next it’s a hunk-of-the-week moment

this man and guys, I’m crying with laughter are the equivalent of looking at pictures of yourself in high school vs. in your 20s/30s/at your prime. the whiplash is insane

and why is he in front of barred windows?? it appears they were afraid of what would happen if this hunk escaped into the general population

I still can’t believe they kept the collar over the suit jacket though

I’m so conflicted guys, the urge to numerically rank this terrible outfit is strong but uh… as per usual shirtless ones aren’t fair/10

revenge of the killer surfer necklace

do you ever look back at a specific moment in time and are so thankful that someone took one tiny action? one small thing they did in the heat of the moment that probably seemed innocuous at the time but had far-reaching consequences? for example, it might something as simple as deciding to take a umbrella on a bright sunny day only for it to be extremely useful on the way home when the weather turns

this is how I feel about the person who decided RA could leave that top button closed for this shoot

if you squint, you can see the surfer necklace under that top button. and thank god you have to squint

this is such an early 2000s look though. that shirt by itself is fine and would actually look killer with a properly fitted suit nowadays. it’s the shirt dress and loose denim look with makes no sense to me

2/10 for a pretty uninspiring early 2000s outfit

revenge of the uh… 

from the same shoot as revenge of the killer surfer necklace this loses .1 of a mark for adding a jacket, while pretty innocuous, to an already busy outfit

1.9/10

were we really that afraid of legs?

why were we, as a society, so obsessed with loose, ill-fitting pants? why were we so desperate to conceal legs from the general population? what secrets were we trying to hide? I understand the comfort factor on the hand, but on the other did anyone actually have eyes

the sneakers/suit combo I can definitely live with. but those pants (that I’m convinced must be pyjama pants in another life) turns it all into a sloppy, blurry mess

2.7/10

is it a bird? is it a plane? no, it’s… a floating RA?

what is it about photoshoots in the early 2000s where they just make no damn sense. it’s my opinion that the theme/concept of a shoot should not overshadow the subject, and that’s the correct opinion (as well as being the exact opposite as to what’s happening here)

maybe there was a hint or reason as to why floating wizard RA exists in the article that this shoot presumably came with, but I don’t get it. clearly I’m far too literal of a person and need to embrace my inner artist

looks pretty, still weird

moving on the entire point of this post, the outfit, I uh,… oh god

I’m pretty sure this the same (and similar, if not) outfit RA wore in the North & South behind-the-scenes, and how we as a society went from John Thornton’s stiff collar and top hat to this is amazing

maybe we were so obsessed with period dramas back then because it was a nice alternative to indulge our eyes in when we had to face the harsh, cold reality of modern fashion at the time

anyway – trust me, while I am all for a man in a necklace, let’s pray surfer necklaces never come back 2.9/10

I genuinely was looking up “pinstriped jacket jokes” because I couldn’t think of anything off the top of my head but then I realised I don’t need a joke here because pinstriped jackets are a joke all by themselves

I feel like there may be a situation where pinstriped suit jackets might grow on me, but this is not that situation

also I don’t really know where I stand on the belt, but I certainly think I’m leaning towards the ‘why’ part of the scale. if you’re gonna make a belt that prominent in a photoshoot, at least make it a fun belt

3/10

I’m noticing a trend in these photoshoots and it’s these horrific backgrounds

I will admit that the non-patterned suit jacket is going with the jeans a lot better here. but now that my attention isn’t focused on that, all I can see are the dress shoes. WHY DID YOU PUT DRESS SHOES WITH STRAIGHT-LEGGED JEANS???

please someone I am begging you, can we as a society get to tapered jeans already

3.3/10

did RA genuinely ever get put into any clothes that actually fitted him properly at this point in time?

look, I know I’ve been picking on the bootcut jeans & loose attire that plagued us in the early 2000s (or 2006, to be specific to this photoshoot). what can I say, it’s the low-hanging fruit. or loose-hanging, as the case may be

I do appreciate that rich brown leather jacket and that smile. but that’s where it stops. someone take dress shirts and dress shoes away from bootcut denim PLEASE

3.5/10

this is the bad-boy from your hometown in every rom-com ever

as with well this in an interesting development that I can’t say I disapprove of below, the lower rating is simply because from what we can see, it’s just a plain shirt. however, that dipped v-neck? mm-mmm

look at that smirk. this man knows what he’s doing to us, dammit.

why do you persist in hurting us this way 4/10 

well this in an interesting development that I can’t say I disapprove of

god bless the person who said we need this shirt wet and clinging and only half-soaked

I’m so sad that I have to give this such a low ranking because uh… we’ve established I have a weakness for those biceps

this does also get bonus points for the creativity of “only this portion of your shirt needs to be wet for your close-up” but at the end of the day it is a solitary grey t-shirt even if it is floating in an attractive sea of muscles

4.5/10

the photographer really said ‘who gives a crap about the clothes’, huh?

an interesting shirt! but as much as I love RA’s face, we should be able to see more of the shirt (and the outfit) because uh… it’s hard to make a judgement call on a photoshoot outfit without that

also, it’s just so hard to concentrate on some of these with RA staring into my soul like that

*sigh* 4.6/10

hello sir, are you as kinky as your shirt?

this is one of the few occasions on which I will give the bootleg baggy jeans a pass. interesting choice to go shoeless for all outfits in this shoot – but the way the shirt is all crumpled is annoying me an incessant amount. I am begging you, someone pass this stylist an ironing board PLEASE

4.7/10 for a crinkle-cut RA

all that’s missing is the beer cans

I’m not sure of the short sleeves here. I think with the shirt open as well my brain doesn’t know where to look

HOWEVER, this is an RA from the early 2000s that I can get behind – largely because he’s not drowning in his denim

the nice, plain belt which matches with the shirt? excellent

interesting choice to go with the bare feet – this entire look (and the quality of that concrete floor) screams ‘we’re chilling at a summer party in your parent’s basement in the early 2000s’ if not for one thing – that couch is way too nice looking. am I being too pedantic about this? no. If you’re gonna go for the whole basement party look, you need a couch that’s falling apart and has at least one questionable stain on it

that being said, I would hang out in this man’s basement

it’s a shirtless one so once again, I cannot give a numerical answer/10

I’m not sure if this man is dangerous or is just an idiot

they may have been wanting RA to embrace his inner Daniel Miller here but that is NOT a jacket that should have its collar popped or if it is, it definitely should not be popped that much. just turn the intensity of that pop down by… at least 35%

this look is telling me to embrace my inner lacy, ruffled collar that men in England used to wear around the 1500 - 1600s. I hate it and refute it with every part of my soul

this is what happens when you embrace your inner Daniel a little bit too much 5.6/10

the return of the leg monster

not much to say about this except once again we are terrified to put RA’s legs into well-fitted pants. what secrets are hiding underneath those voluminous billows? will we ever know?

5.8/10

the one that crushed my hopes and dreams and then spat on my corpse

so I admit it, I got really excited because I thought that this was a leopard print shirt and I was like “this is something I did NOT know that I needed until right now”, even if I would argue that it could have been nice in a little bit of a brighter colour. no matter, I thought it was a nice subtle addition to this plain suit and was just very excited at the prospect of RA rocking leopard print even though I almost always hate leopard print in single every form it comes in

and then. upon zooming. a disappointing paisley. sorry, paisley lovers. I hate it

I would also argue here that the pocket square would have been nice in a plain, bright colour rather than another patterned item thrown into the mix. come on stylists, stop letting me down with your pocket squares

also if there is a point where a suit can be too shiny, I think we’ve found it. I could wax floors with that fabric and I’d rather be thinking about RA’s talent & good looks rather than imagining him being used as a human mop

the hand porn is uh… strong with this one 6/10

the hand porn one

the ring is a nice subtle touch but I can’t decide where I stand on this tie. for me, the checks are just a *wee* tad too small. so small that it I’m scared it will turn into one of those optical illusions with a number in it if I stare at it the tie for too long

the pocket square could also have not tried so hard to blend in with the rest of the suit jacket. give me some colour, baby!

Richard really needs to put his hand down so I can actually concentrate on the clothes 6.5/10

 I’m just dotty for this one (I’m so sorry y’all)

so suave. so shiny. I wanna stroke that fabric so bad, it looks so soft

the dots bring a nice yet understated touch to a monotone outfit and GOOD LORD those thighs

they just had to pose him like this to torture us, I’m convinced. also they call him a “commanding gentleman” in the subtitle which is really just unnecessary to verbalise when he’s sitting like this

Someone put me in a rom-com with this man 7.2/10

the modern magician (at least he ain’t floating this time)

I know that the hat should be the focus of this shoot but I can’t get over those shoes

tangentially related, I have never understood why they make men’s dress shoes so excessively long and pointed. these certainly aren’t a good example of this but uh… I don’t understand why men’s dress shoes are clown shoes

I think part of what’s throwing me off is the sockless look. normally I can handle (and even love) it with some shoes but there’s something about the hem of those jeans and those shoes that turn them into slippers when worn sockless

I love the two-tone scarf but what really excites me is the plaid shirt that we can barely see. I’m eternally sad that they had RA hid it in this pose. and also, come one. you could’ve at least gotten a chair with an actual back to it. that can’t be good for his back at all

the one bonus of this outfit is the hat because when do we ever get RA in hats?? and hats that aren’t baseball caps?? a nice, rare touch. but also one which hides most of that face so…

can we talk about the fact that my gut tells me those jean cuffs have been deliberately turned up at the front and all I want in life is to reach into this image and flip them down 7.5/10

*pterodactyl noises*

holy macaroni. that demin shirt. and this shirt’s even a nice lighter denim colour??? and the v-neck?? SIR

I know he’s worn some faux-denim shirts in the last few years (see: Uncle Vanya rehearsal pics) but as outerwear? knocked it out of the park in this one

also I know this is a shirt not a jacket, but this shirt made me think about how I never realised how much I needed RA in jean jackets until today

It could be argued that a nice crew neck cut would work slightly better than the v-neck but that’s really a personal choice

a lovely respite for my weary eyes 7.7/10

a truly, truly blessed image. the sort of image that would bring you endless good luck

I know I’ve given a lot of pants crap on this list but these. these are the ones. these are doing the lord’s work for sure. and god bless the person who decided to shoot from this particular side angle.

and then the shirt?? I’m honestly afraid it may rip if he moves. I could leave or take the tie though. it’s not adding a whole lot to this outfit and I would much rather that shirt be uh… open at the top for a glimpse of uh… well. you know.

this RA outfit laughs in the face of all those early 2000s RA outfits 8.1/10

me running to open my phone every time an RA-related notification pops up

my only sadness is that this shoot was in black & white. we need more action-shot RA shoots!

also the subtle plaid?? *chef’s kiss*

well, I said ‘my only sadness’ but is it also me or are both ends of that tie strangely square? that is throwing me off from an otherwise spectacular photoshoot outfit, I won’t lie

8.5/10 for a man of action

this is what we all like to think we look on the way to work. hate to break it to ya - we don’t

god, that wind-ruffled hair. the rustic look provided by both the suit material & the photo editing. that stare over the top of that coffee mug. the casual ‘I just picked up the paper on my way out this morning’

words fail me

would it be weird if I said I would pay money to be able to run my hands through anyone’s hair that looks as soft and wind-swept as that 8.9/10

the comfiest RA

I love. love. love this outfit, especially the sweater. the pant colour goes extremely well with this one and I’m so glad they didn’t just stick him in jeans. the is the softest, comfiest RA and I love it. this is an RA who you can simultaneously share a beer and takeaway with at home, cuddling up on the sofa while you watch a film, as well as an RA who will take you out to eat fancy pasta at an upscale restaurant.

the choice of sitting on a stool is also great. my only real gripe here is the watch (and even that’s a minor one, really). the watch isn’t THAT bad, but it’s chunky face reminds me slightly of the watches boys in my class would wear in middle school. the watch could be a *wee wee tad* slicker, but really, I’m nitpicking here (and this is the only time I will admit to it)

the more I look at it, the more this becomes one of my fav RA pics. the slight smile. the relaxed pose. the hint of hand porn

weirdly, for some reason this picture gives me the exact same comfy and ‘just chilling out’ feeling as when I hear the song “Kiss Me” by Sixpence None the Richer 9.5/10

#richard armitage #yes this is a multi-part one because uh... there's a lot of photoshoots guys #also yes most of the early 2000s ones ended up at the bottom and I refuse to apologise for that

[dc41896]

One Wish

I think this is the first time ever or in a while that I’m posting something on the day that I meant for it to come out lol😂. Hope you guys like it and that everyone has a Merry Christmas and a Happy Holidays💕!

Pairing: Chris EvansxBlack Reader

⚠️: Mentions of pregnancy, brief concerns about problems conceiving, fluff other than that though💕!

“Mommy!”

“Hey- what’s wrong?” Picking up your sniffling little one running towards you, he rests his head in the crook of your neck as a fresh set of tears begin to roll down his cheeks.

“River and Kyle were talking about Santa and the North Pole when their classmate interrupted saying how Santa wasn’t real,” Chris explains leaning against the counter still holding onto his son’s Spongebob backpack. “And apparently he called them babies if they still believed in him.”

“He is real...right?,” his tiny voice quivers breaking your heart.

“Do you believe he is?”

“Yes,” he nods lifting his head.

“Then he’s real,” you smile kissing his forehead.

“I knew it! I said so, but he won’t listen.”

“Well don’t worry about him. He’s just jealous because he’s probably on the naughty list,” you state causing a little gasp to leave his lips.

“That’s not good.”

“I know. But hey, why don’t you go wash your hands and then you can help me with cookies? Think that’ll make you feel better?”

“Mhmm! And watch Nightmare Christmas with Jack!”

“Yea bubs we can watch Nightmare before Christmas too,” Chris chuckles watching River excitedly climb down to get his bag and hurry to his room.

“Let me guess, Devin?,” you ask moving throughout the kitchen getting everything you’d need.

“Yep.”

“I know I shouldn’t say this, but that kid really gets on my nerves.”

“Babe,” he laughs with head slightly bowing forward.

“He thinks he knows everything and then his parents just think it’s sooo precious, ugh.” Stopping you from walking past again, you feel both of his strong arms hugging you to his chest rubbing up and down your back.

“Aww did Devin make you upset too?”

“Yes he did and I don’t wike it,” you answer poking out your bottom lip as you look up at your giggling husband. Leaning down, his lips sweetly peck yours twice before staying attached for a few seconds longer making you smile as his nose brushes against yours.

“Feel better?”

“Mhm,” you nod making him laugh once again.

“I’m ready!,” River beams running into the kitchen with Dodger on his heels. Stepping his bare feet atop Chris’, still in his sneakers, holding his arms up he lifts the excited child to sit on the counter beside him with legs dangling over the edge.

“Alright what kind of cookies do you want?,” you ask turning to the desert section of your cookbook.

“Chocolate chip! With extra chocolate.”

“Really? You sure you don’t want worm cookies? With extra slime?,” Chris jokes making River shake his head in disgust.

“Eww! No daddy, chocolate chip.”

“You hear that babe? He wants coated frog lip cookies. I’ve never heard of that but if you insist..”

“Noo chocolate chip!,” he giggles as his cheeks become covered in kisses from his father. Mixing all the dry ingredients in the large glass bowl, River carefully cracks the eggs, with the help of Chris, and adds the rest of the wet ingredients before moving to scoop in the chocolate chips. Multiple times throughout the process you have to stop them from trying to eat the entire bag only making them get more creative on how to sneak more when you weren’t looking.

Or thought you weren’t at least.

Once everything was cleaned following the cookies and dinner, and River got to watch his favorite movie while happily tapping his feet to every song, Chris took the yawning child to get ready for bed leaving you to do the same for yourself. As if on cue, by the time you were sliding into bed trying to get comfortable having showered and finished your full nightly routine, there was your husband softly closing the door behind him with a piece of paper in his hand laughing to himself as he approached the bed.

“What?,” you ask, amused as he lies across the foot of the bed propping his head up with his hand and bent elbow.

“River gave me his list for Santa that he made in class.”

“I’m sure it’s filled with toys,” you and Chris both chuckle.

“See for yourself.”

You sit up taking the red and green bordered paper from his outstretched hand preparing yourself for quite possibly the most outlandish requests from the current look on his face.

“Dear Santa, I’ve been really good this year,” you begin smiling at your son’s slightly shaky handwriting and occasional misspelled words. Continuing down the paper, Chris’ eyes stay fixed on you waiting for your reaction when you get to that special part.

From your extended pause and furrowed brows as you bring the letter a bit closer to your eyes, a chuckle leaves his lips as he crawls up the bed lying cheek down on the pillow beside you and his large hand slides under your, well his, oversized graphic tee gripping your hip.

“But what I really really want is a baby brother or sister this Christmas so we can play at home with mommy and daddy and all of us have fun,” you read aloud looking down at your husband.

“Yeaaa...”

“What are we gonna do?”

“Well,” he smirks gently draping your leg over his jeaned hip as his thumb grazes back and forth over your recently moisturized skin. “What kind of monsters would we be to not grant our child’s Christmas wish?”

“Chris you know it doesn’t happen that fast.”

“We could get the ball moving at least?” Leaning up to kiss your neck, you feel his teeth and lips taking turns nipping at your ticklish skin making you giggle as you try to nudge him off.

“Christopher..”

“Okay, okay. I honestly don’t know. We either tell him ahead of time, hurting his feelings when he’s already sensitive about Santa from earlier, or we wait that morning and he still gets his feelings hurt. Either way I feel like it’s a lose lose.”

“Pretty much.” There’s a comfortable silence as you both try to ponder the best option. His fingertips drifting up and down the back of your thigh still across him while you rake through his hair.

“Maybe he’ll get distracted with all his other gifts and forget about it?”

“You really think our son is gonna forget?,” he chuckles shifting to look at you with a raised brow. Moving to give you more room, you lie down with a sigh slightly concerning Chris with the conflicted look on your face.

It had always been the tale-tell sign that you were overthinking and your anxiety might soon take over. “Hey, you know this isn’t some way to force you to have another baby right?”

With a simple nod, your head moves to his chest and hand drops from his hair to the medallion crooked on his chest.

It’s not that you didn’t want to have another one, you were anxiously waiting for the day you’d hold that stick that read positive in your hand again, or the doctor to tell you congratulations as you sat on the obnoxiously loud paper covering the leather seat in the exam room. After your false positive last month though, doubt and worry began to overshadow that excitement.

“Talk to me,” he softly states bringing you out of your thoughts, his other arm wrapping around your body to rub your shoulder.

“It’s just...I can’t get what happened last month out of my head. What if it happens again and we find out I can’t get pregnant anymore? Or what if we do and get excited...and-,” Before you could stop them, tears trailed down your cheeks onto his shirt as he held you closer trying to soothe you.

“Shh, hey it’s okay.”

“What if it’s not? Whenever we’ve talked about kids you’ve always said how you wanted a big family with a house full of kids running around.”

“It’s not all about what I want though Y/N. This marriage isn’t just me.”

“I know but I still want you to be happy,” you mumble, sniffling as he sits up looking at you as if you were crazy.

“You think I’m not happy? Babe you and River both have made me happier than I’ve ever been and will always make me happy.”

“I didn’t mean that you weren’t happy now...,”

“What, you think if you couldn’t have anymore kids I wouldn’t be happy?”

Avoiding his eyes as you fiddle with the hem of your shirt, you hear him sigh as he leans closer holding your chin in his warm hand for you to look into his blue pools full of sympathy. “Sweetheart I didn’t marry you for your ability to have kids, and if you can or can’t doesn’t dictate your worth. I was just as happy when it was just us as I am now that we’re three, which won’t change if we become four, five, or so on.”

“I hope that so on doesn’t go on forever. I thought our absolute limit was four?,” you softly speak making him laugh.

“As I was saying,” he continues, the back of his finger wiping away your tears. “Would I mind having another? No, but only if and when you’re ready. And if you tell me now, tomorrow, or next year you’re done then that’s it, and I will still be the happiest man with my stunning, intelligent, hilarious even though she doesn’t think so wife, and perfect son who never fails to make me smile.”

Your hand finds the nape of his neck as you close the remaining space between you and your lips collide in a slow, yet passionate exchange as if both of you were trying to embed the feel and taste of each other’s lips on your own.

“Thank you,” you whisper, smiling against his now red lips.

“I love you Y/N. Remember that nothing will ever change that.”

“I love you too.”

———

The house is peacefully quiet as your eyes open to see the ground and trees outside covered in a light blanket of snow that still steadily fell from the grey sky above. Careful not to wake your husband who, from the sound of his snores, sounded like he was in a blissful sleep, you turn your body to face his planting your face in the crook of his neck arched perfectly for you to fit. A long, quiet breath leaving your nostrils as your lips curl into a smile, your arm falls across his tattoo littered abdomen and hand dangles along his side.

Your fingertios lazily dragging along his ribs eventually makes a small shudder spread through his body as he pulls you closer. “Hand’s cold,” he mutters with eyes still closed.

“Sorry,” you whisper slowly retracting your arm until his larger hand grabs yours bringing it to the side of his head as he trails kisses from your palm to the middle of your forearm. Long lashes fluttering against his cheeks, he reveals those heart stopping eyes as a drowsy smile appears on his lips.

“Merry Christmas beautiful,” he groggily speaks making you giddy from the butterflies in your stomach.

“Merry Christmas.” Your hands rest on either side of his head as you lower yourself meeting the corner of his mouth before moving to his pouted lips.

“Shh Dodgey let’s go look,” you both hear causing you to separate with knowing smiles on your faces.

“Let’s go before he opens everything.”

Natural light breaks through the thin curtains as you and Chris quietly make your way to the living room, him in his sweats and solid red shirt, and you in one of his hoodies on top of your own grey sweats. You both stop at the doorframe watching him walk all along the twinkling tree admiring his presents and even peaking behind to see what all was hidden along the back wall.

“Did you two start opening presents without us?,” Chris asks startling River before he smiles, running up to the both of you and hugging your legs that respectively stood right next to the other.

“Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas!,” you and Chris speak at the same time as he lifts the excited child to sit on his hip. Both of you sandwiching him in as you each blow raspberries on one of his cheeks, an eruption of giggles soon follows after.

“Look daddy! The cookies and carrots!,” he shouts pointing to the table with two empty plates and half empty glass.

“I know! Santa wanted me to tell you thank you, and that the reindeer loved the carrots.” You have to stifle your laugh seeing your son’s eyes go wide in shock as he stares at his father with this new revelation.

“You know Santa?!”

“Of course! He calls parents throughout the year to help make his final decision on the naughty and nice list,” Chris answers, smiling when River turns to look at you with the same amount of shock.

“You too mommy?!”

“Yep! We had a long chat last night before he left.”

“Did he see my list? Is a baby coming?!,” he asks with big brown eyes looking back and forth between you and Chris. You knew this moment was coming, but you’d never be prepared for the hurt you’d feel seeing your baby boy disappointed.

“Um..as of right now there isn’t gonna be one bubs,” Chris answers leaving him confused as his little eyebrows furrowed together.

“Why?”

Meeting each other’s eyes, neither of you expected to be having “the talk” this early with River. But settling on the couch where he sat in Chris’ lap ready to intently listen to your every word, you’d just have to try your best.

“Well sweetie, it’s not really Santa who’s in charge of that. It’s the...um...baby fairy!”

“Baby fairy?”

“Yea, she’s the one that makes sure the baby is perfect. And once it’s ready, she’ll deliver it to the mommy’s stomach where it’ll grow until it’s time to be born.”

“How-how does she know when to make it mommy?,” he asks tilting his head.

“That’s a very good question. Um...well uh...Chris why don’t you answer this one?,” you suggest completely catching him off guard. His pleading eyes meeting yours that read “Too bad, I’m not doing this all by myself”. Clearing his throat, he nervously smiles down at River now giving him his full attention.

“Uh...she knows because...there’s a signal that rings a uh bell and that tells her to start working.”

“What signal?”

It was becoming increasingly difficult to hide your laughs seeing Chris redden by the second. You could swear you even saw a bead of sweat forming on his forehead as he nervously chuckled raking his brain for his next answer. Hearing your muffled snort, he shoots you a playful glare as you mouth a quick sorry before petting Dodger to distract yourself.

“The signal is a...um handshake. But it’s a very special one that is filled with lots and lots of love.”

“Oh...okay,” River replies, disappointment evident on his face that he wouldn’t be getting the gift he was most looking forward too.

“There’s one last important thing about the baby fairy though,” you state tilting his small chin to look at you. “She works all year round. So, just because there’s no baby now doesn’t mean there won’t be one later.”

At that, his cheeks perk to a smile and eyes become bright again as he crawls over to hug his arms around your neck.

“It’s not the signal, but I write her too just in case.”

“Sounds good,” you smile kissing his cheek. “Now go ahead and open your presents so we can go to grandma Lisa’s.”

He quickly scrambles to his feet motioning Dodger to follow and help unwrap the gifts making both you and Chris softly laugh as you scoot closer together.

“Very special handshake?,” you repeat in a whisper as he drapes an arm over your shoulders.

“Hey it’s the best I could come up with on the spot okay. And baby fairy? Why not stick with the stork?”

“Because a bird carrying a baby from who knows would’ve been more difficult to explain, and it’s the best I could come up with on the spot okay?” Mocking his voice, you feel a pinch on your side replacing the smirk on your face with shock from the small gape of your mouth. “Did you just pinch me?”

“I don’t know, maybe it was the pinch fairy,” he shrugs standing up to help River with his presents before you could do or say anything back.

Within an hour, the living room had turned into what you’d describe as the end of the workday at Santa’s workshop from the ripped wrapping paper that was scattered along the floor, along with discarded plastic and cardboard once containing toys that now lied out in the open waiting to be played with again. It made both of your hearts swell seeing how happy River was with each of his presents. Every few minutes he’d walk up to either one of you tugging you down to place a kiss on your cheeks adorably thanking you for everything. He wanted to bring all his new toys to Lisa’s so his cousins could see and play too, but was convinced to bring his top two after being told, and shown, that all of them wouldn’t fit in his bag.

Walking through your bedroom door that evening once returning home, the clock on the bedside table reads 10:13 pm as you both fall back on the bed. As usual, Christmas Day at his mother’s was filled with lots of laughs, exchanging of more gifts, food, playful sibling rivalry between Chris and Scott that ended in both of them being fussed at by Lisa and told to settle down once they got too loud, and of course the kids playing all day with their new toys.

Needless to say, you both were tired.

However, the house was uncomfortably more silent now with River spending the night and remaining weekend at his grandma’s along with his other cousins. It was something new Lisa wanted to start to give you guys a short break for yourselves.

“Babe? You sleep?,” Chris cautiously asks in a hushed tone.

“No, and honestly I don’t know if I’ll be able to. It’s different not having River here.”

It was his first time spending the weekend at someone else’s place, and while you knew it would be a good experience for him and he’d be fine, the protective momma bear in you couldn’t help but worry. Grabbing your hand, he lifts it to his lips kissing your knuckles.

“Yea it sounds even quieter that we’re alone.”

“Mhmm.”

“...And it’s gonna be like that the whole weekend,” Chris smirks, peeking over at you to see if you came to the same realization as him.

“Yep,” you sigh, eyes still towards the ceiling.

Clearly you hadn’t yet.

“First time we’ve been alone for that long since he was born. House completely to ourselves. Not worrying if he’s doing something when it gets too quiet because it’s only us.”

Giggling to yourself, you turn to lie on your stomach lightly trailing your nails from the hairs of his beard down the middle of his chest and abdomen.

“So what you’re saying is that we’re absolutely, utterly all alone? In this big, cozy house?,” you ask tracing the tattoo right below his bellybutton feigning confusion as a hearty chuckle escapes his chest. Sitting up on his elbows, his hand caresses your cheek as he leans forward teasingly brushing his lips against yours. His hand shifts to the back of your neck pulling you closer to connect your lips in a breath taking kiss that leaves you wanting more once he pulls away.

“Exactly,” he lowly whispers. “Thinking what I’m thinking?”

“Yea,” you breathe out, biting your lip. “We have all the ice cream to ourselves!” A giddy smile forms on your lips hopping over your husband looking dumbfounded.

“Um y-yea...not really what I was thinking but..”

“And then after,” you start pulling him up to stand with you. “We can really start being alone. Like in the bed, and the shower, and the kitchen counter-.”

“And? You’re preparing for a busy weekend huh?”

“Plenty of chances to perfect that special handshake for the baby fairy,” you smirk. A squeal leaves your lips as you’re lifted over his shoulder with both hands inadvertently tickling your inner thighs from his grip.

“I like the way you think.”

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